Ok, hands up, I should have written this about a month ago. There was a whole Fulham thing that we did that, due to various lame excuses, neither of us has got around to writing up. However I will stress, with vehemence, that it has nothing at all to do with the quality of the venues we visited. Far from it. In fact we went to some of our best pubs yet so this is the first step in redressing that balance.

It’s fortunate that the Atlas is a great pub, this being the case, I’ve been before. A few times. In fact when I used to live on New King’s Road I was here most weeks, so even my tenuous memory has a huge amount of data to stumble through until something sticks.

It’s a pub in the fairly consistent stable of George and Richard Manners (see also, in order of our preference: The Fox & Hounds, The Swan, The Cumberland Arms & The Dartmouth Castle – but there’s not a lot between them, in a good way) and sits maybe second or third among it’s peers. We’ll get to the rest in due course.

Wine is the focus here, it’s one of the registered homes of the London Wine Academy, and the hand-picked selection is all under £30 but top-drawer none the less. We went for the ‘Hatter’s Hill’ Marlborough Pinot Noir (£28) and were treated to a very fine example indeed. There are always special selections to choose from and you’re unlikely to go wrong.

The food is typical for the group, mainly rustic Mediterranean fare with a few English classics thrown in, but it’s unswervingly competent and comfortably above the gastropub average. We didn’t eat this time (keep an eye out for J’s review of the pub round the corner), but I have many times and I will again.

The gaff is fairly suit-heavy so if middle-earning excitable Fulhamites aren’t your thing then you’re best to avoid, but there’s always a good after-work buzz and they’re all pretty harmless before 9.

This was the first stop so no drunken tales to regale (again, keep an eye out for messy future reviews) but a worthy addition to the Publocation collection. A solid, consistent and thoroughly enjoyable boozer and one that will remain a favourite for some time to come.

Two reviews in as many days? Bobby’s on fire…

Bobby

Where: The Atlas, 16 Seagrave Road, Fulham, London, SW6 1RX

When: Can’t remember exactly, March 2010 sometime…

Unpublicised: Neat little outside area down the side of the pub plus a private hire room upstairs for up to 100

Closes: 11pm
Restaurant:
Lunch Mon-Fri 12 – 2.30, Sat 12 – 4, Sun 12 – 10
Dinner 6 – 10

Tel: 020 7385 9129

Website: http://www.theatlaspub.co.uk/

Menus: http://www.theatlaspub.co.uk/menu.pdf

Interest: I always call it The Eagle for some reason

As I write this, actually sat in the bar, my fellow Publocator is stuck in a Maplewood, New Jersey version of Groundhog Day. Courtesy of the Icelandic Volcano Scam he’s on night eight, of what should only have been four, of a six-hour-a-night bar crawl in a one-bar town. And he’s not due back for another week. Lucky b…

I digress.

Skylon is about as impressive as bars get, it’s windows look bigger than the walls of my building and my building is three stories high. The views over the river are so breathtaking it’s hard to describe without using clichés. The bar is in the middle of the open-plan Skylon restaurant inside Royal Festival Hall on the west of the South Bank (we are talking about London, not Gaza) and on this Wednesday evening it’s bustling with after-work drinkers and pre-some-sort-of-high-brow-entertainment diners.

The reasons for coming here to drink, outside of the location, are the cocktails. It’s April and the drinks list includes a ‘Spring Collection’ that wouldn’t be out of place in any bar in the world. The classics are all here and there’s a comprehensive Bellini section. The bottle list is as good as it gets without specialising and the bar snacks are straight out of a Michelin tasting menu. A member of the H&H stable, the venue comes with a high-end pedigree but lives up to expectations well.

I’m waiting for a companion (who, at her behest, shall remain nameless) and I’m about an hour early so I can get stuck into this while it’s fresh in my mind. The temptation to get stuck into the cocktail list is almost as compelling but if I do we’ll be all out of kilter, so it’s a bottle of Heineken to start (ice cold, chilled glass and quietly topped up by the waitress before I realised it needed doing).

When my companion arrived I jumped straight into a British Twist from the ‘Bartender’s Choice’ section; fresh lemon juice and lychee liquor shaken with Bombay Sapphire, creme de mure, fresh mint and blackberries. It was even better than it sounds. The Bellini gets just as many ooohs from my guest and after that the signature drink, ‘Skylon’ (grapes are involved – can you tell this is now the day after?) - in a stunning moulded deco martini glass, goes down even better. Around this point our waitress has suffered a mild bout of amnesia but we both comment how it doesn’t really detract.

Bar snacks, created by exec chef Helena Puolakka, are well thought-out but delivery is mixed – pea, leek and mint tart is exquisite as are smoked fishcake balls, duck pancakes are ok but crumbed prawns are a little dry. Only a small detraction from what is turning out to be a very pleasant evening indeed.

