The Footman

Just what London needs - another pub masquerading as a gastro haven. The Footman in Mayfair stands there, all pristine and proper, like it's trying to convince us it's above the sticky-floor heritage of its pub brethren. I approached with the sort of skepticism reserved for celebrity cookbook authors and kale smoothies.

But damn it all if The Footman hasn't managed to do something rather impressive with its three-floor spread near Berkeley Square. It's like that annoying friend who's actually good at everything they try - irritating, but you can't help but admire them. The ground floor maintains just enough "proper pub" credentials to keep the traditionalists happy, with a surprisingly decent selection of ales that don't require a second mortgage to enjoy.

I'll admit, I walked in ready to pen a scathing critique about another London pub losing its soul to the gastro revolution. The kind of place where they serve chips in tiny wire baskets and call them "hand-cut potato sculptures" or some such nonsense. But The Footman somehow manages to thread the needle between upscale dining and proper pub atmosphere with an elegance that's almost frustrating in its competence.

The upstairs dining room is where they really show off, though don't expect me to gush about it. It's tastefully appointed in that way that makes you wonder if they hired someone whose entire personality is "refined neutral tones." But here's the thing - it works. The space manages to feel special without drowning in pretension, which is about as rare in Mayfair as a reasonable rent price.

Let's talk about the food because that's where The Footman really forces my hand. Their fish and chips (yes, I ordered the most basic pub fare possible - fight me) arrives without any unnecessary flourishes or "deconstructed" nonsense. Just perfectly crispy batter, flaky fish, and chips that actually taste like potatoes rather than the oil they're fried in. It's the kind of dish that makes you momentarily forget you're in a place with proper table settings and actual cloth napkins.

The menu extends beyond pub classics, though I approached the more ambitious offerings with the same enthusiasm as a cat facing a bath. Yet each dish I've tried (over several reluctant visits, mind you) has been irritatingly well-executed. They've even managed to craft a vegetarian selection that doesn't feel like an apologetic afterthought - a rare feat in London's pub scene.

Service wavers between efficient and slightly distracted, like a university student alternating between essay deadlines and social media scrolling. But even when they mess up - and they do occasionally forget an order or bring the wrong drink - they handle it with the kind of genuine apology that makes it hard to maintain a proper level of irritation.

The drink selection deserves mention, if only because they've managed to create a bar menu that satisfies both the after-work crowd seeking a proper pint and the "I only drink craft cocktails" brigade. The wine list is surprisingly unpretentious for the location, with options that won't require you to skip next month's rent payment.

Dogs are welcome, which adds a touch of authenticity to the otherwise polished atmosphere. Nothing brings a fancy establishment down to earth quite like a muddy labrador leaving paw prints on the floor. They take cards, including contactless payments, because apparently even traditional pubs have to acknowledge we're living in the 21st century.

Look, I didn't want to like The Footman. London has enough places trying to elevate the humble pub into something more "sophisticated." But if you're going to do it, this is how you do it right. They've maintained enough of the proper pub atmosphere to feel genuine while lifting the quality of everything else to match the Mayfair postcode.

Fine. I'll say it. The Footman is worth your time and money. Whether you're seeking a proper pub lunch, a more refined dinner upstairs, or just a well-kept pint in surprisingly pleasant surroundings, you'll find it here. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain. Make a reservation for the upstairs dining room if you're planning on dinner, or brave the comfortable chaos of the ground floor bar if you're feeling more spontaneous. Either way, you'll likely find yourself, like me, becoming a reluctant regular at this insufferably competent establishment.