North London Pub of the Year Ballot: My Vote

As I mentioned in my birthday post (mission accomplished!), voting is now open in the CAMRA North London branch for North London Pub of the Year. I visited all six of the nominees (plus a few bonus pubs) in a one-day whirlwind pub crawl, and I have decided how I am going to vote.

I fully realize that I can't possibly assess the true character of a pub in a single visit, particularly when I visited some in that sleepy period shortly after opening and others in the full swing of a busy Saturday night. I also did not eat in any of these pubs, which might disadvantage those that emphasize food. And, of course, what I want from my pub may not be the same thing you want from your pub. But life ain't fair, so save your complaints and cast your own vote!

So here they are, ranked in order. I will say that the top two were very difficult to separate, with the final ranking decided on location and my personal preferences in comfort and decor:

1. The Southampton Arms

What an absolute gem. The Southampton Arms, tucked away in a Highgate Road storefront in Kentish Town, combines an outstanding selection of English craft ales and ciders -- twelve handpumps for beer and six for cider -- with the rustic, lived-in comfort of the best English pubs. The server knew the characteristics of the beers he was pouring and was able to give an intelligent, nuanced recommendation. If this place were any closer to home, I would happily kick back in the church pew beside the open fire every day, from the minute they opened until they chucked me out at closing time. My selection for North London Pub of the Year.

The Southampton Arms gets my vote for North London Pub of the Year!

2. The Jolly Butchers

The Jolly Butchers would be perfectly at home if someone plucked it from the busy streets of Stoke Newington and plopped it back down in Santa Monica, somewhere between The Library Alehouse and Father's Office. This is more beer bar than pub -- which is not a bad thing -- with a young and vibrant crowd filling the clean, modern interior with a definite buzz. The selection of English craft brews is good, and The Jolly Butchers boasts a better selection of international beers than The Southampton Arms. The delicious Belgian Mort Subite Kriek and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, among others, were on draught, and a broad range of international beers (including Brooklyn Brewery and Flying Dog) is available in bottles. (Might there be a Stone or Russian River or Lagunitas beer pouring here in the near future? We California expats can only hope.) The servers knew their beers and seemed genuinely excited about them. The Jolly Butchers was edged out of my top spot only by The Southampton Arms's inviting, relaxed atmosphere and its Kentish Town location, but on a different day I might well have made a different decision.

The Jolly Butchers, a solid second.

3. North Nineteen

Wrapped inside a bland exterior in a charmless Upper Holloway neighborhood is North Nineteen, the sort of cosy family pub and restaurant that deserves to be the center of community life. The interior is newly refurbished and it makes no effort to simulate period charm -- it is unpretentious, clean and modern. The front bar has a large open fireplace and a flat screen TV for the friendly local Arsenal supporters, and a small dining room off to the side. The back bar (go through the gents) has darts and another fireplace.  Nine handpumps, three in front and six in back, and a good selection of whiskies as well. The service was notably amiable and efficient. Were I not on a mission of my own, I would have been content to sit in the bar and watch football all afternoon.

The back bar at North Nineteen, empty on a Saturday afternoon, no doubt awaiting the punters' return from the Arsenal match at the Emirates.

4. The Charles Lamb

The Charles Lamb is exceptional in two ways: it is exceptionally charming, and it is exceptionally small. The place is all white and pale green with simple, clean lines, and it has a slightly feminine air about it. This is a pleasant change from the overtly masculine, dark-and-dingy decor of many neighborhood pubs (an aesthetic epitomized by the fading glory of the Lamb's endangered neighbor, The Wenlock Arms). But its diminutive size is an inconvenience.  We were able to find seats after only a short wait at the bar on our late Saturday evening visit, but I have been to the Lamb on a Saturday afternoon and had difficulty getting through door for the crowd. The Lamb has only three handpumps (I doubt there is space for any more).

Charming, but too small.

5. The Duke of Wellington

There seems to be some sort of magical effect in operation at The Duke of Wellington: Whenever a seat is opened up, whether at a table or at the bar, it is instantly filled, and yet one never can tell from whence the people come -- the place never seems to be crowded, and no one ever seems to be waiting for a chair. It's almost as if the punters are a liquid, flowing in at the same rate as they flow out, always finding their own level.

