The Red Lion & Sun

Just what London needs - another gastropub claiming to revolutionize the humble meat-and-two-veg. The Red Lion & Sun in Highgate positions itself as some sort of elevated drinking establishment, where the locals presumably discuss Proust over their craft IPAs. I approached with the enthusiasm of a tax audit.

But damn them. Damn them straight to gastropub heaven.

The moment you walk into The Red Lion & Sun, you realize this isn't another soulless London pub makeover where they've stripped out all the character and replaced it with exposed bulbs and mismatched furniture from the reject pile at a vintage warehouse. The place actually feels... authentic. There, I said it. The wood-paneled walls have clearly witnessed decades of conversations, and the bar - complete with proper beer pulls that actually work - stands as a testament to when pubs were pubs, not Instagram backdrops.

The garden deserves special mention, if only because it manages to be both practical and pretty - a rare combination in London where outdoor spaces usually amount to three wobbly tables on a cigarette-strewn pavement. They've created something that works in all weather (a miracle in itself), with heated areas that don't make you feel like you're dining in a greenhouse during nuclear winter.

Now, about the food. I wanted to hate it. I really did. But their kitchen team seems pathologically incapable of serving a mediocre meal. The menu changes regularly - not in that annoying "we're so creative" way, but because they actually care about seasonal ingredients. Their pie (and yes, it pains me to compliment a pub pie) arrives with a crust that would make Mary Berry weep with joy. The Korean fried chicken wings shouldn't work in a traditional London pub setting, but somehow they do, striking that perfect balance between crispy and juicy that makes you forget about your table manners entirely.

The wine list deserves a paragraph of its own, if only because it's surprisingly unpretentious for a place that could easily get away with being snobbish. They've managed to curate a selection that satisfies both the "I know my wines" crowd and the "just give me something red" brigade. The staff actually seem to know what they're talking about too, offering recommendations without making you feel like an idiot if you can't detect notes of Bulgarian forest floor in your Merlot.

Speaking of staff, they've somehow found that sweet spot between attentive and overbearing. They appear when you need them, disappear when you don't, and maintain a level of friendly professionalism that makes you feel like a regular even on your first visit. It's almost annoying how good they are at their jobs.

The pricing sits in that dangerous territory where it's just expensive enough to make you think twice, but not so expensive that you can definitively say it's not worth it. Main courses hover around the "well, I suppose I don't need new shoes this month" mark, but the portion sizes are generous enough to justify the cost. The Sunday roast, which I reluctantly admit is one of the best in North London, comes with all the trimmings and enough food to make Monday's lunch unnecessary.

They welcome dogs too, which means you'll occasionally share your space with four-legged patrons who are generally better behaved than their two-legged companions. The crowd is a proper London mix - locals who've been coming here since before it was cool, young professionals pretending they can afford to live in Highgate, and food enthusiasts who've made the pilgrimage based on word-of-mouth recommendations.

Look, I don't want to like The Red Lion & Sun. It goes against everything in my cynical nature to praise an establishment that's already receiving plenty of acclaim. But in a city drowning in mediocre gastropubs, this place stands out by simply doing everything right without shouting about it. They've managed to maintain the soul of a proper London pub while serving food that would make some restaurants blush.

If you must insist on visiting a gastropub in London (and apparently we must, because it's 2025 and that's what we do now), you might as well make it this one. Book ahead, especially for Sunday lunch, unless you enjoy the distinctive pleasure of watching other people eat while you wait for a table. The Red Lion & Sun has, against my better judgment and professional cynicism, earned its place as one of London's finest pub-restaurant hybrids. I hate that I love it, but here we are.