I really have to mention again just how incredible the view is from here, it’s dark now, the huge space is almost entirely candlelit and the lights of the city are reflected back at us by the river, these kind of views are normally seen from much higher up than this and the difference at this level is inspiring. Skylon is a must-visit place, eating and drinking are a pleasure and the environment has little comparison. Make the effort as soon as you can.

The evening closes out and a great evening it was too, I leave very happy to have been and with only the smallest of regrets that my ash-frustrated partner in crime wasn’t there to see it.

I texted him a little later to let him know but he was too drunk to reply.

Bobby

Where: Skylon, Royal Festival Hall, London SE1 8XX

When: Wed 21st April, 8pm

Unpublicised: On sunny days the blinds are down until around 7.30pm, when they raise up everyone goes quiet for a second.

Closes: 1am Mon- Sat, 10.30pm Sun
Restaurant: Lunch 12pm – 2.30pm
Dinner 5.30pm – 10.30pm

Tel: 020 7654 7800

Website: http://www.danddlondon.com/restaurants/skylon/home

Menus: Restaurant, grill and bar. All very good.

Interest: Apparently there’s a theatre upstairs.

The Stag, Hampstead

To follow a previous analogy, if the Regent is an old friend and The Churchill Arms is an older brother then The Stag must be, by definition, my old friend’s sister. Therefore do I fancy the pants off her from afar, pretend to ignore her beauty whilst secretly liaising with her at every opportunity? Or do I hang with the lads, play it cool and avoid her like the plague? OK, you’re on to me- I’ve been back and I’m looking to take advantage of her at every opportunity. It may not be love but the infatuation is growing.

So much so that Publocation have broken it latest spate of west London love affairs to head North- not Skegness magnitude north , and we’re far from slumming it, but the rarefied air tastes good. We’ve stood upon, spilled pints and crisscrossed Hampstead many times before, few pubs escaping us, but the latest incarnation of this hundred plus year old boozer- courtesy of the Perett brothers of Regent fame- is new on the Publocation radar.

I’ll have a balanced view of this one given I’ve seen the Thursday late , lads, lagered version and the Saturday, Valentine’s, sober enough to get home but too drunk to stay awake (stupid romantic promises)version. My first encounter was at the end of yet another Publocation crawl that began on a rainy night with two above middling gastro pubs in Kentish Town. We then moved into to a futile black cab search for a boozer we now know has been a ghost since the mid 90s, before heading toward the big reveal. The Regent lives and breaths in the north. Please be good, please be good- I’ve built it up and my inebriated colleagues will have lost all tendencies to mercy.

First good news is it exists and I didn’t get us lost. Secondly- its huge- proper 100 year plus Victorian , there is no medium or small option, darkened, big glassed, high ceiling behemoth that those top hatted, coal fire churning ancestors of ours never appreciated bar the end of week pint of stout. It’s a squeeze front of bar purely because there are some long wooden tables chocker with punters and more at the bar making the route to the left flank and upstairs loos a mission, but no dramas. We dive straight into a Peroni though all the premium pouring lagers are on display- alas none of these very special branded glasses but our saviours behind the bar offers to grab some from the upstairs bar- no bother. First tick big tick- good friendly, can-d0 service and nothing a problem. There are also rows of fridges decked out in all the lagers of the world – 190 countries but odds are good they ‘ll have one of them.

A quick look around the left flank reveals an even bigger table, again fully loaded, a fire place , a set of stairs winding to a landing (toilets) followed by another set to the upstairs bar and oft come comedy club/private room. The upstairs mens appears locked but is apparently just stuck. Give it a hard nudge I’m advised and I follow said advice fully expecting to collide with the back of someones head- guaranteed bigger and drunker than mine. I’m in and fortunately not the case, hoping the same door doesn’t collect my head. All around the walls are dosed in various movie quotes and painted icons of the past- Gritty like but pretty cool.

While we mulled over this close relative of The Regent, comparing the family likeness, the doors to the rear beckoned and we headed out for a look. That’s where the family likeness ended. Through the thawing winter dark a garden of megalithic scale turned our gaze 360. Gazebo-like surrounds against the far wall housed a few hardy patrons but the scale left me dreaming of summer and an imminent return.

No time for food on this particular evening as the local curry house was calling. On my Valentines night return however , more sedate and much less intoxicated, I was able to sample the wares. Roasts, burgers and seafood are the keepers but there is plenty more on the standard menu- chicken liver parfait, Spanish meat board, interesting salads, surf and turf, and lamb neck fillet to name a handful. This particular romantic evening we go for the prawn tempura (couldn’t sell her on the oysters) the meat platter and the cheese board all washed down with a few pints of Peroni (again they sought branded on my behalf- sweet diligence). All good quality rustic fare and with enough interest and personality to tempt the session lover or food crusader.

