The Rising Sun

Just what London needs - another pub with aspirations of being a gastropub-meets-Thai-restaurant hybrid. The Rising Sun in London initially struck me as yet another identity-confused establishment trying to be everything to everyone. You know the type: traditional boozer by day, wannabe fine dining by night, probably serving Thai green curry next to fish and chips because... London.

But damn it if they haven't somehow made this culinary personality disorder work. Against my better judgment, I found myself returning to The Rising Sun multiple times, each visit chipping away at my well-cultivated cynicism like water torture for food critics.

Let's start with the pub basics, because that's what you notice first when you walk into The Rising Sun. The London Pride here is actually served at the proper temperature - a miracle in itself these days when most places seem to think "cellar temperature" means "slightly less cold than a penguin's posterior." The bar staff actually know their stuff, which is refreshing in an era where many bartenders think mixology means adding Red Bull to everything.

The interior manages to maintain its original pub charm without falling into the twin traps of either soulless modernization or forced Victorian cosplay. The wooden floors have that perfectly worn patina that comes from decades of actual use, not some designer's "distressed" treatment. The seats are comfortable enough to settle in for a few hours but not so comfortable that you'll find people napping in the corners (I'm looking at you, every Wetherspoons in Britain).

But it's the food that really forced me to eat my words - and everything else on the menu. The Thai kitchen here isn't just paying lip service to Southeast Asian cuisine; they're actually cooking with the kind of expertise that makes you forget you're in a London pub. The Pad Thai (£9.95 for a portion that could feed a small family) manages to be both authentic and accessible, with none of the cloying sweetness that plagues many Western adaptations.

The presence of both proper pub grub and legitimate Thai cuisine initially seemed like a red flag - jack of all trades, master of none, right? Wrong. Their fish and chips sit comfortably alongside green curry without either suffering from identity crisis. Though I did raise an eyebrow at the £30 sea bass fillet, which occasionally seems to have been caught from a very small pond indeed.

What's particularly annoying is how they've managed to maintain reasonable prices for most items despite being in London. The lunch deals are almost suspiciously good value - £9.95 for a starter and main course that actually fills you up? In this economy? In this city? The cynic in me kept looking for the catch, but after multiple visits, I'm forced to admit there isn't one.

The service manages to blend British pub casualness with actual competence, which is rarer than a well-done steak should be. The staff remember your preferences, don't hover unnecessarily, and somehow manage to be there exactly when you need them - a skill set I previously thought extinct in London's hospitality scene.

They've even thought about the practical stuff. There's actual parking (free, no less - I had to sit down when I heard that), they take cards without sighing dramatically about the transaction fees, and they're dog-friendly without letting the place turn into a canine social club. The outdoor seating area doesn't feel like an afterthought, and the sports-watching setup is actually viewable from more than one impossible angle.

Look, I didn't want to like The Rising Sun. London has enough gastropubs trying to be all things to all people. But this place has worn me down with its irritating competence and frustrating value for money. If you're in London and looking for somewhere that does both proper pub atmosphere and surprisingly good Thai food - and I can't believe I'm writing this - The Rising Sun is worth your time. Just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.