That said, I found The Duke of Wellington to be pleasant but entirely unexceptional. The interior decor is minimalist to the point of nonexistence; the exterior is unremarkable, and there is nothing to recommend a visit to its Dalston location.

The Duke of Wellington: Not a serious contender.

6. Three Compasses

I took an instand dislike to Three Compasses, and I'm not sure why. It might have been the toothless drunk at the bar who decided for unknown reasons that I was the perfect audience for his harangue about the poor service he was receiving, or perhaps it was the surly server who promptly demonstrated that his complaints were justified. The front bar was fine but unexceptional; I did not like the cavern-like back bar, which seemed a bit of a Chucky Cheese-style game room for obnoxious groups of beer drinking teens and 20-somethings. The selection of cask ales was decent, particularly if you are a fan of Redemption Brewing, and the Redemption Pale Ale I had was fine. But I did not linger over it, and I will not return for another.

Last place: Three Compasses

Ridiculously Ambitious Birthday Plans

This year my ridiculously ambitious birthday plans involve visiting all 6 pubs nominated for CAMRA North London Pub of the Year between noon (when most of them open) and 6:30 (family-suitable dinner reservations).  This wouldn't be much of a task if all of these pubs were in close proximity -- say, all within Hampstead or all within Islington -- but they're not. They are spread across all of North London, from Kentish Town to Hornsey to Stoke Newington. None are in Hampstead.

To elevate the task to the ridiculous, I've added a couple of non-candidate pubs to the list as options. These are pubs of high repute that are close to the six candidate pubs, but that are located in areas that otherwise make them inconvenient for me to visit. I have also chosen a pub to end the day with dinner that is not a candidate and is not particularly reputed as a pub-qua-pub, but which is highly rated by the The Good Food Guide 2011.

So without further ado, here's where I plan to spend my 47th birthday, in this order, and here's a link to a Google map showing them all:

The Southampton Arms

Kentish Town

Time Out says, “The idea behind this terrific place is audaciously simple: take a grim old boozer and strip it back to bare floors, dark paint, a few old photos and a working fireplace. . . . Drinking here is a bit like dropping in on an old friend who lives in a slightly shabby but utterly comfortable country cottage. It's a brilliant idea perfectly executed.” The pub has 18 handpumps, pouring exclusively ale and cider from small, independent U.K. breweries.

Transport:  London Overground, Finchley Road & Frognal to Gospel Oak. Walk to 139 Highgate Rd. (5 minutes/0.3 miles).

Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Pineapple

A former local CAMRA Pub of the Year and a Real Heritage Pub. Saved by local activists in 2002 from conversion to offices and flats.

Transport: Walk from The Southampton Arms to 51 Leverton St. (11 minutes/0.5 miles).

North Nineteen

Upper Holloway

A “steak and ale” house, North Nineteen has two separate bars, with three real ales in the front bar and six in the back bar. Also known for its selection of whiskies.  Time Out calls it a “gem of a makeover” in an otherwise drab neighborhood.

Transport: Tube to Archway (Northern Line, High Barnet Branch). Walk to 194-196 Sussex Way (15 minutes/0.8 miles).

Three Compasses

Hornsey

Two-time winner of CAMRA National Community Pub of the Year and Local Branch Pub of the Season. The current building dates from 1896 and was extensively refurbished in 2004.

Transport: Walk NE on Sussex Way from North Nineteen to Bavaria Rd (Stop M) (1 min/300 ft). Take Bus 91 to Hornsey Rise. From Stop K, take Bus 41 towards Tottenham Hale to Tottenham Lane/Turnpike Lane. Walk 2 blocks west to 62 High Street.

Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Salisbury

Harringay

One of the few Grade II* listed pubs in London and a Top 10 Heritage Pub. Built in 1899 in lavish high Victorian style, the pub’s original features—both interior and exterior—have been preserved, and the building was meticulously restored in 2003.

Jolly Butchers

Stoke Newington

Jolly Butchers was reinvented and reopened last April to great acclaim from both the beer community and the wider drinking public—although the fact that its new incarnation was openly modeled on The Southampton Arms did put some noses out of joint. Jolly Butchers has ten handpumps, typically pouring seven cask ales and three ciders, all from independent craft breweries.

