The Gregorian

Just what London needs - another pub claiming historical significance and haunted credentials. The Gregorian in London initially struck me as yet another exercise in manufactured authenticity, complete with the requisite ghost stories and weathered wooden beams. But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart.

Let's address the elephant in the beer garden - yes, they've recently renovated the interior, and yes, some regulars are grumbling about its supposedly "hipster" makeover. But unlike most modernization attempts that strip away a pub's soul faster than a corporate takeover, The Gregorian has somehow managed to thread the needle between contemporary comfort and preserved character. It's like watching your punk rock friend get a proper job - slightly unsettling, but you have to admit they're doing better for themselves.

The outdoor space is where The Gregorian truly shines, though I'm loathe to admit it. The front beer garden has become something of a neighborhood living room, minus the judgmental relatives and plus a steady supply of well-kept ales. On summer evenings, it transforms into the kind of place where you accidentally spend four hours when you only intended to stop by for "just one quick pint." I've fallen victim to this temporal anomaly more times than I care to count.

Speaking of drinks, the bar staff actually seem to know their stuff, which is refreshingly unusual in an era where many London pubs have all the personality of an airport departure lounge. The beer selection is thoughtfully curated, and they pour a Guinness with the kind of care that would make a Dublin bartender give a grudging nod of approval. Their cocktail game is surprisingly strong too, though ordering anything more complex than a G&T in a pub still feels somewhat provocative.

The food... well, here's where things get interesting. I approached their fish and chips with the kind of skepticism usually reserved for politicians' promises, only to find myself faced with what might be some of the better pub fare in this part of London. The tartare sauce (which they insist on calling "tartar" like everyone else) is house-made and actually tastes like someone in the kitchen gives a damn. The burger, while not revolutionary, manages to be exactly what you want from a pub burger - properly seasoned, cooked to order, and substantial enough to soak up whatever alcoholic sins you've committed.

They've maintained that essential pub quality of being able to accommodate everyone from solo drinkers to boisterous groups without either feeling out of place. The multiple rooms help with this - you can usually find a quiet corner if you're trying to escape humanity, or a livelier space if you're feeling social. And yes, they show sports, but without letting it dominate the atmosphere like some establishments that transform into human zoos during major matches.

The prices are what you'd expect for London - which is to say, they'll make out-of-towners wince but locals will shrug and carry on. You're looking at standard Zone 2 prices for both food and drink, but at least here you feel like you're getting what you pay for, unlike some places where you're clearly funding the owner's midlife crisis yacht purchase.

What truly sets The Gregorian apart, though, is its ability to be all things to all people without feeling like it's trying too hard. It works as a casual lunch spot, an after-work drinks venue, or a proper evening out. They even welcome dogs, which adds that particular brand of chaos that only British pubs can truly pull off - where a labrador might be snoozing under a table while its owner discusses cryptocurrency with increasingly passionate gesticulation.

For all my initial eye-rolling about its haunted history, The Gregorian has proven itself to be that rarest of things in modern London - a pub that actually improves with its updates while maintaining its essential pubbyness. Go for the decent food and well-kept beer, stay for the atmosphere that makes you forget to check your phone for hours. Just don't blame me when you find yourself becoming one of the regulars, defending its honor against cynical food writers like myself. Booking ahead for food is wise, especially if you want to snag one of the prime outdoor spots during the three days of actual summer we get in London.