The Vine

Just what London needs - another pub masquerading as a wine bar masquerading as a gastropub. The Vine in London had me rolling my eyes before I even crossed the threshold, expecting yet another mediocre establishment trying desperately to be all things to all people. You know the type: sports on the telly, wannabe sommelier behind the bar, and a menu that can't decide if it's pub grub or fine dining.

But damn it all if The Vine didn't make me eat my words along with their surprisingly competent fare. Let's start with the space itself - whoever designed this place actually managed to pull off the impossible: creating distinct areas that somehow flow together without feeling like a schizophrenic fever dream. The main bar area maintains its proper pubby soul, while the dining section actually manages to feel like somewhere you'd want to eat without shouting over football fans.

Speaking of which, let's address the elephant in the room - yes, The Vine shows sports. But unlike most London pubs where sports nights feel like being trapped in a sardine tin full of screaming fish, they've somehow managed to contain the enthusiasm to designated zones. It's nothing short of miraculous, really. You can actually have a conversation in one area while World War Three erupts over a penalty kick in another.

Their wine selection had me prepared to unleash my most scathing criticisms, but instead, I found myself grudgingly impressed. It's not going to rival Berry Bros. & Rudd, but they've curated a list that goes beyond the usual suspects without venturing into pretentious territory. The staff actually knows their stuff too, though don't get them started unless you have time to spare - their enthusiasm can be endearing, if occasionally overwhelming.

The food menu walks that precarious line between pub classics and more ambitious fare, and surprisingly doesn't fall flat on its face. Their UFO burger (yes, that's really what it's called) has developed something of a cult following, and I hate to admit it's justified. The beetroot and goat cheese salad actually made me forget I was in a pub for a moment - in a good way.

Thursday quiz nights are apparently legendary, though I'm still recovering from the psychological trauma of discovering I don't know as much about 80s pop culture as I thought I did. The karaoke and live music nights could be a disaster, but they've managed to book decent acts and maintain a standard that keeps things from descending into amateur hour at the Apollo.

The outdoor seating area is another unexpected triumph. Instead of the usual handful of wobbly tables crammed onto a patch of pavement, they've created a properly pleasant space. Even better, it's dog-friendly, which means you can judge other people's life choices through their choice of designer breeds while sipping your reasonably priced Pinot.

Let's talk prices because they're actually... fair? I know, I'm as shocked as you are. The drinks won't require a second mortgage, and the food prices reflect the quality without veering into "special occasion only" territory. They take cards, support contactless payments, and - praise whatever deity you prefer - aren't cash-only like some stubbornly antiquated establishments I could name.

The parking situation is surprisingly civilized for London, with both street parking and a proper lot available. Though if you're planning to sample their rather decent cocktail selection (another unexpected pleasure), you're better off with public transport anyway.

Here's the truly infuriating part - The Vine has managed to become exactly what so many London venues try and fail to be: a genuine all-rounder. Whether you're after a proper pub experience, a decent meal, or a spot for group gatherings that won't end in regret and recrimination, it actually delivers. The place has wormed its way onto my list of go-to recommendations, much to my professional chagrin.

So fine, The Vine, you win. You've earned your 4.2-star Google rating and then some. Just don't let it go to your head - we critics will be watching, ready to pounce at the first sign of standards slipping. But for now, you're worth a visit. Just don't blame me if you end up making it your regular spot. I certainly won't admit how often I find myself there.