This diligence is something that seems embedded in staff generally across the P&P estate and just goes to show you can’t  go past good old fashioned customer service. I hope you can find one near you, and that this this northerly excursion and the recently opened Mall Tavern in Notting Hill signal a growth in more of its kind.

She ‘s elegant, beautiful, too cool (but hopefully not still going to school) and I shall soon be plying her with shots and sweet nothings before the summer has a chance to stretch its toes. I’m feeling the love

Where: The Stag, 67 Fleet Road, London, NW3 2QU

When: Saturday 13th Feb, 2010 @ 8.00 pm

Stars:

Tel: 020 7722 2646

Website: www.thestaghampstead.com

Menus: Fixed with daily special and seasonal variations

Unpublicised: Phone ahead for beer tastings, comedy nights and music. Go around the world by lager while you’re there.

Interest: The nooks and crannies of Hampstead offer plenty of interesting libation or head up to the Heath

The Queen Adelaide

Queen Adelaide, as the wife of the then King George IV, once acted as counselor, confidante and guide to the young heir apparent Princess Victoria. In 2010 along the Uxbridge Road out of Shepherds Bush two aptly named pubs are themselves elegantly transforming west London’s boozers. Whilst a similar relationship between these two pubs would in most minds be quite the reverse were it to exist at all, the comparison of a brash young Princess Victoria already great but perhaps set for immortality, and the much beloved and respected Adelaide, is readily made.

So enough with the historical anecdotes- lets talk pubs. We are west yet again- yes we’re being very West-centric of late, but I say don’t leave town till you’ve seen the country, and in fairness we’ve already been everywhere, fought the war and now we’re picking through the spoils, so be patient- the best of the rest is on the way. To be totally transparent we can, for now at least, visit loads of great pubs and still get a reasonably priced cab home.

The Queen Adelaide, like the Victoria, is (and was) a stunning Victorian building transformed into a gastro joint replete with dark woods, slouch worthy couches, scatterings of yet more wood in its tables, the requisite lamp shades plunging southward and a decent yet frustratingly unlit fire place that had even Bobby whining at the cold. The lampshade thing seems to be en vogue through most of the pubs we visit but lamp geeks would suggest table-standing versions with more intricate tassels as the way to create a true Victorian parlor/pub feel- but I’m not one of those. The Adelaide has been blessed with two separate visits by Publocation- a Thursday evening and a Saturday afternoon so it got a thorough once over. Put this repetition down to passion or poor time management- I’m saying nothing.

Our first look on the Thursday is hot on the heels of The Princess Victoria, so akin to offering the cat that got the cream a cream egg really, but we can only call it as it is through pinot streaked eyes wedging our carcasses to the bar.Birra Moretti on tap- sensational. Not seen for some time outside of a pizza restaurant so our eyes are widening already – wider even more with horror as the bar tender forgoes branded glasses for bulk standard. Our wide-eyed shock stops him in his tracks- the Moretti glasses are warm he offers up in a firm defence. Good point, well made, now brand me with great haste and don’t spare the super silica heated Italian finery.

The branded glass thing is another point of excellence that we attend to obsess over as you’ve probably gathered and typically it always seems to go wrong on my watch. We understand the rationale in a busy pub but you’re paying for an experience at London prices, not just a pint, and that factor is well and truly part of the package. If they are hard to come by or often thieved from beneath your noses then make sure you have plenty of attractive looking un-monikered (I’m declaring this a word) vessels close at hand- so easy really.

Enough already- the service is relaxed and efficient- no Csaba to spin our heads but solid enough. The bar nicely stocked with premium lagers and bottled offerings and the wine list is strong (to follow). The kitchen itself opens nicely to our left so you can see what the white hats are up to and feel part of the experience, whether you’re at the bar or in the cozy little restaurant area itself. We page through the tasty looking menu despite our sated appetites and as so often is the case place it down with a sigh wishing we could eat everywhere and give you readers the full low down (so unselfish of us) Then again if we could do the Michelin Guide end to end I would sell my soul and throw in a knife sharpener as well, so that rather belies our personal agenda. We are also about to head to the recently revealed off-the-scale Angelsea Arms so you can see our dilemma.