Transport:

·         From Three Compasses: Walk east to Turnpike Lane Station. From stop Y, take Bus 67 towards Aldgate Bus Station; get off at Stoke Newington Station. Walk south to 204 Stoke Newington High St. (5 min/0.2 miles).

·         From The Salisbury: Walk east on St. Ann’s Rd. to St. Ann’s Hospital bus stop (10 min./0.5 miles); take Bus 67 as above.

The Duke of Wellington

Dalston

The Duke of Wellington was established in 1842, and its most recent refurbishment in 2009 was intended to bring it into the 21^st century while respecting its tradition. CAMRA North London’s Pub of the Season for Spring 2010.

Transport: From Stoke Newington Station, Stop C, take Bus 149 or 67 to Dalston Junction Station. From station, walk west to 119 Balls Pond Rd. (5 min/0.2 miles).

Optional Non-Candidate Stop: The Wenlock Arms

Islington

Consistently rated one of the best pubs in London by Beer Advocate, is a 4-time CAMRA North London Pub of the Year, and was named a Top Ten pub by Fancyapint in February 2011. The pub was slated for demolition last October; it was saved, but as of February it remained up for sale and its future is uncertain.

Transport: From Duke of Wellington, walk west on Balls Pond Rd to Southgate Rd. Bus Stop. Take Bus 56 (St. Barts) to Angel Station; walk to 26 Wenlock Rd (15 min/0.6 miles).

The Charles Lamb

Islington

The only pub on this list I have already been to, this is an exceptionally charming little pub, unfortunately located across from atrocious blocks of modern flats. The building dates from 1839, but it has only recently been converted to use as a public house and few original features remain. The Charles Lamb Lager is brewed locally by Meantime.

Transport: See Wenlock Arms above.

For Dinner (Non-Candidate): The Albion

Islington

Joint highest rating of London gastropubs from the 2011 Good Food Guide and rated one of the U.K.’s best pubs by The Guardian. Particularly well known for its Sunday lunch menu (the main meal of the week in England).

Transport: Return to Angel Station. Cross Upper St. and head NW on Liverpool Rd to Richmond; W on Richmond; N on Thornhill to 10 Thornhill Rd. (13 min/0.6 miles from Angel).

Pubs & Restaurants: The Compass (Islington N1)

The Compass, 58 Penton St., Islington

We found ourselves stranded near St. Pancras of a Saturday lunchtime, and the solution seemed obvious: To Angel we will go.  A perfect opportunity to try The Compass, a well-regarded gastropub at the corner of Penton Road and Chapel Market, about 6-minutes walk from Angel Underground.

Great happiness ensued.  Here’s why:

First and foremost, the food was delicious. The dishes were well prepared, imaginatively constructed and gorgeously presented. More on that later.

Second, from the clean, simple pub décor to the relaxed banter of our server, we felt wholly welcome, as if we had been regulars for years rather than strangers who happened in off the street. To anthropomorphize, The Compass seems entirely comfortable in its own skin, without a hint of pretense or superciliousness.

Now the details.

The main dining room is a typical pub room, with a dozen or so typical pub tables; there is dark wood everywhere, bathed in soft natural light from the south facing windows. The only clues that this is not a simple neighborhood boozer are the open kitchen tucked in the corner behind the bar, and the fact that all of the tables are set for dining. There are two other families here with babies and prams; it seems we’re finally getting the hang of finding good places to eat at off-peak hours, which certainly makes dining out with a seven-month old and his enormous pram much easier.

Heidi and Jack peruse the menu

The bar offers three cask ales, which the website says are “regularly changing.” Two of the three pouring at our visit—the Adnams Bitter and the Whitstable East India Pale Ale—are also pictured on the website, however, so I can’t vouch for how “regular” that “changing” may be.  We started off with the Bath Ales Barnstormer, a deep, reddish-brown bitter that is firmly hopped but well balanced, with hints of fruit and distant echoes of chocolate. The Whitstable IPA, in contrast, was a cloudy pale yellow, with a wonderful hop aroma and fruity late-hop flavor; in my opinion, it was inadequately bittered for the style and ran thin on the tongue. That said, both beers were served in excellent condition.

(The server gave me a wine list, but if you want to know anything about it, you’re reading the wrong review.)



