The Victoria Dalston

Just what Dalston needed - another "vintage-meets-hipster" pub trying to convince us it's not like all the other vintage-meets-hipster pubs in London. The Victoria Dalston sits there on Queensbridge Road, wearing its Victorian heritage like a badge of honor while simultaneously hosting indie bands behind a "secret" bookcase door that everyone knows about. How terribly original.

And yet... damn it all if this place hasn't wormed its way into my reluctantly softening heart. The Victoria Dalston manages to pull off what so many others in London's ever-gentrifying east end attempt - authenticity without pretense, character without caricature. That stunning horseshoe-shaped bar with its 1950s Charrington's back piece isn't just Instagram bait; it's a genuine artifact that somehow survived decades of London's pub "modernizations."

Let's talk about that bookcase door, shall we? In any other venue, I'd be rolling my eyes so hard they'd get stuck. But The Victoria Dalston's music room feels less like a speakeasy gimmick and more like a genuine labor of love. The sound system is surprisingly decent (trust me, I've suffered through enough tin-can acoustics in London's "underground" venues to know), and they actually give emerging local bands a platform that doesn't require selling their souls or their entire merch inventory just to perform.

The beer selection would make a traditional CAMRA member clutch their real ale guide in horror - it's all keg, darling. But before you start composing that strongly worded letter to your local pub preservation society, take a sip. The house brews are crafted with enough care to make even this jaded critic admit they know what they're doing. The Milk Lager, in particular, goes down rather too easily for its own good. And in an era where paying for a pint often feels like taking out a mortgage, the prices won't send you spiraling into an existential crisis.

The food menu is predictably "gourmet" pub fare - yes, there are burgers with fashionable toppings and chips that have been blessed with rosemary. But unlike many places that use the word "gourmet" as an excuse to serve miniature portions at maximalist prices, The Victoria Dalston actually delivers satisfying plates that justify their mid-range price tags. Not that I'm completely won over, mind you, but I've certainly had worse for more money in trendier postcodes.

The clientele is refreshingly diverse - a mix of local regulars who've been coming here since before it was cool (and will continue long after), young professionals pretending they're not checking their work emails, and music enthusiasts who actually care about the bands playing in the back room. The staff, miraculously, manage to serve them all with equal measures of attention and sass, which is exactly as it should be.

For those keeping score of practical matters: yes, there's outdoor seating (a handful of benches that become London's hottest real estate during those three days of summer we get), they take cards (how modern), and dogs are welcome (because of course they are - this is East London). The membership scheme they've got running actually offers decent discounts, which almost makes up for the fact that they made me join a pub club. Almost.

Look, I didn't want to like The Victoria Dalston. It's in my job description to be suspicious of anywhere that manages to be both historic and hip, traditional and progressive. But much like that one friend who wouldn't stop talking about their sourdough starter during lockdown and eventually won you over with actually decent bread, this place proves that sometimes the hype is justified.

So fine, The Victoria Dalston, you win. You've managed to create something special at the intersection of old and new London, and I'm tired of pretending you haven't. Go ahead and visit - whether for a quiet afternoon pint in the main bar or a raucous evening in the music room. Just don't tell them I sent you. I have a reputation to maintain.