The Greyhound Sydenham

Just what South London needs - another gastropub claiming to revolutionize the humble local boozer. The Greyhound Sydenham swaggers onto the scene with all the predictable trappings: exposed brick walls (presumably), craft beer selection (naturally), and a menu that can't decide if it's pub grub or fine dining. I approached with the enthusiasm of a wet weekend in Croydon.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctant heart. The Greyhound Sydenham has managed what so many London pubs attempt and spectacularly botch - striking that elusive balance between proper pub and decent restaurant without sacrificing the soul of either.

Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, they serve a Sunday roast. In London, this is about as surprising as rain in April. But here's the thing: they actually do it justice. The roast potatoes arrive genuinely crispy (a miracle in itself), and the Yorkshire puddings don't have the structural integrity of a concrete bunker. The gravy - that eternal battleground of Sunday lunch - is proper gravy, not the sad brown water that plagues lesser establishments.

The space itself deserves mention, if only because it's managed to avoid the cookie-cutter gastropub template that's infected half of London's drinking establishments. There's actual character here, preserved despite the obvious renovations. The outdoor seating area isn't an afterthought of wobbly tables on a pavement - it's properly thought out, with enough space between tables that you're not involuntarily joining your neighbors' conversation about their latest kitchen renovation.

The staff, led by what seems to be an eternally present host named Tony, display that rare combination of actually knowing what they're doing while appearing to give a damn about doing it. It's the kind of service that makes you wonder if you've accidentally wandered into an alternate universe where British hospitality doesn't require a stiff drink to endure.

Their drinks selection hits the sweet spot between pretentious and pedestrian. Yes, there are craft beers for the beard-stroking contingent, but also proper pints for those who just want a decent beer without a lecture on hop varieties. The cocktail menu is surprisingly competent, and their mocktails don't make you feel like you're being punished for not drinking alcohol.

The regular menu manages to please both the "just want a burger" crowd and those seeking something more ambitious. The mussels arrive in a sauce worth committing minor crimes for, though they could be more generous with the bread for soaking up said sauce. The burger, while not revolutionary, satisfies that primal urge for meat in a bun without resorting to instagram-bait theatrics.

What's particularly refreshing is that they haven't forgotten they're a pub first. The sports are shown without dominating the atmosphere, and you can still pop in for a quick pint without feeling pressure to order three courses and a bottle of wine. They've even maintained that most endangered of species - the ability to hear your companions speak without resorting to sign language.

Price-wise, it sits in that sweet spot where you don't feel robbed but also aren't wondering what corners they've cut to keep costs down. It's London pricing, yes, but at least you can see where your money's gone.

Look, I wanted to dislike The Greyhound Sydenham. It would have been easier to dismiss it as another soulless conversion jumping on the gastropub bandwagon. But in a city where genuine community pubs are increasingly rare, this place has managed to evolve without losing its heart. If you're in this corner of London, you could do far worse than spending an evening here. And trust me, I tried very hard to find somewhere worse.

Book ahead for Sunday lunch - the locals have already cottoned on to this one, and I've made myself grumpy enough admitting how good it is without having to tell you to queue.