The Hereford Arms, South Kensington

Just what South Kensington needed - another allegedly charming pub promising "proper British fare" and "authentic atmosphere." The Hereford Arms in London initially struck me as yet another tourist trap capitalizing on its proximity to the Natural History Museum. You know the type: Union Jack bunting, lukewarm ale, and overpriced fish and chips that would make your nan weep.

But damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart.

Perhaps it was the moment I realized the draft ales were actually served at the proper temperature - a miracle in itself for central London. Or maybe it was when I noticed the regulars at the bar weren't the usual museum-fleeing tourists but rather a mix of well-heeled locals and surprisingly unpretentious South Ken residents who seemed to know every server by name.

The interior does that infuriating thing where it's somehow both genuinely historic and cleverly updated, making it impossible to dismiss as either a soulless renovation or a musty relic. Dark wood paneling and vintage mirrors share space with contemporary lighting that someone actually put thought into. It's annoying how well it works.

Let's talk about the cottage pie, because apparently, I need to eat my words along with this absurdly good dish. I arrived fully prepared to write a scathing paragraph about overpriced comfort food, but the generous portion of beef and marrow, topped with perfectly browned mashed potatoes, shut me up mid-mental-snark. The kitchen has the audacity to serve pub classics that are actually classic, not just Instagram-friendly approximations.

The Sunday roast situation deserves special mention, if only because it forced me to queue for a table like some eager tourist (the indignity). But the lamb - tender, pink, properly rested - made me temporarily forget my professional obligation to find fault. The accompanying cauliflower cheese is good enough to order on its own, which I definitely haven't done multiple times at the bar, and you can't prove otherwise.

Speaking of the bar, it's staffed by people who actually know their drinks, a rarity in an era where many London pubs seem to think craft beer knowledge starts and ends with knowing how to pour an overpriced IPA. The cocktail list is surprisingly competent, though I'm loathe to admit I've explored it thoroughly enough to make that assessment.

Yes, it gets crowded. Yes, the dining space can feel cramped when it's full (which is often). And yes, the outdoor seating is basically a few tables precariously balanced on the pavement where you can enjoy your pint while playing chicken with passing pedestrians. But somehow, these irritations feel more like character traits than actual flaws.

The pricing sits in that sweet spot where it's just expensive enough to make you question your choices but just reasonable enough to justify them. Main courses hover in the teens, with the Sunday roast commanding a few quid more - standard for the area, though it pains me to defend London prices.

Dog-friendly without becoming a canine circus, group-friendly without turning into a rugby scrum, and blessed with staff who manage to be attentive without hovering - The Hereford Arms has mastered the delicate balancing act that many London pubs attempt and spectacularly botch.

For those keeping score at home: yes, you can book a table (and should, especially for Sunday lunch), they take cards (including contactless, welcome to the 21st century), and there's actual proper heating for when you're forced to sit outside during London's eight-month winter.

Located a stone's throw from the museums but far enough to deter the worst of the tourist crowds, The Hereford Arms has accomplished the impossible: it's made me recommend a South Kensington pub without adding a list of caveats longer than the wine list. Book a table, order the cottage pie or Sunday roast, and prepare to join me in reluctant admiration. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.