London Pubs
The Dog and Duck, Soho
According to Wikipedia, a summary of the “pub” or “public house” is an establishment open to the public which serves alcoholic drinks for consumption on the premises. A pretty bland and non-descriptive interpretation. My account of the pub is “a very loud place to meet friends, spill drinks, watch football and eat food that doesn’t exactly satisfy you, but fills you up so you can have/spill more drinks.
Pub culture is huge in the UK, especially in London. A normal excuse for going to the pub goes somewhat like this: It’s Friday, it’s been a long day at work and I want to meet some friends and go to the pub round the corner. Before lockdown this was the constant thought in my head every single Friday. Been a long day? – Definitely time to go to the pub. Been a good day? – Would be great to celebrate at the pub. Colleagues going out for a cheeky drink after work? – Pub.
Socialising in London is centred around drinking at pubs which is actually very similar to the Irani Café culture in India but also distinctly different to the way things work there too. Whenever I am in Mumbai/Pune, meeting friends tends to be centred around eating so rather than “let’s meet at the pub” it’s always “let’s go and have some kheema pav around Shivaji Park, or “yaar I’ve had dinner but let’s go and have some more dinner somewhere in Koregaon Park”. The rare time I do head out for drinks with people in India, it always somehow turns into a seven-course meal somewhere or a full-blown club followed by six plates of momos afterwards. And then I wonder why I put on so much weight whenever I am in India.
I’m at a point now where I prefer to chow down on a Tesco’s meal deal before going to the pub to spend the rest of the evening having drinks with friends, it’s a culture you get used to when you work in London. But it wasn’t always that way, in fact I used to loathe the idea of sitting in a small wooden house with football blaring on a small screen and surrounded by mainly overweight locals. Technically you are allowed in a pub from the age of 16, but because I was a good Maharashtrian kid, I spent most of my teens at home studying. My first introduction to the pub was at university, on a “pub crawl” (a pub crawl is when people hop from one pub to another and end up crawling home. I assume that’s why it’s called pub crawl and not pub tour); unfortunately, it wasn’t in London, and I went to a local pub close to campus with a few friends. My first thought can be summarised in 3 words: “what a shithole”.
First Impressions
This pub had a sort of decaying wooden look to it, if you can picture a quaint little English cottage, get that idea out of your head. It was more like a dingy wooden box with an even more hideous carpet, the kind of carpet you see in old age homes or at the homes of people who own hairy pets. In this pub (and almost all pubs) there was also a fruit machine or a “slot machine” which looks like a fully automatic washing machine with lights, but almost always does not work. The cleanest area of the pub was the bar area, but this was cancelled out by the oozing stench coming from the toilets – a dry kind of waft that started to make me nauseous. I also felt a slight sense of fear and intimidation because like many basic pubs it was full of white people. Not normal white people. I mean white people with six stomachs, skin heads and lots of arm tattoos. In fact, the first scene I laid my eyes on when walking into this pub was a white middle-aged man sitting on a stool by the bar with his gigantic bum cleavage heaving out of his ill-fitting jeans. A beautiful site. But not one I would care to see again.
It’s a funny thing having lived in the UK for so long, yet still feeling intimidated walking into a room full of white people; because I still feel them stare at me, especially if I am the only coloured person there. It makes sense really, because it’s not a very Indian thing. Indians don’t “pop down for a pint at the pub”, Indians crack open bottles of whisky at home and serve it with chewda not salt & vinegar flavoured crisps. I have to admit even I stare at my fellow kin if I see them walk into a pub, almost thinking to myself “what on earth are we doing here.”
The good thing about London is that you don’t normally feel this way walking into a pub, because there are so many different types of people. So you’ll find all sorts of people in pubs, and thankfully not as many bum cleavages on show.
The Drinks
Pubs are about beers. And people chug a crazy amount of it at the pub. Typically any beer/ale is served in a pint which is pretty worrying since I would never usually consume a pint of anything. I mean, realistically would you drink a pint of sol kadi or taak? Ok maybe a pint of taak, but any more than that and you’d pass out from the sheer volume of liquid. This is one of the many marvels of pub-goers, they are able to drink pint after pint of beer and feel totally fine. I tried it once a few years ago, I decided to avoid going for the usual gin and tonic, and instead went for a pint of “blue moon” – a sweetish beer served with a slice of orange floating on top.
The smell alone made me dizzy, beer has that distinct smell where it isn’t as strong as vodka but it gives you a queasy feeling (just like karla). Looking at my peers I realised that you are supposed to have huge sips of the stuff rather than delicately mull over it for 30 minutes.