Fortunately we are back for a Saturday afternoon for the opening match of the Six Nations and a very comfortable sport watching pub it is-plenty of interested parties but not enough raucous behavior to detract from a perfect living room couch experience. I happily choose raucous for the really big occasions but am never hugely displeased to find a balance like this. Bobby has expertly secured two comfy leather armchairs at a perfect angle to the big plasma with matching Birra Moretti pints, correctly branded of course. Me? Late again? Rubbish! Pressures of family life I say. As a complete aside I once tried the on time principle steadfastly for a good two months and everyone was always late anyway so I gave up- as Evelyn Waugh once declared-“Punctuality is the virtue of the bored” – hear, hear.

On the bored theme a boring first half of rugger is unfolding, but no mind as I can now turn my attention to the menu- set lunch, dinner and breakfast variations. Looks great without any Blumenthal like freak outs – Pollock, Guinea fowl, aged rib eye, Barbary duck, pork belly are all easy on the pallet. The starters including oysters, prawns and mussels all look good enough to keep the press-gangers at bay for 30 minutes at least. The desserts are all belly warming custard-congealed stodge that make you want to purr. That said this a game of rugby and we’re only here for that so we go for the Angus Beef Burger- sold, moist and tasty with chips thick enough to wedge the pharaohs’ tomb. We push on regardless and as our satisfied hunger warms our hearts so to does a late England victory. The wine list as promised- clearly big fans of the 2007/2008 vintage because it dominates. If new and fresh is your angle then in for a penny in for a pound and there is something from each of the giants in both red and white from Volpe to Tasmania and a cheeky 98 Rioja or 2004 Llande de Pomerol if 2007/08 leaves you huffing and puffing.

Haven’t mentioned standards hygiene-wise to this point as I wanted to do the food review first in case you gagged. Overall within the pub itself no problems, however when I ventured in to the black tiled toilets which looked elegant, stylistic and clean on the surface, sadly the Thomas Crapper had suffered a Pearl Harbour like attack. Heavily damaged, seat hanging askew, with shrapnel everywhere and little or no warning. I’ll blame the inconsiderate punter more than the staff with an air of majestic benevolence in case it was just timing, but word for the wise, if that toilet roster has fallen by the way side. Reinstate.

Can’t possibly end any review on that note- anything that ends with S*** has got to colour anyone’s impressions. The Adelaide is best described to its huge credit as a pub for all seasons- for me the best all rounder of our picks so far. Great food with a choice of restaurant or bar seating, tidy bar and service, a living breathing kitchen, sports watching (rarer and rarer in any decent pubs these days- much like the pool table- another day J another day…), changing lunch and dinner menus, a fabulous looking weekend breakfast menu with eggs done in every possible fashion to go with every breakfast accoutrement known to man, great old building, sympathetic refit and if you’re feeling you’re slumming it, The Princess Victoria three minutes away- what’s not to like?

Little – sit back and enjoy- it’s growing on me.

J

Where: The Queen Adelaide, 412 Uxbridge Road, London W12 0NR

When: 9.00pm Thurs 21st Jan, 2010 and Saturday 6th Feb, 2010

Stars:

Unpublicised: Somewhere classy yet comfortable for the big match- grab a leather armchair and stay for dinner.

Tel: 020 8746 2573

Website: www.thequeenadelaidew12.co.uk

Menus: Lunch, dinner and breakfast variations. Sat & Sun breakfast menu(see website)

Interest: The Princess Victoria on the same road and Westfield Shopping Centre around the corner.

We were talking recently about how we should compare the venues we visit, in particular how we stack up bars against pubs on the same scale.

We felt that bars were more often going to come out on top because of the ludicrous attention to detail they put in but pubs aren’t really about that. However when you compare them point by point (drinks, standards, service etc) more often than not the bars are going to come out on top. Of course there is a quality to a great pub that takes the whole beyond the sum of its parts but this happens in bars too. All said and done, we stopped flapping about it and decided to let the chips fall where they may, resigned to the fact that the bars may well end up the prevalent outlets in the top fifty.

That was before we went to The Anglesea.

The pub sits in a little clump of Georgian (?) terraces the estate agents like to call ‘Brackenbury Village’ alongside Ravenscourt Park in between Hammersmith and Shepherds Bush. To be fair it is quite village-y  as it goes; tree-lined streets, bay windows and wisteria everywhere – very middle claarss, nice if that’s your thing.

In the interests of transparency, I’ve been here quite a few times before as I used to live ten minutes away, it’s long been a fondness of mine and I will admit to being more than a little chuffed when, as it were, the ball came out of the bag. Still, this is all God’s honest.

It’s a genuine local institution this place and there won’t be many of those nearby, no matter where you’re sat reading this. This is down to the fact that it’s one of the oldest gastro pubs going. It harks back to the days not long after pathfinders like the Eagle in Farringdon dragged fine dining, kicking and screaming, out of the restaurant and into the boozer; a path, I’m sure you’ve noticed, very heavily trodden since.

