Hot Dog in the Ring, whoa whoa oh... - AUG 2013

It's a set up that would have Mr Humphries from 'Are You Being Served' spinning and jerking in his grave. Slightly getting in the way of one of the more satisfying pub snacks i've had recently, was a night filled with more euphemism and double entendre than you can shake a big pink stick at.

To start, the pub is called The Ring (steady...) home of, allegedly, the first boxing ring in the Capital. Thankfully for the suits of Southwark, the safely renovated little corner boozer opposite the tube station is no longer a hot bed of pugilism, but a reasonably funky chain pub Farrow and Ball'ed to the nines and only let down only by its generic beer choices.

Rather than focussing on the usual pub grub favourites, they've kept things beautifully simple here, with a kitchen takeover featuring street food legends Big Apple Hot Dogs. Other than a few snacks and sides, you're limited to long boiled links inna bun. It's not subtle, diet (or vegetarian) friendly but seriously.. What's not to like about that? If they go with fizzy wine over at Fitzrovia's BubbleDogs, they go even better with fizzy lager.

We were served the most beautifully judged Big Apple hot dogs in a run through their range. We did the 'Big Frank' (the clue's in the name) and couldn't resist the 'Huge Pole' (pfnarr!), a full 'eight inches' (coooorrr!) of 'magnificent pork and beef' (wayhey! snooort...) frankfurter smothered in a mild but flavoursome chilli, warm enough to make its point, mild enough to let the flavours of the sausage flood through (ahem.. enough). There's only so much you can do with a hot dog, and for me it needs to be kept as simple as possible. Sides were just that, chips and well cooked onion rings, the latter more a sight gag - especially after five pints of yer finest Continental lager.

Is it an 'experience'? Some hip new place to queue for dude food? Not in the slightest. It's just a decent local pub within spitting distance of Waterloo station serving great bar food. And that's enough for me.
  

 
The Ring - 72 Blackfriars Road, Southwark 

The Sun in Camberwell - Resurected for the summer - AUG 2013

Pubs are difficult things... The Camberwellians among you may remember the kerfuffle when the previous management team were unceremoniously dumped out of the Sun and Doves as was. They fought the tied pub co. and (unsurprisingly) the tied pub co. won.

It was a decent enough boozer, with community outreach aspirations, generic beers, fairly unforgettable grub and a regular film night. The medics from the local hospital who occupied it were friendly enough as long as you didn't try and compete in the hardest quiz night in the area.

When the previous management were finally (and brutally) removed, they stripped all of 'their' renovations out with them; fixtures, fittings, wall coverings and bar kit. Looking at the reopened bar, the new tenants have done a pretty good job of, well, leaving it in exactly the same condition. The decor and furniture takes stripped back shabby chic to a new level, this one barely one step up from squat party. As Camberwell is the new wherever achingly hip we're supposed to be, they've pitched it perfectly.

The beer and wine choices are as pedestrian as before, but the menu has been given a spruce. Loosely defined as the kind of gutsy, hearty pub fare you've seen bothering a thousand kilner jars on a thousand wooden chopping boards before.

A muted quinoa and roast vegetable salad was undoubtedly healthy, but as beige a dish in all senses of the word as you could find. As quiet as an unpopular 20 year old's house party and as instantly forgettable.
  

 
The lack of oomph sadly extended to a woefully under-powered bavette steak, its normally rich and meaty tang entirely missing in action. It was such an under seasoned tasteless piece of meat that it was virtually eclipsed by its side of cold and over cooked chips, god knows what would have happened if it had come with anything as flavoursome as a Bearnaise...

The thought is definitely there, burgers and sandwiches are perfectly acceptable and generally it's a fine looking classic pub menu, but it doesn't live up to the promise, which is a shame. That being said, it's a pub, not a restaurant, so if you're looking for a quick bite alongside a couple of drinks with friends then take advantage of their lovely beer garden, an excellent selection of tunes and remind yourself that it's who you're with that really matters.

 

When you wish a pie would satisfy - The Bree Louise - Dec 2012

As far as quality boozers serving food in the vicinity of Euston, there's not much competition. So wailing on a real ale pub serving fresh, home made food (probably for miles) feels a little harsh, like doing a Simon Cowell routine after a kid's carol service. But, in the interests of integrity...

The Bree Louise sits on one of those windblown residential side streets that exist adjacent to every hub train station in the Western world, where the patina of train grime is smeared across the windows like a derisory smear of margarine on a First Great Western ham sandwich. 

Despite the unwelcoming approach and the initial, unstructured look, the overly bright, overly heated single room isn't the sort of itinerants' boozer of last resort, filled with dealers, hooligans and the odd poor sod who missed the 5:15 to Leighton Buzzard. It's actually much better (or worse) than that. The Bree Louise is one of those 'proper' pubs. The kind of pubs where men have beards, toilet facilities are 'functional' and it's acceptable to order a half of NoseSplitter or Noggin's Best before comparing fisherman's knit or World of Warcraft anecdotes with your closest (male) friends. For the Bree Louise is a CAMRA pub...

Now don't get me wrong, I love a real ale as much as the next man, but there's something about the nerdier than thou that can emanate from the REAL ale drinker that winds me up. It's the same sort of aggressive apologist behaviour that attaches itself to train spotters, obscure indie music fans and Evertonians. A 'get the digs in now, but we know we're right', folded arms attitude that occasionally makes for a very closed shop. 

Thankfully, as well as 'Award Winning' ales, ciders and perrys (and a couple of lagers), they also serve a range of 'Award Winning' pies (and obviously feature as an 'Award Winning' pub in a guide book somewhere, given the number of confused tourists wandering through…) 

Less thankfully, with the exception of an off-piste haggis effort, the pies we had were fairly sloppily constructed, with that deeply unappealing pub habit of slopping an inch or so of pre-prepared casserole into the bottom of an earthenware bowl before covering it with a frozen puff pastry shell and reheating to order. The cider sauce was far too thin, if well enough flavoured, but there were just four small sad beige chunks of pork floating around in it, several inches below the carapace, like turds trapped under a swimming pool cover. 

I suppose for £8 a pop, it's difficult to complain too vociferously about the food, but it didn't do it for me at all. The pub is recommended if you genuinely have missed the 5:15 to Leighton Buzzard and can't face the Weatherspoons*, or need to regale chums with your latest live roleplaying anecdotes over a pint of Old Badger, less so for anything else.

* Let me make this absolutely clear. The Bree Louise is a HUGE improvement over the Weatherspo'Neill-style sticky floored hellholes you normally find near stations. It's just that isn't saying much...