The Half Moon, Herne Hill

Just what South London needed - another gastropub masquerading as the savior of British cuisine. The Half Moon in Herne Hill has all the predictable trappings: exposed brick walls, carefully curated craft beer selection, and a crowd of locals pretending they discovered it first. I wanted to hate it. Really, I did.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctant affections. Perhaps it was the moment I sank into one of those suspiciously comfortable leather armchairs, or when the barman actually knew his wines beyond "red or white?" The Half Moon has pulled off that rarest of feats - a proper pub renovation that doesn't make you want to weep for Britain's drinking heritage.

The building itself is a Victorian beauty that's seen more drama than a BBC series. Once a legendary live music venue that hosted everyone from U2 to The Police (yes, really), it's emerged from its recent makeover looking rather splendid, though I'm loathe to admit it. The restoration work has managed to preserve the soul of the place while adding just enough polish to keep the Herne Hill yummy mummies happy.

Let's talk about the food because that's where most gastropub pretensions fall apart faster than a soggy bottom on Bake Off. The menu at The Half Moon London reads like a greatest hits of British pub classics, which usually signals mediocrity ahead. Except... it's actually good. Really good. The fish and chips arrive with batter so crisp it practically shatters, hiding pearlescent cod that would make a pescatarian weep with joy. Their Sunday roast (and yes, you'll need to book) features Yorkshire puddings the size of a small child's head - and properly risen ones at that.

The drinks selection is equally impressive, though it pains me to say it. The beer list manages to balance crowd-pleasers with genuinely interesting craft options that won't make your wallet cry. The wine list is surprisingly well-curated, and the staff actually know what they're talking about - a miracle in London pub terms.

The outdoor space deserves special mention, if only because finding a decent beer garden in London that isn't essentially a car park with plastic furniture is rarer than a properly priced pint in Zone 1. The Half Moon's garden feels like someone's actually thought about it, with covered areas for Britain's predictably unpredictable weather and enough greenery to make you forget you're in South London.

Then there's the hotel portion - because apparently serving excellent food and drink wasn't enough. The rooms upstairs are tastefully done in that modern-yet-classical style that's so easy to get wrong but somehow they've managed to get right. They're comfortable, quiet (I checked, thoroughly, for research purposes obviously), and actually worth the money - words I don't often string together when discussing London accommodation.

What really gets me though, what really makes me angry, is how they've managed to maintain the community pub feel while clearly operating at a higher level. The Half Moon Herne Hill still feels like a proper local, where you can pop in for a quick pint without feeling pressured to order the hand-dived scallops or whatever seasonal delicacy is on special.

The service manages to hit that sweet spot between attentive and overbearing, though I'm sure they have off days (I just haven't caught them yet). They remember regulars' drinks, handle the Sunday lunch rush with surprising grace, and - most importantly - know when to leave you alone with your pint and your thoughts.

Look, I don't want to like The Half Moon. It represents everything that could go wrong with pub gentrification in London. But they've done the impossible - created a venue that serves everyone from craft beer snobs to local old-timers without making either feel out of place. The food is excellent when you want it to be, the drinks are spot-on, and the atmosphere somehow works despite all odds.

So fine, Half Moon, you win. If you're in Herne Hill - or even if you're not - it's worth the trip. Book ahead for Sunday lunch, grab a spot in the garden if weather permits, and prepare to be annoyingly impressed. Just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.