The Anglesea’s always heaving by mid-session, regardless, and you can’t book, but I like that. The menu, a combination of haute cuisine and English classics, is changed twice a day and is consistently excellent. The wine list is superb and extensive and the staff are good. In my book, uncannily good. We always look for effort made when we go out; good service is expected but if someone goes the extra yard it gets noticed.

We were sat at the bar and it was getting on, well past ten (J starts nodding around half-past) and we’d already eaten, but early, so when they were bringing the last plates out we started making oooh noises. I asked, completely on the off-chance, if they were still serving anything; the kitchen had closed some time before but the waitress said she’d ask. She came back and told us that the chef had a couple of goat’s cheese tarts he’d not sold and they were ours if we wanted them. Perfect, two happy customers. As we were tucking in the chef came through for some ice and saw us sat at the bar eating the tarts. He asked if we’d like some Dauphinoise potatoes to go with them and, preceded by eagerly nodding, munching heads, he brought out a giant bowl of perfectly cooked, creamy, cheesy goodness. And get this, they didn’t even charge us. By this time we both had that blokey ‘this place place ticks the boxes’ look on our face (the one with your mouth turned down at the sides) and you can’t do that without nodding a bit too.

Food finished, no mean feat as it turned out, we began chatting with the barman, an Hungarian bloke by the name of Csaba (Chaba). He’d only been working bar for a few months (straight out of IT) but he’d clearly found his calling, nothing was too much trouble, in fact he was itching to help us in any way he could. A rare trait these days and all the more impressive for it.

I’m fairly sure we had a bottle of wine, it may even have been two (I want to say Pinot Noir…) and we definitely had beer. I would have had Whisky. Clearly it’s not crystal but then I’m no memory-boy at the best of times never mind five-pubs-in on Publocation night. I do remember us harping on about how good the drinks were though and I also remember thinking it was only slightly biased by the magical potato incident.

Time was moving on so, fatter and wetter, we bid our hosts farewell and departed with a graceful flourish (for ‘graceful flourish’ read ‘embarrassing stumble over a pile of coats’). It was a fair stroll to the allocated bar for nightcaps, not helped by how much Goldhawk Road sucks for getting a taxi, but we didn’t shut up about the pub all the way there.

Publocation is all about great pubs but The Anglesea Arms is  not just a great pub; although we can’t guarantee everyone will have the same experience, in our opinion it’s one of the best. Great beer, great wine, great food, great atmosphere, great location, great service and buckets of that other thing that makes the best pubs more than just the sum of their parts. Really not bad at all.

I’m all about the bars and it’s a big call, but in all honesty if they carry on like this, the pubs might just take it.

Bobby

Where: The Anglesea Arms, 35 Wingate Road, London, W6 0UR

When: Thurs 28th Jan, 10pm

Unpublicised: Get there early if you want a table, no booking.

Closes: 12am (I think)
Restaurant: Lunch 12.30pm – 3pm
Dinner 6.30pm – 10pm (I’m guessing, there’s no website, but I’m sure it’s two sittings)

Tel: 020 8749 1291

Website: Seriously, no website

Menus: NO. WEBSITE.

Interest: They don’t have a website.

God loves a trier.

Bobby

Many years ago I had a good friend who was very fond of the phrase, ‘if you don’t eat you die’. He was a jovial fat bloke who really loved his food and, rather ironically, he’s dead now. His untimely demise, if perhaps highlighting a flaw in his strategy, in no way lessens the undisputable accuracy of his words and it was with this inspired rhetoric in mind that we dragged our increasingly corpulent frames to Uxbridge Road and the Princess Victoria.

The day had involved rather a lot of traipsing about in Hertfordshire without anything particularly tasty to speak of so, come six thirty when we pitched up at the pub, to say we were feeling peckish doesn’t really do it justice. This was intentional though as we have both been here before, independently of each other (yes, we have lives outside of Publocation, although J’s wife and any number of my exes would in no way agree with that statement) and neither of us could wait to get back.

The pub is a refurbished Victorian gin palace, it wasn’t refurbished directly from the gin palace but we came here before they changed it and let me tell you it wasn’t far off. It’s had a stunning, sympathetic refit, one of the best I’ve seen and it was completed by Matt Wilkin and James Maclean, respectively FOH/sommelier and head chef, both previously at Michelin star level and it shows. Thirty six wines by the glass and a menu straight out of the Michelin guide add a definitive gastro to an unashamedly beautiful pub.

To give you an idea of what we’re talking about the bar snacks include Devon rock oysters, pigs cheeks with gribiche sauce and fresh made-to-order Scotch eggs. I have to admit I didn’t get one of the eggs as we were planning quite a feast as it was but if they’re anything like as good as I want them to be (just warm with a runny yolk in the centre) then I may even push the score up further.

