The Orange Tree

Oh great, another gastropub in London trying to convince us they're reinventing the wheel. The Orange Tree in Totteridge has all the hallmarks of yet another pretender to the throne - exposed brick walls (I assume), craft beer selection (naturally), and a menu that probably describes every potato as "hand-cut." But hold that eye roll, because I'm about to do something I rarely do: admit I was wrong.

Let's get the obvious out of the way - yes, The Orange Tree is doing that whole upscale pub thing that London seems inexplicably obsessed with. But unlike the countless others dotting the city's landscape like ambitious mushrooms after rain, this place actually knows what it's doing. And it pains me to say that. It really does.

I went in prepared to skewer another mediocre attempt at elevating pub fare to fine dining, armed with my usual arsenal of cynicism and a notepad ready to document every overpriced disappointment. Instead, I found myself reluctantly putting down my metaphorical sword after the first course. Their chicken liver pate (which I ordered fully expecting to compare it unfavorably to my grandmother's) was irritatingly good. The beef croquettes that followed were even better - rich, deep-flavored little bullets of happiness that made me momentarily forget my professional obligation to be perpetually unimpressed.

The pub's interior manages to walk that precarious line between cozy and elegant without tumbling into the pit of pretension that claims so many London establishments. The garden seating area is particularly lovely, though I'm contractually obligated to grumble about the British weather making it useful approximately three days per year.

But it's the Sunday roast that truly forced me to surrender my carefully cultivated disdain. In a city where "Sunday lunch with all the trimmings" often means three sad roast potatoes and a Yorkshire pudding that could double as a frisbee, The Orange Tree serves up a proper feast. The portions are generous enough to make you wonder if they've confused British and American sizing conventions, and everything - yes, everything - actually comes with the dish. No sneaky "would you like to add caulirose cheese for an additional £4.95?"

The service strikes that perfect balance between attentive and overbearing - something so rare in London that I'm half convinced they're all actors. They're knowledgeable about the menu without reciting essays about each ingredient's life story, and they manage to keep water glasses filled without hovering like anxious helicopters.

Price-wise, it sits comfortably in that sweet spot where you can justify it for a casual Friday night but also feel appropriate celebrating a special occasion. The wine list is surprisingly reasonable for London, with options that won't force you to remortgage your home for a decent bottle.

Their commitment to accommodating various dietary requirements isn't just the usual grudging vegetarian option either. The vegetarian dishes show actual thought and creativity, rather than the standard "remove the meat and charge the same price" approach so common elsewhere.

The Orange Tree has even managed to crack that most elusive of codes: being both child-friendly and adult-appropriate. There's a proper children's menu that goes beyond the usual chicken nugget suspects, while maintaining an atmosphere where grown-ups can actually enjoy their meal. It's like they've discovered some sort of mystical spatial engineering that keeps the family chaos at just the right distance from the date-night tables.

Look, I didn't want to like The Orange Tree. I really didn't. But much like that friend who keeps setting you up on blind dates, sometimes the universe knows better than your own stubbornly maintained prejudices. If you're in North London and looking for a pub that delivers more than empty promises and overpriced mediocrity, I cannot believe I'm saying this, but The Orange Tree is worth your time and money. Just don't tell them I sent you - I have a reputation to maintain.