Braised featherblade with beetroot and wasabi mash



The menu is modern English, and our initial reaction was that it promised much – an interesting variety of dishes, with some imaginative combinations.  Would the chef’s execution fulfill that promise? We decided to try two very different mains: the braised featherblade[1] with beetroot and wasabi mash, and the whole plaice in a moules marinieres sauce. Both were wonderful.

The featherblade was as enjoyable to look at as to eat: a succulent piece of beef set atop a mound of beet-colored mashed potatoes, swimming in jus, beautifully garnished with contrasting and complementary colors. The star of the dish was the mash, the spicy wasabi playing against the rich, rounded flavors of the braised beef.

The plaice lacked the dramatic flair of the featherblade, but it was a fine dish. It was simply prepared, pan fried in a light batter, served whole, sauced with a restrained moules mariniere. The result was an airy, flavorful mouthful, the mussels in the sauce providing a texture and flavor contrast to the delicate white fish.

Whole plaice in sauce moules mariniere

We finished the meal with a cheese board, on this day including a bleu d’Auvergne, a chevre and a camembert. All three were richly flavored and delicious, each in its own way, and I could kick myself for forgetting to note the cheesemakers!

The verdict: All things considered, possibly the best gastropub experience I’ve had since coming to London. We shall return!

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[1] Americans would call this cut a blade roast or chuck roast.

Restaurants: The Butcher's Hook, Fulham

The Butcher's Hook, 477 Fulham Road

There are few things in life I love to hate more than Chelsea Football Club. Had I known anything about The Butcher’s Hook when I selected it, more or less randomly, from The Good Food Guide 2011, I likely would have reconsidered my choice. That would have been a shame, because this is a superior gastropub.

If you are as ignorant as I was, here’s a little background: The Butcher’s Hook sits at the corner of Fulham Road and Holmead Road in Fulham, directly across the street from the Stamford Gate (east) entrance to Chelsea FC’s Stamford Bridge[1] stadium. In 1905, the pub on this site was called The Rising Sun, and it was here on March 10 of that year that Henry Augustus Mears and Frederick Parker founded Chelsea Football Club. Indeed, The Butcher’s Hook hosted the Chelsea FC centennial celebration shortly after it opened in February 2005.

Wonderfully, none of this history is apparent in the pub. We arrived for a Saturday lunch to find the main room large, clean and inviting, with simple stripped-wood floors and furniture, white walls and natural lighting muted by sheer white curtains. The tables are well spaced, giving the room an open and relaxed ambience. 

Space for the pram, and a nice cabernet, too!.

The bar was pouring two cask ales, both from Greene King; my IPA was served at the perfect cellar temperature and carbonation level. The Butcher’s Hook emphasizes its wines, however, having been named the Best Wine Pub for 2008 by The Publican. They do have a large and varied wine list, with many selections also available by the glass and 500 ml carafe. The menu suggests wine pairings with several of the starters and mains.

The Butcher’s Hook describes its menu as having a “strong British slant,” and perhaps many of the dishes have roots in traditional British cuisine, but chef Jacky Lelievre’s French roots are plain to see in the preparations.



Delicious mushroom & gorgonzola pie.

 As we often do for lunch at a new restaurant, we chose to sample and share a variety of starters. We were pleased with all four; three of the four were excellent. The standout dish for me was the mushroom and gorgonzola pie; the mushrooms were musky and meaty and blended perfectly with a restrained, creamy gorgonzola; the pastry crust was flawlessly light and airy, vanishing in one’s mouth to leave a hint of texture and flavor. The confit pig cheeks were rich and tender, the crispy onions and lentils accompaniments giving it depth and range at each end of the flavor scale. The beer-battered whiting goujons[2] were light and crispy and delicious. Only the Old Spot port and sage terrine wasn’t exceptional—but it was still quite good, particularly with the caramelized onion marmalade. Even the basket of sourdough bread that preceded the meal was deliciously tart and crusty and notably superior.

The one flaw in the meal was dessert. Heidi had an own-made hokey pokey ice cream. The flavor was bland—on par with a generic supermarket vanilla—and the texture icy.

I have complained about gastropub service in the past; I have no such complaints about The Butcher’s Hook. The room was rather crowded by the end of our lunch, with one very large party occupying much of our server’s time. Nevertheless, she remained responsive and helpful throughout our meal, and the serving staff generally was quick and friendly.