The beer selection is classic; London Pride and Timothy Taylor Landlord plus a guest ale and the usual high-end lagers (Peroni, Staropramen etc). I won’t go into the wine in detail as it’d need a separate blog post of it’s own but suffice to say it’s among the best wine selections of any pub in London.

After much soul-searching we decided we would try to eat something and almost fell over each other scrabbling into the restaurant. The room is again magnificent with two enormous, ornate skylights bathing the room in, well darkness, it was six thirty in mid-January, but in the daytime… you get the picture.  There are huge tables, perfect for larger groups, a real fire (my thoughts on real fires are long-established) and a stunning giant French armoire (what? it might be) acting as a big posh waiter’s station.

I selected a lovely little Montepulciano d’Abruzzo and we kicked off with the pig’s head terrine for me and Gloucester Old Spot, bacon and green peppercorn pâté for the blonde (he hates it when I call him that but this seems all very AA Gill so why not). Both excellent. I followed with roast cod and greens on lentils and J had the confit duck leg. Again marvellous. We skipped on dessert (purely because we were sat in front of the fire already four pints and a bottle of red in; we would have been going nowhere, never mind another four pubs) but the choices were mouth-watering and I’ve no doubt were of the same standard as the rest.

The menu was perhaps a little pork-heavy, suggesting they buy in whole animals and use them nose to tail but I think that’s more of a positive than a negative. I forget exactly how much it came to but for this level it was an absolute bargain and the service didn’t falter for a second.

If I had to be picky there are never quite enough people in the pub to make it buzz but the site is huge and it’s just a little bit far off the beaten track of it’s core market to be a strong local, but on everything other than atmosphere it gets top marks. Factor in the artisan food market in front of the pub every Saturday, wine and cigar (100% Havana in cedar-lined humidors) off sales and a walled herb garden with tables for the summer months and you have a pretty good crack at everything a dining pub should be.

This is a venue more than worth any effort to get to and going on form I hope they do well enough (and have the desire) to open more sites, we’ll certainly be watching very closely for any news of that difficult second pub.

If my old friend were still alive he’d have spent copious amounts of time in the Princess Victoria and more’s the pity, every pub could do with a bit more of that type of jovial bluster.

And it has to be said, if you are going to die eating, you could certainly do it in a worse place than this.

Bobby

Where: The Princess Victoria, 217 Uxbridge Road, London W12 9DH

When: 6.30pm Thurs 21st Jan, 2010

Unpublicised: Come in a group, take a big table in the restaurant and eat heartily.

Closes: The bar is open until midnight every day except Sunday (11pm)
Restaurant: Lunch 12pm – 3pm (Mon – Sat) 12pm – 4.30pm (Sun)
Dinner 6.30pm – 10.30pm (Mon – Sat) 6.30pm – 9.30pm (Sun)

Tel: 020 8749 5886

Website: www.princessvictoria.co.uk

Menus: On the tables

Interest: The pub do organised European motorbike wine tours and have many other special events. If you want to get involved visit the blog.

By Way of Kensal Green to give its full G K Chesterton moniker, but had we in fact stumbled into John Milton’s equally seminal prose?

I have known, drunk and supped at this Kensal institution for a long time and through various incarnations. Not as far back as the coaching house days (mores the pity) but certainly twelve or so of its trendier years. I think I speak with some authority when I say a sensational venue- that’s forgotten to brush its hair this evening.

Publocation as always has forged on regardless of hell, high water or overtly winter conditions- less a rolling road than a sliding one-to kick off the first event of the year. We were looking for a bang and got a very tame pop. This venue has always been a keeper with its stunning architecture and space and has rarely failed to impress. OK its 7.30ish on a school night, not the time to be rating what is a fantastic eatery and/or weekend hot spot (open till 2am), but like most good things in life you can tell a lot by how they perform at the worst of times rather than the best.

So to the bar. We spy a couple of stools at opposing ends and merge them in anticipation of the first cooling ale. Publocation try to mix it up when possible so tonight its two pints from the famous village of Hoegaarden, just because. Any one of said villagers after extolling its coriander and orange peel delight and musing over the secondary fermentation- would insist on a 3-5 degree chill in the famous Hexagonal glass. We received nether of the last two-not even a Belgian moniker just to make it feel more like home and have to say I deserve much better in a four quid beverage.  Grumbling ensues but we are in good spirits and try to justify this lapse, but the lukewarm bottles of Peroni that follow destroy that notion.  Heaven knows what temperatures await on a busy night. The bar staff number three at various times but seem preoccupied with other tasks rather than overt friendliness.

