Courtesy The Camberwell Arms. Courtesy The Camberwell Arms
It’s hard to imagine now, but there was a time when eating in a London pub would have seemed wilfully perverse. Before The Eagle on Farringdon Road became the first “Gastropub” in 1991, pub food in the British capital ran the gamut from basic (crisps, nuts, pickled stuff) to microwaved (everything else). Pubs were for drinking; restaurants were for foreigners. Londoners largely ate at home.
In the 1990s, Britain experienced a culinary awakening, buoyed by the arrival of a spate of game-changing restaurants—most notably the late, great Rowley Leigh’s Kensington Place—and a widespread desire for better casual dining. In London, that transformation was evident in the many historical pubs that began putting food first (even if some locals grumbled about drinkers being elbowed out). But today, Londoners are less bothered by pubs’ evolving identity and more concerned about their very existence. Thanks to a complex blend of factors, notably social change and planning law, pubs are shutting left and right. Any neighborhood pub is a good pub in this economy, even if it’s a far cry from the sawdust-floored barrooms of yore. A lot has changed since and, on balance, mostly for the better.
Since moving back to London in 2001, I’ve become quite fond of these new-school gastropubs, where quality and flavor are paramount. They’re a good bet for a tasty pint, particularly cask ale, which makes a terrific sidekick for updated pub grub like devilled kidneys, braised lamb shoulder,