Overall, we had a very positive experience and would happily return to The Butcher’s Hook—its unfortunate connections to Chelsea FC notwithstanding!!

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[1] The name of the stadium has nothing to do with the famous Battle of Stamford Bridge in 1066, which occurred nowhere near here. If you are curious how the stadium got its name, the story is on the Chelsea FC website.

[2] “Goujon” is, essentially, an upscale restaurant word for “fish finger.”

Restaurants: The Old Bull & Bush

Tucked away in a charming corner of North End between Golders Hill Park and Sandy Heath, The Old Bull & Bush bills itself as a “country pub and eating house.” In truth, since its renovation in 2006, The Old Bull & Bush looks and feels a lot more like an urban restaurant than a country pub—and a mediocre restaurant, at that.

The place certainly has historical pedigree. There has been a pub on the site since 1721, and the current building is Grade II listed. Artists William Hogarth (1697-1764), Thomas Gainsborough (1727-1788) and Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792) all drank here. The pub was the subject of a hit song called “Down at the Old Bull & Bush” before The Great War.

Yet one gets little sense of this history from the modern interior, and on a recent Sunday visit there was nothing about the place that felt like a “pub.” The bar has some period features—an open fireplace, an exposed beam running the length of the room, a plaster arch over the bar, a few well-worn wooden tables and benches—but they are offset by such jarring modern juxtapositions as silver metal tables with gray felt-covered armchairs, insipid charcoal drawings of wine bottles covering the walls, and cow-skin rugs reminiscent of the sort of roadside souvenir stand in the American west that hawks faux Native American jewelry to hapless tourists. The staff were promoting Bloody Marys rather than cask ales; they offered a wine list, but no beer menu. Only two casks were on, both London Pride.  A return visit on a weeknight proved better for the beer—they were pouring three cask ales, all in good condition—but the atmosphere still felt more like a modern restaurant bar, not a 300-year-old English pub.

A family Friday in the OB&B bar

Judged as a restaurant, The Old Bull & Bush gets mixed marks. The dining room has a pleasant ambiance: the black wooden tables are well spaced and provide a nice colour contrast to the light floor and walls. The indirect lighting provides a soft, comforting glow.  We sat in a cushioned banquette built into a bay window that was spacious and comfortable.

Some of the food was good. I had a side dish of wild mushrooms sauteed in garlic, and they were fresh and meaty and delicious. Our appetizer was a well conceived dish of scallops set on a bed of cold mango and mixed vegetables; the scallops were fresh and sweet, and I enjoyed the contrasting textures and flavours of the fruit and vegetables. (I thought the dish called for a better sear on the scallops, but reasonable minds can differ.) And, unexpectedly, the espresso drinks we had to finish the meal were excellent, and proved the highlight of the meal.



Ample signage, methinks

On the other hand, our main courses were very disappointing. Heidi, ever searching for mussels to equal those we had in Ballyvaughan, got a bowl of mussels so grossly overcooked they had the texture and flavor of a soapy kitchen sponge. My pan-seared duck breast was poorly executed, and turned out tough and flavourless.

The service, too, was spotty. Our server was friendly, quick and attentive—when she remembered that we were there.  Diverting her attention away from her telephone proved to be a challenge.

Overall, although there were high points, this was a disappointing dining and drinking experience at this price point.

Restaurants: The Holly Bush



The Holly Bush



There is no place quite like The Holly Bush.[1] Although only meters from Hampstead tube station, the pub is tucked away on a quiet cul-de-sac at the top of Holly Mount, accessible from Hampstead High Street only by a steep stairway or an uphill climb along a narrow road.  As a result, it is an urban pub with a country-pub feel.

The building is worthy of its location.  The pub was built in 1643 as the stables of a house later owned by painter George Romney; shortly after Romney’s death in 1802, the stables were converted to a tavern, and pints have been pouring here since 1807. Artist John Constable gave an art lecture in these rooms in the early 19th Century; physicist Michael Faraday debated, by gas light, the utility of electricity. It is rumoured that Samuel Johnson and James Boswell drank here, and that the ghost of a long-departed waitress still takes the occasional food order.

The Holly Bush is now a Fuller’s pub, pouring a range of Fuller’s products on five casks, including the ubiquitous London Pride and the richer, more flavorful ESB. The drier Harveys Sussex Bitter also is available, on a sort of permanent guest-beer basis.  I have been told that The Holly Bush pours the best pint of Sussex in London; I look forward to trying to verify that claim.