A long traipse to the men’s upstairs reveals a stylie but again standard-lacking convenience with broken tiles and exposed  pipework suggesting a Jason Statham style kicking had ensued earlier. Even if this instance was recent, surely a reassuring sign apologizing for the condition? Again rough around the edges- whats going on? Our customer service experience has disappointed to say the least but Paradise has so much to offer.

The drinks menu bar-wise offers a reasonable selection of bottled beers and ciders, an Italian/Chilean favouring wine list, all the classic cocktails and some decent champagne. The fonts are standard silver and nondescript which is a personal bugbear of mine. I want to see the brand of what I’m buying without squinting in the half-light only to go with the first familiar one out of frustration. Problem is that this “stylistic”, sleeker modus operandi is so dated and naff these days it looks just like the boozer it was once distancing itself from.

The bar food menu (more on that later) offers a tasty looking selection of entrée size offerings including bruschetta, devilled whitebait and Poole harbor rock oysters- plenty to whet the palate. Moving into the modern European enriched restaurant, which I have enjoyed many times before, the range is even better. Grilled swordfish, venison Wellington, and goats cheese pie to fill you up or start with a braised ox tail and macaroni, duck tartar or foie gras to name a selection. The roasts, including the mouth-watering three birds feast, are famous in these parts with good reason. The wine range through to the restaurant  builds quite spectacularly with an uncontrolled variety and vigor. The “extravagant and opulent” reds section could easily open the dustiest of wallets, but if you’re not feeling saucy there is everything in between, from every varietal and every country. I say again- spectacular. More’s the pity we couldn’t dine tonight as previous visits have seen a fantastic bustling vibe with great service and an indescribably warm feeling.

The decor outside serves the stunning exterior well, with a variegated range of wooden tables and chairs that aren’t too eclectic to change the saloon bar vibe. Candles position themselves on every table and provide an eerie backdrop to what is a dark pub in the evenings.  The false wooden bookcase is naff but the clean, rustic look serves it well and somehow warms the dark recesses of the huge high ceilings. A similar feel extends into the restaurant area. Whats even better since the 2007 refurb and launch is that the pub is really used to its potential upstairs and down. It’s like wandering through a grand old family home only its a pub which is something I’ve always longed for (since Bar Abaco in Palma blew my mind) The toilets upstairs are annoying (has to be said) but once you’ve stopped tutting there is a separate bar/stage room for functions and parties as well as the opportunity to spill out on to the roof terrace on a golden summers eve. The courtyard area below serves the same purpose in summer, and a full Paradise on such a night is indeed a treat.

I also learn Comedy Wednesdays are to return and along with Swing Thursday (no not that kind of swing), and many other variety shows, raves and eclectic music to come, the Paradise is clearly making use of its copious space.

Postscript- I came back again. Yes my tardiness over the last 12 days has forced me to abandon family life and get this review out before its relevance wanes,and hey, it just got more relevant. It’s a Monday so things could be worse, but on the contrary, service is friendly, smile filled and prompt. The only delays are due to vigorous cleaning which is always good on the standards front and certainly how a quieter night might be filled by quality staff. The two pints of Kronenburg are cold and crisp- bravo! I also get to try the bar food but my appetite allows only chicken skewers and hand cut chips- both delicious. . As I sign off the updated review in a neat little alcove on the right, I feel Paradise has once again been found and honour restored.

Just keep that brush in the handbag and I’ll bring my five stars.

Where: 19 Kilburn Lane, Kensal Green, London, W10 4AE
When: Wednesday 6th January 2009, 7.30pm (oh and Monday 18th about 8pm)
UnPublicised:
Get a table and comfy chair in the alcove to the right as you enter. In summer get up on the roof with a litre of Posh Punch. Either way get yourself booked into the restaurant and as soon as you’re tiddly, treat yourself to something gamey and an expensive bottle of red. If its vim and vigor you need then get there late any Friday or Saturday and get amongst it.
Tel: 020 8969 0098
Website: www.theparadise.co.uk
Menus: A La Carte, brunch, Sunday and week day. See website
Interest: The Regent 5 seconds away- another 4.5 star rated pub. Why leave the lane?

[googleMap directions_to="false"]1 regent street, london nw10[/googleMap]

There are many times when we go out for a drink that every bar is full. Every table taken, every stool sat on and everyone is loud and happy (except the inevitable couple outside ‘having a barney’, but that’s a given). This environment is what we think of as ‘the pub’; bustle, laughter, loud voices and queuing at the bar. It’s a generic shared memory we all have and it’s what most of us picture when some one says ‘we’re going out for a drink tonight’.

There are also times when we go out for a drink that this is not the case. There are mid-week evenings in January when it’s minus three with an angry wind and solid, lumpy, kneecap-threatening ice underfoot. These evenings are not bustling and loud, the hardy souls who muster up the wherewithall to leave the house and get amongst it (ahem) are few and far between and the pubs and bars take on an entirely different perspective.

