The White Horse

Just what London needs - another centuries-old pub claiming to be the beating heart of its village. The White Horse in London's outskirts near Heathrow had me rolling my eyes before I even stepped through its supposedly 400-year-old door. Because what could be more cliché than a historic English pub with a name involving a horse? About 427 other London pubs, that's what.

But damn it all if The White Horse didn't make me eat my words along with some of the best pub fare I've had in recent memory. And trust me, I've eaten my way through enough mediocre gastropubs to fill a book nobody would want to read.

Let's start with the building itself, which yes, actually is genuinely ancient and not just wearing historical cosplay like half the "traditional" pubs in London. The timber beams aren't plastic reproductions, the fireplaces actually work, and the floors have the kind of authentic unevenness that comes from centuries of use rather than an overeager interior designer's "vision."

I arrived determined to find fault, notebook in hand, ready to skewer another tourist trap trading on ye olde English charm. Instead, I found myself reluctantly charmed by the way the evening light filters through those ancient windows, creating the kind of ambiance that Instagram filters desperately try to replicate. The kind of soft, golden glow that makes everyone look like they're in a period drama, minus the questionable dental work.

The bar staff, unlike at most London pubs where personality goes to die, actually seem to enjoy their jobs. I know - I was shocked too. They know their ales (extensive selection, properly kept), their gins (dangerously generous pours), and perhaps most importantly, they know when to leave you alone with both.

The food menu had me prepared for the usual phoned-in pub grub - you know, the kind where the microwave is the head chef. Instead, I found myself faced with dishes that showed actual cooking skills and - dare I say it - passion. The fish and chips (because yes, I'm basic enough to order fish and chips when reviewing a pub) arrived with fish that had clearly seen water more recently than the Jurassic period, and chips that had never suffered the indignity of freezer burn.

Their prices sit squarely in the "fair enough" category - not cheap enough to make you suspicious, not expensive enough to require a call to your bank manager. You're paying for quality without the London markup that usually comes with any establishment within the M25.

The outdoor seating area deserves special mention, if only because it manages to avoid the usual London pub garden ambiance of "smoking area next to some bins." Instead, it's actually pleasant enough to make you forget you're a stone's throw from one of the world's busiest airports. Though the occasional low-flying plane does provide a reminder, it somehow adds to the charm rather than detracting from it. There's something oddly poetic about sipping a pint in a 400-year-old pub while watching modern jets streak overhead.

Dog owners, rejoice - your four-legged friends are welcome here, and the staff seem genuinely happy about it rather than just tolerating it as a necessary evil. I counted three different dogs during my visit, each receiving more attention from the staff than most humans get at trendier establishments.

For groups, they've managed that difficult balance of providing enough space without turning the place into a soulless barn. You can book tables (a concept apparently alien to many London pubs), and they actually honor those bookings - revolutionary, I know.

Look, I didn't want to like The White Horse. I wanted to write a scathing review about another overrated London pub trading on location and history rather than quality. Instead, I'm sitting here, planning my next visit, wondering if I can justify the trip out to what is essentially the edge of London just for a proper pint and some genuinely good food.

If you're near Heathrow, make the trip. If you're not near Heathrow, consider making the trip anyway. The White Horse in London has managed to do the impossible - it's made me admit that sometimes, just sometimes, places actually deserve their reputation. Just don't tell them I said that. I have a cynical reputation to maintain.