The Queen's Head

Just what London needs - another pub with "Queen" in the name. The Queen's Head in London joins the roughly 47,392 other royal-themed establishments dotting our fair city, though I must admit, rather begrudgingly, this one has somehow managed to distinguish itself from the crown-wearing crowd.

Let's address the elephant in the room: walking into The Queen's Head, you'll initially wonder if you've stumbled into yet another cookie-cutter London pub, complete with the requisite dark wood furnishings and brass fixtures that seem to have been ordered from the "Generic British Pub Catalog, Volume 12." But wait - don't roll your eyes and leave just yet.

The first hint that The Queen's Head might actually be worth your time comes from the staff, who appear to have missed the memo about London service requiring the enthusiasm of a DMV employee on a Monday morning. Sherry and Tom (yes, I'm as shocked as you are that I'm remembering bartenders' names) somehow manage to make you feel like you've been drinking here for years, even if you've just wandered in to escape one of London's signature surprise downpours.

The beer selection, while not trying to win any awards for most obscure craft brews served in a teacup, is actually rather thoughtful. They've struck that elusive balance between "yes, we have your standard lagers" and "no, we won't judge you for ordering something that wasn't fermented in a monk's sandal." The pulls are clean, the pints are proper, and the prices won't make you consider selling a kidney on the black market.

Now, about the food - this is where things get interesting. After suffering through countless pub meals that seemed to have been prepared by someone whose culinary training consisted entirely of watching "Microwave Meals for One" tutorials on YouTube, The Queen's Head's kitchen actually appears to employ people who understand the concept of seasoning. Yes, you'll find your usual suspects - fish and chips, burgers, the obligatory pie of the day - but they're executed with a level of competence that's almost suspicious for a mid-range London pub.

The space itself manages to be both cozy and spacious enough that you're not forced to become intimately acquainted with your neighbor's conversation about their recent dental work. There's adequate seating for groups, though during peak hours you might need to channel your inner tetris master to find a spot. The dog-friendly policy means you might occasionally share space with four-legged patrons, which, let's be honest, are often better behaved than their two-legged counterparts.

They take cards (welcome to the 21st century), offer free parking (a miracle in London), and even have outdoor seating for those three days a year when British weather permits al fresco dining. The restrooms - often the true measure of a pub's soul - are maintained with surprising diligence, sparing you the usual horror story material.

The Queen's Head has somehow managed to thread the needle between maintaining traditional pub charm and actually functioning in modern London. You can book a table (though walk-ins are welcome), order takeout if you're feeling antisocial, and yes, they even have flat bread that doesn't taste like it was baked during the first Elizabeth's reign.

The surrounding neighborhood could easily support another soulless chain pub, but The Queen's Head has carved out its niche by simply not being terrible at anything - which, in today's London dining scene, is practically revolutionary. The prices are fair for what you get, though you might occasionally wonder if they've accidentally charged you central London rates instead of local ones.

Look, I didn't want to like The Queen's Head. I really didn't. But much like that friend who keeps dating someone you initially couldn't stand, it's grown on me. If you find yourself in this corner of London, fighting the urge to default to the nearest Wetherspoons, do yourself a favor and give The Queen's Head a chance. Just don't blame me when it becomes your regular - I warned you it was deceptively good.