If you’re thinking I’m that I’m suggesting the quieter nights are not up to much, nothing could be farther from the truth. Not everyone will agree I’m sure but we think occasionally having a pub to yourselves is a great thing. It’s all about the company really and for as much as we rigorously judge every minute spent in bars, it’s done retrospectively, the actual reason any of this exists is just to get us out to more bars more often. The better the company the less it matters. That said if the place is, for want of a better word, shite, without the atmosphere to carry it through, you can come away cursing a blood oath through gritted teeth never to darken it’s festering door again.

Which rather neatly brings us to The Abingdon.

The scene is as mentioned above, Kensington is the set of 28 Days Later, it’s brass monkeys and the boys, offensively sober at this point, are wobbling down an icy High Street Ken like Bambi in stilettos. The evening is an official Publocator’s birthday, much like the Queen we have two, the actual day and the corresponding Publocation night out. You might say then everyone sometimes has two if you count the parties but the official Publocation birthday night is on top of that. Like I said: more bars more often. Tonight the Abingdon is number two of five.

Attractive pub The Abingdon, it’s all white and sits at the corner of two Georgian terraces (I always say ‘Georgian’, I have no idea really), there’s usually a couple of little bistro tables outside but not tonight, not sure why. The main market is dinner and wine and in a rather Kensington way the website calls the place a ‘restaurant and bar’ but calling it something else doesn’t change what it is. It’s a pub with a makeover. But, whatever label we give it, it’s got a great bar for sitting at and, lo and behold, stools are available.

I was starving having spent a futile day trying to spend money in Westfield with nothing more than a bowl of (rather tasty) Vietnamese soup to keep me going so I went straight for the menu. It turned out to be the wine list so, as wine is their thing, I shouted up a bottle of Kim Crawford Pinot Noir and promptly forgot about my belly. The wine was great, something we can’t really give the pub all the credit for, however the glasses were sparkling and the chap doing the pouring was quick and attentive. Given the punter/staff ratio was about 2:1 I should think so too.

I’d forgotten about my belly but it certainly hadn’t forgotten about me so when it protested again we decided to make the most; Fois Gras and chicken liver parfait with not enough brioche was delicious, the duck pancakes were expensive (£14 for 2) but excellent and the skinny chips hot and crisp. There were other things which escape my memory but certainly nothing weak enough to detract from the overall experience. I had a great steak frites here before now and I’m happy to say the standards don’t seem to have dropped.

In the depths of winter, sitting on bar stools in a toasty pub with full bellies and well-made drinks in hand is a very pleasant experience indeed, the weather brings out the blitz spirit, the banter is in full swing and with the venue running smoothly it creates a very particular type of evening, memorable for all the right reasons, that just doesn’t happen all that often. The Kim Crawford soon bottomed out and the weather, clearly having stirred my Scottish ancestry, drew me toward the Whisky.  If you ever catch me out and about and you want to send a drink over (alright, no need to laugh) go for Whisky and soda, it’s my favourite mixer and more importantly there’s little chance of it being ruined by poor drinksmanship. A handful of said Whiskys in an all-too-short space of time and we were making for the door, nothing to do with the pub, we just had other places to get to.

Stepping out I had become strangely oblivious to the cold which may have had something to do with the festivities, particularly seeing as though I went down like a sack of spuds about three feet from the door (I was like that fat bird on the ‘injured at work?’ ad who belts her knee on the wet floor, it makes me wince every time I think about it. I’m now pointlessly holding my knee and typing with one hand). Unfazed and suffering in silence (ahem) I soldiered on with a steely determination, slightly saddened by the knowledge that it would probably be quite some time before that particular kind of pub visit happened again.

The Abingdon is a very well-kept place, the food is good to great, the wine well chosen and the environment well worth the visit, even if you’re the only ones in there.

Particularly if you’re the only ones in there.

Bobby

Where: The Abingdon, 54 Abingdon Road, London W8

When: 8.30pm Wed 6th Jan, 2010

Unpublicised: Sit at the bar or reserve a booth. Eat food. Drink wine.

Closes: Lunch 12.30pm – 2.30pm (Mon – Fri) 12.30pm – 3.00pm (Sat & Sun)  Dinner 6.30pm – 10.30pm (Mon) 6.30pm – 11.00pm (Tues – Sat) 7.00pm – 10.00pm (Sunday)

Tel: 020 7937 3339

Website: http://www.theabingdonrestaurant.com/

Menus: On the website

Interest: It’s owned by two blokes and a woman. Well that’s what it looks like from the photos on the website.