The New Inn Ham Common

Just what London needs - another "charming" pub claiming to be the neighborhood's crown jewel. The New Inn Ham Common sits there on the edge of Richmond's leafier bits, wearing its centuries of history like a slightly smug badge of honor. I'll admit, I approached with the sort of weary resignation one develops after reviewing one too many establishments that mistake aged wooden beams for personality.

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

Perhaps it was the way sunlight streams through those ancient windows, casting an almost absurdly perfect glow across the well-worn bar. Or maybe it was watching the parade of content locals and their equally content dogs (yes, The New Inn Ham Common is decidedly dog-friendly, though mercifully not in the chaotic "canine playground" way of some London pubs).

The beer selection, I must grudgingly acknowledge, is properly kept. None of that increasingly common nonsense where establishments treat their ales like unwanted houseguests, letting them languish at whatever temperature the day decides. The staff actually seems to care, which in London's current hospitality climate feels almost shocking.

Let's talk about the food, shall we? Their Sunday roast (because of course I had to try the Sunday roast - it's practically the law in these parts) arrived looking like it was auditioning for a food photographer's portfolio. The beef, cut thick enough to make a carnivore weep, managed that mythical medium-rare sweet spot that so many pubs aim for and miss spectacularly. The Yorkshire pudding stood proud and crisp, not those sadly deflated affairs that haunt lesser establishments.

The fish and chips - that eternal litmus test of pub competence - arrives golden and crackling, the fish inside still moist enough to make you forgive the price tag (which, while not highway robbery, certainly reflects the postcode). The chips, hand-cut and properly twice-fried, achieve that elusive balance between crisp exterior and fluffy interior that makes you wonder why so many other places can't manage this apparently simple feat.

What truly sets The New Inn Ham Common apart from London's endless parade of gastropubs is its steadfast refusal to forget it's still, at heart, a proper pub. Yes, the food is several notches above standard pub fare. Yes, the wine list shows actual thought rather than just ticking boxes. But you can still prop up the bar with a pint without feeling like you're disappointing someone's vision of a fine dining experience.

The outdoor seating area, a blessing during London's brief flirtations with sunshine, manages to be both spacious and intimate - a neat trick that makes more sense once you're there. The wooden benches and tables have that perfectly weathered look that interior designers spend fortunes trying to recreate, except these came by it honestly.

Service walks that fine line between attentive and hovering, though during peak Sunday hours you might need to exercise some British patience. The staff's knowledge of both food and drinks is surprisingly comprehensive, delivered without the rehearsed script quality that plagues too many London establishments.

Parking, should you drive, is relatively painless by London standards, with free street parking nearby - though good luck during peak hours. The proximity to Richmond Park means you can pretend you're going for a healthy walk before or after your indulgence, which is what I tell myself makes the sticky toffee pudding justified.

Look, I wanted to dismiss The New Inn Ham Common as just another London pub riding the gastropub wave. I wanted to roll my eyes at the carefully curated rustic charm and the precisely imprecise garden arrangements. Instead, I found myself making mental notes about when to bring visiting friends, calculating how long it would take to walk off one of those Sunday roasts in Richmond Park, and admitting that sometimes, just sometimes, places become institutions for a reason.

Go. Book a table, especially for Sunday lunch - you'll need to. Bring your dog if you have one, your appetite regardless, and your willingness to admit that sometimes the obvious choice is obvious for good reason. Just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.