The food is generally very good gastropub fare, but it can be inconsistent.  I have tried only one starter, a terrine of foie gras with chutney, that I found very pleasant for the price point.[2]  My braised venison shank was excellent—served on the bone, the meat was flavorful and tender, and the sauce thick and rich.  The steak-and-ale pie is superior, and it looks as good as it tastes.  The fish pie is smokey and creamy, packed with fresh, firm chunks of salmon and haddock. The sides and desserts have been uniformly good—the roasted vegetables in particular were sweet and cooked to the just the right texture. 

Enjoying a recent Sunday roast at The Holly Bush

On the other hand, I have had a roasted lamb breast that, although beautifully presented, was very chewy and fatty. Similarly, I found the Sunday roast sirloin tough and under seasoned—although I must disclose that both my wife and daughter disagreed, and happily gobbled up their portions.

I have been quite pleased and rather disappointed with the service, sometimes simultaneously.  For example, on one crowded Friday evening during the Christmas season, we booked ahead through Toptable, but The Holly Bush never received our reservation. Nevertheless, and despite being fully booked, the staff quickly found us a table and seated us for dinner. But then, once our food orders were taken, our server seemed to disappear—I cannot imagine how much money has been lost by The Holly Bush and other gastropubs because servers infrequently (or never) return to take additional drink orders while diners are waiting for their food. If a pub is going to adopt a restaurant table-service model and charge restaurant prices, its diners have every right to expect restaurant-quality service.

And one more small complaint, while I’m at it—can someone please turn down the heat?! The place is unbearably hot, in both the front and back rooms, far too often.

That said, I have been very pleased with my experiences at The Holly Bush, and it has become our default local option for both a pint and a meal.  I recommend it highly.

[1] For my impressions of The Holly Bush as a pub-crawl destination, see my post here.

[2] I qualify my evaluation of the foie gras by price point because, perhaps unfairly, I cannot help but compare this dish to the transcendent terrine of foie gras de canard served at Thomas Keller’s Bouchon Bistro in Beverly Hills, which is the most delicious thing I have ever eaten.

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Three Pub Update

We've had the chance to revisit some of our local pubs to reconsider our initial impressions.  Here are some updates:

The Old Bull & Bush: Heidi, Jack and I returned to The Old Bull & Bush for dinner tonight (Nov. 26).  The results were mixed. We liked the ambiance of the dining room: the black wooden tables were well spaced and provided a nice colour contrast to the light floor and walls, and the indirect lighting provided a soft, comforting glow.  We sat in a cushioned banquette built into a bay window that was particularly nice.  They had three cask ales on draft: London Pride (of course), Adnam's Broadside and Sharp's Doom Bar.  I had a pint each of the latter. Both were in very good condition.  I had a side dish of wild mushrooms sauteed in garlic, and they were fresh and meaty and delicious.  And, somewhat surprisingly, the espresso drinks we had to finish the meal were excellent.

On the other hand, the service was spotty -- the waitress seemed only sporadically to remember that we were there, and getting her attention (particularly when she was on the telephone) was a challenge.  The scallops in our appetizer, set on a delicious bed of cold mango and mixed vegetables, were sweet and flavourful, but needed a better sear.  The biggest disappointment, though, were the mains.  Heidi's mussels were overcooked and had the texture of a kitchen sponge.  My pan-seared duck breast was chewy and flavourless.

The verdict:  Overall, disappointing at this price point.  Given its convenient location, though, we might give The Old Bull & Bush another shot for a pizza and beer in the "bar" area.

The Spaniard’s Inn: The upside of London's inability to cope with even a moderate amount of snow is that I'm working from home this week (the week before Christmas).  Yesterday, Heidi and I took Jack for a snow trek across the Heath to the Spaniards, trusting it wouldn't be too crowded on a Monday lunchtime. We were right, although a fair number of tourists and even a few locals also had braved the snow.  We really liked the ramshackle, rambling charm of the place, with an open fire in the main room, dark cushioned pews and worn wooden tables. The hot mulled wine was fruity and refreshing, and the pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord was perfect. It's easy to see why this place attracts the crowds.

