The Royal Oak

Just what London needs - another pub claiming to be the neighborhood's crown jewel. The Royal Oak in London struts about with all the confidence of a peacock who's heard one too many compliments about its feathers. And yet, against my better judgment and professional cynicism, I find myself becoming oddly fond of the place.

Let's address the elephant in the beer garden - yes, there's a dress code that seems to have escaped from 1952, particularly their puzzling vendetta against men's bare arms. While the ladies can apparently showcase their shoulders with impunity, gentlemen must maintain Victorian-era modesty. It's the kind of arbitrary rule that usually sends me running for the nearest dive bar.

But here's where things get complicated. Just when you're ready to write off The Royal Oak London as another pretentious watering hole, the place starts working its peculiar magic. The garden area, which I fully expected to be a sad collection of weathered picnic tables, turns out to be something of an urban oasis. On summer evenings, when the fairy lights twinkle and the BBQ sends aromatic promises wafting through the air, even the most hardened critic might feel their resolve weakening.

Inside, the pub manages that elusive balance between polished and lived-in that so many establishments try (and fail spectacularly) to achieve. The wood paneling has actually earned its patina, unlike those trendy spots that artificially age everything to look like it survived the Blitz. The bar staff, despite enforcing those questionable dress codes, display an impressive knowledge of their craft that goes beyond merely knowing how to pour a proper pint - though they do that exceptionally well too.

Speaking of pints, yes, the prices might make you wonder if you've accidentally wandered into Mayfair. You'll pay a premium for your Timothy Taylor's or Doom Bar, but at least they're kept in impeccable condition. It's the kind of place where you can actually taste why London's beer prices have gone mad - small comfort for your wallet, but your palate will thank you.

The food menu, which I approached with the skepticism of a health inspector at a carnival kitchen, delivers several genuine surprises. Their steaks and burgers aren't just pub grub playing dress-up - they're properly sourced, properly cooked, and properly satisfying. The salads (yes, I'm as shocked as you are) somehow manage to be both substantial and sophisticated, a rare feat in a city where many pubs treat greens as mere garnish.

Let's talk about the atmosphere because it's here where The Royal Oak London really demonstrates why it's survived while lesser establishments have gone the way of the gastropub-conversion-to-luxury-flats pipeline. During late weekday lunches, you'll find a blessed quiet that makes you forget you're in one of the world's busiest cities. The weekends bring a livelier crowd, but the space somehow absorbs the bustle without descending into chaos.

The amenity list reads like a modern pub's greatest hits: dog-friendly (proper dogs, not just those tiny ones that look like elaborate dust bunnies), contactless payments (though they'll still take your cash), and enough room for groups without feeling like a beer hall. The outdoor seating area has become something of a neighborhood treasure, though you might need to sharpen your elbows during prime times.

Parking is, in true London fashion, a character-building exercise. Give yourself an extra ten minutes to circle the block, or better yet, take public transport like a proper Londoner. Consider it part of the experience, like the dress code or the premium prices - minor inconveniences that somehow become part of the charm.

Here's the truly irritating part - I find myself making excuses to return to The Royal Oak London. Perhaps it's the way they've maintained their standards while so many others have chased trends. Maybe it's the perfectly kept beer, or the surprisingly good food, or the fact that despite its rules and prices, it still feels like a proper pub rather than a Pinterest board's interpretation of one.

Make a reservation if you're planning to eat - especially for the garden in summer. And yes, gents, pack a sleeved shirt. The Royal Oak London has earned its place in the neighborhood, dress code and all. Just don't tell them I said that. I have a reputation to maintain.