Previous Issue
Issue 30

Five ideas for the podcast you’ll never start
Five compelling, scalable, off-the-shelf concepts for anyone convinced the world needs another podcast about comedians, masculinity or James O’Brien.

The Public House Group has just this week opened The Horses in Clerkenwell, a spot the FT quite rightly described as “London’s most keenly awaited new pub.” The excitement around the opening has reminded me just how much the group has informed what a modern, metropolitan pub might be today — somewhere with proper food, a singular aesthetic, but still the feel of a genuine boozer. Here are five more London pubs that have changed London pubs.
‘Gastropub’ was a hateful phrase long before The Marksman was opened by St John alumni Tom Harris and Jon Rotheram in 2015 — those restaurants masquerading as boozers, as Jay Rayner put it, like “public school boys in artfully distressed Doc Martens.” The Marksman’s beauty, however, was that the pub bit was just as good as the food bit, and both were (and are) truly excellent. Within two years of opening, The Marksman became the first London pub to win Michelin’s ‘Pub of the Year’, and has spawned dozens and dozens of imitators in the decade since.

Everyone knows that The Plimsoll does the best cheeseburger in London — that excellent, gherkiny, soft-bunned ‘Dexter’ burger, first developed by Jamie Allan and Ed McIlroy at their ‘Four Legs’ pop-up at the Compton Arms. But perhaps even better than the food at the Plimsoll is the mood of the place, which, like any properly good neighbourhood pub, is friendly, singular, and lovably off-kilter.

As I wrote in this newsletter before: “the waiting list for The Surprise's coveted outdoor benches are said to rival those at Eton, or whichever other schools exist.” The Surprise, of course, has stood on that handsome, sun-soaked corner site since 1850, but only came into its own in the modern day after Jack Greenall and Wren pubs took it over during the pandemic. The food is excellent and the decor is exquisite, reminiscent of the stately galleon which it was named after. But what is really interesting is how it has evolved into something of a status pub while still remaining a reliable, truly welcoming local spot.

The Public House boys stumbled into the public house game during lockdown, when an old, lovely, overlooked pub site behind the Portobello road suddenly became available for a bargain. They thought they might as well give it a go, and stripped the corner pub — with its beautifully high ceilings and vast windows — down to a sort of rugged minimalism that has been the signature of their style ever since: a riot of blonde woods, smoky fires, caramel chore coats, and butcher’s mirrors. The only splash of colour came from the Colman’s mustard pot atop each table, and the look seemed, from the opening day, to perfectly compliment the food — mince on toast, gamey pies, and rich onglet steaks.

Has The Devonshire cannily surfed the recent wave of Guinness fanaticism, or helped cause it? It’s possibly a bit of both. But what Oisin Rogers and co have proven is that an establishment can be a monstrous commercial hit while also having heart, character, and quality. (Tell that to Jamie Oliver, who’s tired site the Devonshire took over here in 2023). The pub’s trick is to welcome all sorts over its broiling four storeys: from the type of anoraked beer snob who talks in hushed tones about percentages of dispensing gas, to a couple celebrating a 50th wedding anniversary, and a tourist looking for a packet of crisps and a Coke Zero. When people talk idly of pubs being our trattorias, our brasseries, it is probably the likes of The Devonshire they have in mind.

Previous Issue
Issue 30

Five compelling, scalable, off-the-shelf concepts for anyone convinced the world needs another podcast about comedians, masculinity or James O’Brien.
Don't miss next week
Get The Friday Five and the week's best stories straight to your inbox.

The Public House Group has just this week opened The Horses in Clerkenwell, a spot the FT quite rightly described as “London’s most keenly awaited new pub.” The excitement around the opening has reminded me just how much the group has informed what a modern, metropolitan pub might be today — somewhere with proper food, a singular aesthetic, but still the feel of a genuine boozer. Here are five more London pubs that have changed London pubs.
‘Gastropub’ was a hateful phrase long before The Marksman was opened by St John alumni Tom Harris and Jon Rotheram in 2015 — those restaurants masquerading as boozers, as Jay Rayner put it, like “public school boys in artfully distressed Doc Martens.” The Marksman’s beauty, however, was that the pub bit was just as good as the food bit, and both were (and are) truly excellent. Within two years of opening, The Marksman became the first London pub to win Michelin’s ‘Pub of the Year’, and has spawned dozens and dozens of imitators in the decade since.

Everyone knows that The Plimsoll does the best cheeseburger in London — that excellent, gherkiny, soft-bunned ‘Dexter’ burger, first developed by Jamie Allan and Ed McIlroy at their ‘Four Legs’ pop-up at the Compton Arms. But perhaps even better than the food at the Plimsoll is the mood of the place, which, like any properly good neighbourhood pub, is friendly, singular, and lovably off-kilter.

As I wrote in this newsletter before: “the waiting list for The Surprise's coveted outdoor benches are said to rival those at Eton, or whichever other schools exist.” The Surprise, of course, has stood on that handsome, sun-soaked corner site since 1850, but only came into its own in the modern day after Jack Greenall and Wren pubs took it over during the pandemic. The food is excellent and the decor is exquisite, reminiscent of the stately galleon which it was named after. But what is really interesting is how it has evolved into something of a status pub while still remaining a reliable, truly welcoming local spot.

The Public House boys stumbled into the public house game during lockdown, when an old, lovely, overlooked pub site behind the Portobello road suddenly became available for a bargain. They thought they might as well give it a go, and stripped the corner pub — with its beautifully high ceilings and vast windows — down to a sort of rugged minimalism that has been the signature of their style ever since: a riot of blonde woods, smoky fires, caramel chore coats, and butcher’s mirrors. The only splash of colour came from the Colman’s mustard pot atop each table, and the look seemed, from the opening day, to perfectly compliment the food — mince on toast, gamey pies, and rich onglet steaks.

Has The Devonshire cannily surfed the recent wave of Guinness fanaticism, or helped cause it? It’s possibly a bit of both. But what Oisin Rogers and co have proven is that an establishment can be a monstrous commercial hit while also having heart, character, and quality. (Tell that to Jamie Oliver, who’s tired site the Devonshire took over here in 2023). The pub’s trick is to welcome all sorts over its broiling four storeys: from the type of anoraked beer snob who talks in hushed tones about percentages of dispensing gas, to a couple celebrating a 50th wedding anniversary, and a tourist looking for a packet of crisps and a Coke Zero. When people talk idly of pubs being our trattorias, our brasseries, it is probably the likes of The Devonshire they have in mind.

Previous Issue
Issue 30

Five compelling, scalable, off-the-shelf concepts for anyone convinced the world needs another podcast about comedians, masculinity or James O’Brien.
Don't miss next week
Get The Friday Five and the week's best stories straight to your inbox.