One caveat: We did not eat, so I can't comment on the food, but the weekday lunch menu looked overly elaborate to me, and suspiciously so -- I cannot imagine them prepping and cooking so many different and diverse dishes well or with fresh ingredients, particularly on a slow service day.

The Holly Bush: We returned to The Holly Bush for dinner again last Saturday night (Dec. 18) and we were pleased. We tend to eat early by London standards (the better to accommodate Jack), and yet the place already was buzzing with a Saturday-before-Christmas vibe. Sure enough, our dinner was pleasantly interrupted by a round of communal caroling as the village choir came to call.

Score a big one for The Holly Bush -- although they never received our reservation and despite the crowd, they found us a table promptly. (We made our reservation through Toptable; this is the second time we've had trouble with reservations made through them.) We started with a very nice terrine of foie gras and chutney dish. For her main, Heidi again had the steak-and-ale pie, which looked so appetizing that it tempted the drinkers nearby to cancel their dinner plans elsewhere to get their own. My roasted lamb breast was equally attractive, and although the cut was fatty and the texture a bit chewy, the flavor was very good.

The Hampstead Heritage Pub Crawl: The Holly Bush

I worked at home last Friday just because I could, and by the end of a longer-than-expected day I was hungry and ready to get out of the house.  I took my stuffy head and runny nose with me out into the drizzle and headed up to the village local for, I thought, a quick pint and a bite. (Of course, I ended up staggering home six hours later after an impromptu solo pub crawl, never having gotten that bite.  But that’s a different story.)

We consider The Holly Bush to be our village “local,” even though it’s not quite as local as we’d like.  The Holly Bush is eight tenths of a mile from our flat by the shortest route (which involves a muddy slog up a hidden alleyway), and nine tenths of a mile by our usual pram-friendly route—either way, it's a solid 20-minute walk, mostly uphill.  In contrast, there’s a pub on Finchley Road called The Castle that’s only four-tenths of a mile away, and one in West Hampstead called The Lion that’s seven-tenths of a mile away.  In fact, even The Old Bull & Bush is a mere half mile walk, and that pleasantly across the Heath.

But there is no place quite like The Holly Bush.  For starters, it is the only pub in London (so far) to which I have some sentimental attachment.  The Holly Bush, you see, was also my local pub when I spent a semester studying here in 1985 (our flat is only a few hundred yards from the college I attended).  That time was as eye opening and life changing for me as Lucinda’s year in London seems to have been for her, and I remember those six months fondly.

Then there is the pub itself. Its location is unique, tucked away on a quiet cul-de-sac at the top of Holly Mount, accessible from the High Street only by a steep stairway or an uphill climb along a narrow road.  The result is that, although it sits only 100 yards from Hampstead Tube station, it has a decidedly quiet, country-pub feel.

And the building is worthy of its location.  The pub was built in 1643 as the stables of a house later owned by painter George Romney; shortly after Romney’s death in 1802, the stables were converted to a tavern, and pints have been pouring here since 1807. Artist John Constable (who is buried at nearby St. John-at-Hampstead Church) gave an art lecture here in the early 19^th Century; physicist Michael Faraday (who refused internment in Westminster Abbey, and is buried instead across the Heath in Highgate Cemetery) participated in a gas-lit debate here on whether electricity might prove useful.  There are rumors that Samuel Johnson and Boswell drank here, and that the ghost of a long-departed waitress still takes the occasional food order.

The Holly Bush is now a Fuller’s pub, so one should expect that most or all of the five cask ales would be Fuller’s products.  On this visit, they were pouring Fuller’s London Pride, ESB, Discovery and Seafarer’s.  They have also always had Harvey’s Sussex Bitter available when I have been there, and in fact The Holly Bush is reputed to pour the best pint of Sussex in London.  (I have not yet had the opportunity to verify that claim.)  A pint of Sussex from The Holly Bush is indeed a fine bitter beer.

If I have a complaint about The Holly Bush, it’s that the gastro portion of the business has become too dominant – specifically, the pub accepts bookings for most of its tables for diners, including those in the very popular coffee bar. This can leave the drop-in punter feeling a bit squeezed out on a busy evening, as there are relatively few tables and it is a popular pub.  On the other hand, having had an excellent (if pricey) braised venison shank and a superior steak-and-ale pie here, we would have few qualms about booking a table ourselves if we were looking for a place to eat and drink, rather than just to drink.