Going into full show-off mode I decided to do things like them and started gulping it down like I had been drinking it my entire life. Three-quarters of the glass later and I found myself burping like a giant wild boar, so I quietly switched back to gin. That’s the problem with beer, it makes you burp. And the burping doesn’t stop after a few minutes, it seems to continue for the next few hours. So, I decided then and there that I would never drink beer again. And I am happy with that decision.
Another drink people tend to have at pubs is Guinness, which looks like a glass of frothy Bournvita but please hear me when I say this, It. Is. Not. In fact, Guinness isn’t even a beer, it’s an Irish Stout, and tastes something like a bitter almost coffee-ish beer. But a little better than beer. In fact, if you love strong flavours its best to go for this over beer.
Again, the issue we have here is people don’t serve anything less than half a pint of the stuff, even half a pint just sounds too large a volume in my head. Always ask yourself the question, would you down half a pint of varan? No. So if you aren’t used to Guinness then go easy, you are not one of the Peaky Blinders.
Cocktails are not a staple pub drink, unless you are in a fancy pub/bistro but technically this wouldn’t be considered a pub. I would never walk into a pub and ask for a strawberry daquiri, it just wouldn’t make any sense. The safest (I say safest) drink I stick to is a gin and tonic. This drink never fails and comes under the vanilla ice-cream concept. The vanilla ice-cream concept applies to things that aren’t exactly the best, but they are always guaranteed to never disappoint you. Other things that fall under this category is a chicken sandwich, thup meeth bhaat, and actual vanilla ice-cream. The gin and tonic also looks like water which reassures you that you are not an alcoholic. Stick to gin and tonic.
Finally, we have wine. Now, really wine connoisseurs will Never drink wine in a pub. It’s like wearing a three-piece suit to a swimming lesson, wine doesn’t really have any place in a pub but again, it’s a good way to look classy while having a drink. Pubs tend to serve crap wine, it’s a fact but it’s also an accepted fact. Rather than smooth burgundies we have the “house white” which they say is a sauvignon blanc or a chardonnay but also tastes distinctly similar to a £5 Lambrini from Sainsbury’s.
Pub Food
People don’t go to the pub to eat. They go to the pub to get rip-roaring drunk so in all honestly, food doesn’t have any place in a pub. But nevertheless, there are definitely some pub staples that I even take a fancy to. Only sometimes.
The Scotch Egg is one of those more tastier pub snacks – a hard-boiled egg covered with a thick layer of sausage meat, smothered in bread crumbs and deep fried.
Almost like those bright orange Sri-Lankan mutton roles (just with a random egg in it too). It’s delicious. If you like eggs, sausages and anything deep-fried then you will like this. The only issue with these is that they aren’t very filling and you can’t really sit there and have five scotch eggs, unless you want to literally coat your mouth in oil. To be totally honest I’ve never really seen another person order any, but they are definitely there on the menus.
Chips. Ugh. Chips are the worst invention of the universe. For some reason Americans call them “French-fries” but then again Americans also think football is soccer so just stick to ordering chips in a London Pub. I don’t think these need any explanation but just for the hell of it, I would describe chips as fried 3D rectangles full of squishy air. They either have no seasoning or they are drowned in salt, vinegar and cheap tomato ketchup. No real taste, nothing that titillates the sense, they’re like furniture, they’re just there. Existing. But the great thing about chips is they are very filling. You know that worrying feeling in your body when you have drunk on an empty stomach? Yea, just get up (very slowly) and order chips. Like a parachute, the potato molecules magically expand in your stomach soaking up all traces of ethanol and give you a new lease of life. In fact, just have an emergency plate of chips with you at all times at a pub, in case things get a little out of hand.
Pork Scratchings. Yes, it’s not a joke, pork scratchings are a hardcore pub-goer snack. And no, they aren’t just bits of pig toenail in a bag, they are actually tastier than they sound.
Pork scratchings are one of those things you shouldn’t judge before you eat. Kind of like the same way most of us feared broccoli when we were little. Those monstrous miniature trees were the stuff of nightmares, but after a few years you realise they aren’t that bad. Although I do admit, pork scratchings definitely need a better name to market themselves to people outside the UK e.g., beautiful pigs or crispy piggies.
I hope some of you have guessed it by now, pork scratchings are essentially just pieces of fried pig skin. Like the uglier version of bacon but weirdly enough they taste delicious. The only issue with pork scratching is that you may come across the odd piece that could potentially break your teeth. So aajis and ajobas unfortunately this one may not be for you. In fact, it is likely not for anybody so please forget this whole paragraph.
