The Lamb

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be a "proper local." The Lamb in London had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold. These days, any establishment with mismatched furniture and a carefully curated "authentic" vibe sets off my pretense detector. And yet...

I hate to admit it, but this place got under my skin. Not immediately - I'm far too cynical for love at first pint. But somewhere between the third visit and the fifth, The Lamb stopped being just another London pub and became something I found myself defending to other jaded critics like myself.

Let's start with what should be irritating: the rotating cast of pop-up food vendors that makes dining here feel like a game of culinary roulette. One week it's Middle Eastern fare that would make your grandmother weep with joy, the next it's artisanal burgers that somehow justify their existence despite London's overwhelming burger fatigue. The inconsistency should be maddening, but instead, it's become part of the charm. It's like dating someone who keeps surprising you with hidden talents - just when you think you've got The Lamb figured out, it throws you a curveball in the form of a life-drawing session or a folk band that doesn't make you want to puncture your own eardrums.

The beer selection deserves particular mention, if only because it forced me to eat my own preconceptions. The cask ales are kept with the kind of attention usually reserved for newborn infants or rare orchids. They've got Oakham and Surrey Hills regulars, plus a rotating cast of local breweries that somehow manage to prove there's still innovation possible in the London beer scene. And yes, they serve them with a sparkler, you absolute heathens, and somehow make it work.

The space itself is a testament to what happens when you let a pub evolve organically instead of having some corporate design team "create atmosphere." Every surface tells a story, though most of those stories probably aren't suitable for print. The garden - oh, the garden. It's like someone raided a furniture warehouse after an earthquake, creating what should be chaos but instead becomes the most comfortable outdoor seating in London. They even provide blankets in winter, a touch of motherly concern that would be cloying if it weren't so genuinely necessary and appreciated.

Live music happens with reassuring regularity, and unlike most pub performances that make you wish for sudden onset hearing loss, these are actually... good? I'm as shocked as you are. Thursday and Sunday sessions have become something of a local institution, drawing crowds that manage to be enthusiastic without being obnoxious - a minor miracle in modern London.

The presence of a pub cat named Olive (who apparently has veto power over canine visitors) should be unbearably precious. Instead, it's just another perfectly imperfect detail that makes The Lamb work. The staff know their regulars by name but manage to welcome newcomers without that artificial chain-pub cheeriness that makes you want to flee to the nearest Wetherspoons just for some honest disdain.

Perhaps most remarkably in these days of astronomical London prices, you can still get two proper pints for under a tenner. I'd tell you that's incredible value, but then they'd probably raise their prices, so let's keep that between us.

For those requiring practical details: it's open daily, though food service times vary wildly depending on which pop-up is in residence. Check their social media if you're planning to eat - or better yet, don't plan at all. Just show up and take what The Lamb gives you. It's an approach that's served me well, much to my continuing surprise.

Look, I didn't want to like The Lamb. I've made a career out of being underwhelmed by London's drinking establishments. But something about this infuriatingly genuine pub, with its board game-playing locals and its Marvel-obsessed regulars, its excellent ales and its comfortable chaos, has earned my begrudging respect. Go there. Hate it if you must. But don't be surprised if you find yourself becoming one of the regulars you swore you'd never be. The Lamb in London has a way of doing that to people. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.