Update: We returned to The Holly Bush for dinner again last Saturday night and we were pleased. We tend to eat early by London standards (the better to accomodate Jack), and yet the place already was buzzing with a Saturday-before-Christmas vibe. Sure enough, our dinner was pleasantly interrupted by a round of communal caroling as the village choir came to call.

Score a big one for The Holly Bush -- although they never received our reservation and despite the crowd, they found us a table promptly. (We made our reservation through Toptable; this is the second time we've had trouble with reservations made through them.) We started with a very nice terrine of foie gras and chutney dish. For her main, Heidi again had the steak-and-ale pie, which looked so appetizing that it tempted the drinkers nearby to cancel their dinner plans elsewhere to get their own. My roasted lamb breast was equally attractive, and although the cut was fatty and the texture a bit chewy, the flavor was very good.

The Verdict: There is no question that The Holly Bush will be on the pub crawl, and will likely be the first (and possibly final) destination.

The Hampstead Heritage Pub Crawl: The Duke of Hamilton

The Duke of Hamilton

I took a roundabout route up the hill from The Flask on my way to The Duke of Hamilton, so I could eyeball  the Wells Tavern and The Old White Bear (formerly, Ye Olde White Bear) along the way .  I had excluded those historic pubs from my original list of contenders because I had heard that, as the Old Bull & Bush, recent renovations had turned them into gastropubs that were more gastro than pub.  I confirmed that neither was suitable for the pub crawl, but it seems that Heidi, Jack and I will have no shortage of new places to try for Sunday roast.

I knew from the first that The Duke was going to be different—it was so quiet and empty-looking from the street I thought it was closed.  As I went up the steps to the entrance, I passed a small group of twenty-somethings debating whether to go in on a lark, as if they had been dared to do so.  I had no such qualms and headed inside.

The Duke's Bar

And I immediately thought I’d regret it.  The place was stone quiet – no music, no television, no murmur of conversation or clinking glasses.  There was no restaurant buzz because there is no food service here.  Instead, a couple of grizzled old regulars stood at the left end of the bar, and a few more sat at a table in the corner.  Off to my right sat a little family of French tourists with soft drinks, looking every bit like they had wandered in by mistake and been trapped inside.   I felt a bit like Griffin Dunne and David Naughton when they walked into the Slaughtered Lamb in An American Werewolf in London.

And, in fact, the Duke reminded me a bit of that pub.  The interior is a squared off U-shape around the bar, with a fireplace on either side.  Checkers and chess tables were off the left; darts off to the right.  The decor consisted of old cricket and rugby memorabilia, hung over (and sometimes pasted onto) 1960s era wallpaper.  The bar itself was topped with an attractive panel of wood and stained glass, with up-curving lamps reflecting light off the ceiling.  The overall effect was of a posh pub gone to seed, or a seedy pub slightly spiffed up.

I suspect it is the former, because the Duke has been having a rough time of it lately.  Although there has been a pub under the same name on the site since 1721, the Duke’s current building is not protected.  It sits in New End, well away from the High Street, across from a former hospital that has been converted into residences.  (The pub’s next door neighbour, the New End Theatre, was the hospital’s mortuary until 1974.)  When the lease was due to expire, the owners notified the tenant publican that the pub was to be closed and converted into housing.

There was a popular uprising against the plan, and the owners eventually withdrew their planning application.  It is believed, however, that they intend to file a new application, and in the meantime the publican’s lease expired.  The Duke is thus operating in limbo, and that’s how the place feels.

There were five cask handles at the bar, but only three were pouring – two were the ever-present London Pride, the third was Fuller’s ESB.  I got an ESB and scuttled off with my beer and my Faulkner novel to a little table off to the right of the bar, near a framed photograph of Oliver Reed, who (I am informed) made great strides toward drinking himself to death in this very pub.  Other notable patrons have included Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor and Peter O’Toole.

As I sat and enjoyed my pint and read my book, two or three groups of younger people came in and the old regulars began to take their leave, off home to supper.  Eventually, a group of college-age kids occupied the darts area, and by the time I drained the glass and toddled off home, the place at last felt like a pub.

The Verdict:  If The Duke survives, its location in the New End and its distinct look make it a likely stop for a quick one.