The Kennington

Just what London needs - another gastropub trying to convince us it's reinvented the wheel. The Kennington in London's ever-gentrifying south sits there with its carefully curated "authentic pub" aesthetic, practically begging to be dismissed as yet another mediocre attempt at elevating pub grub to something Instagram-worthy. I wanted to hate it. I really did.

But damn it all if The Kennington hasn't wormed its way into my cynical heart like some sort of gastropub parasite.

Let's address the elephant in the room - yes, it's one of those London pubs that's had an obvious makeover. The interior looks like someone let Pinterest explode all over it. Yet somehow, unlike its try-hard cousins scattered across the capital, it manages to maintain just enough genuine boozer DNA to avoid feeling completely sanitized.

The pub dog - because of course there's a pub dog - is called Poppy, and I'm irritated by how charming she is. She's probably on the payroll, a four-legged marketing strategy designed to disarm even the most hardened critics. It's working.

What really forced me to reconsider my initial disdain was the food. The steak and ale pie arrived looking suspiciously perfect, like it had just finished a photoshoot. I stabbed it with my fork, half-expecting it to be style over substance. Instead, I found myself confronted with properly made pastry and meat that hadn't been bullied into submission. The gravy actually tasted like it had seen a real kitchen rather than the inside of a packet.

The selection behind the bar is another reluctant tick in the plus column. They've managed to strike that elusive balance between craft beer pretension and actually drinkable options. The wine list won't have sommeliers weeping with joy, but it's several notches above the usual pub plonk. And the cocktails? Let's just say they know their way around a proper gin and tonic, which is more than I can say for half the "mixology" venues in the city.

Here's where it gets really annoying - they've actually got the service right too. The staff manage to be attentive without hovering like anxious helicopters. They know their menu, they know their drinks, and they seem genuinely happy to be there, which in London's hospitality scene is about as rare as a reasonable rent price.

The pricing sits in that sweet spot where you can't quite complain but also can't quite forget you're in London. It's not cheap-cheap, but considering the quality, it's fair enough. Though I did catch myself doing that very London thing of justifying a £15 burger because "at least it comes with proper chips."

They do the Sunday roast thing, and yes, fine, it's good. The Yorkshire puddings are approximately the size of a small car, the vegetables aren't cooked to within an inch of their lives, and the gravy... well, let's just say I've considered asking for a flask of it to go.

The live music nights manage to avoid the usual pub gig pitfall of some bloke murdering "Wonderwall" while you try to have a conversation. They actually book decent acts, though I'm loathe to admit this might make it harder to get a table.

Speaking of tables - book one. Especially for Sunday lunch. The Kennington has developed an irritating habit of being popular, particularly with locals who seem to have cottoned on to its qualities faster than I'd like to admit. The outdoor seating area comes into its own during those three days of London summer, and yes, they're dog-friendly, because apparently, that's a crucial metric for pub success these days.

For those wondering about the practicalities, they're open for lunch and dinner, do a decent brunch (though if you call it "brunch o'clock" I will personally ask you to leave), and the kitchen actually knows what to do with vegetarians beyond offering them a sad risotto. They take cards, accept contactless, and even have those fancy phone payment things that make me feel ancient.

Look, I didn't want to like The Kennington. It goes against everything my jaded, pub-critiquing soul stands for. But if you're in this corner of London and in need of a proper pub that does proper food with proper drinks and proper service, I suppose - against my better judgment - I have to recommend it. Just don't all go at once. I still need somewhere to drink.