Fish and Chips. Ah yes, the glorified and frankly overrated version of a fish and a potato. Some people like it, some people don’t. I am one of those people who will walk out in tears if I am served this dish.
You will find a lot of Indian tourists come to the UK and want to try this “signature dish”. Those people are weird. Imagine a fish. Now cover that fish in oily batter. Place that crunchy fish on plate with bits of potato. Add a fist-shaped splotch of mushy peas on the side. This my friends, is fish and chips. No matter how good the pub is, fish and chips will never be more than fish and chips. You could be dining at the Ritz in Green Park but the fish and chips will taste no different to the pub version. Do yourself a favour and avoid this frightening dish.
Pie & Mash is by far the nicest dish I have ever had at a pub. I have been a staunch mashed potato advocate for a long time;
something so simple yet so delicious (just like dahi bhaat). In fact things got quite bad when I started eating bowls of mash every other day but I have tamed my ways now. Pie isn’t typically the first thing people think of when they think of English cuisine, but if you go to the right place, you’ll find the chicken and mushroom pie absolutely sublime. Crispy, golden pastry hiding a heaped helping of chickeny, mushroomy yumminess, unless you just hate fun, you won’t be disappointed by this dish. Ever. In fact, if pub dishes were humans, then Pie & Mash would be Mahesh Manjrekar and Fish and Chips would be Shrek. There. That puts it into perspective.
The Spaniards Inn, Hampstead
The thing about pubs however, is not to eat. Nobody goes to a pub to eat. Would you go to a party to have a nap? No. It’s the same concept really, and it emphasises the stark contrast in the way people enjoy drinking in the UK versus India. People in India prefer to drink first and then eat at 11pm, I don’t know how they do it but in a way it’s…wiser? Whereas half-way around the globe in London people tend to have a quick sandwich before 6pm, start drinking and get so obliterated they lose their house keys, spill things and tell their friends how special they are for the rest of the night. Followed by the hangover from hell. In that sense, Indians really are very mature.
In Indian areas of London there does seem to be a very steady increase of “Indian Pubs”, yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. A pub that looks like a pub but is in fact a hangout for Indian kakas in leather jackets. Rather than having quiet pub music in the background, there are Bollywood songs, normally some Kumar Sanu track gurgling in the background. Instead of scotch eggs the kitchen serves shami kebabs and alarmingly red chicken tikka platters. The problem with Indian pubs however, is that they have now transformed into a normal Indian person’s house. Which is great don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely more welcoming and the food tastes great. But if you want a true pub experience, it’s best to avoid these. In fact, just travel outside of Wembley if you want to find a pub that isn’t a Patel hotspot.
The Dickens Inn, St Katharine Docks
Writing all of these things makes me truly miss the camaraderie of pub culture after work in Central London. I can’t image after this pandemic that people will ever be comfortable squeezing into pubs, pouring out into the pub gardens, clinking pints together, and laughing over chips. All the criticism aside, pubs bring people together, all types of people. I could walk into a London pub in anything from my nauvari sari to my pyjamas and still feel a warm fuzzy welcome. The drinking itself makes all Londoners sound like actual alcoholics but more than the drinking it’s about having a safe space where people are expected to cut lose. Now we are all in a position where a drink down at the pub has descended into a coffee over a zoom call. There aren’t any drunken hugs or beery belches. Sometimes it gets so bad I actually start to miss the waft from the pub toilets. It gets so bad I start to dream about fish and chips…then I wake up in tears because that dream turned out to be a nightmare.
Dirty Dicks, Liverpool Street
A trip to London always warrants a visit to the pub. If not for the drinking experience then at least for a few pictures. While some pubs do look worryingly unstable and have grim interior, a lot of pubs particularly in Central London are gorgeous. Just be prepared to get used to the names, I don’t know why but they have the strangest names ranging from “The Blind Beggar” to “Dirty Dicks” (which is actually a really nice pub in Liverpool Street).
Ye Olde Mitre, Holborn
I nearly lost my mind when I found there was a pub called “Ye Olde Mitre”; I really thought for a second that I had found a Maharashtrian pub. Now that, would be the thing of dreams, but I would probably give it a better name. Something like “The Puran Poli Arms” or “The Blind Modak.” I think we’ll leave the business planning for this to the side though for now. In the meantime, pork scratching anyone?
