White Hart

The conviviality seeped through the wraparound windows on approach to this solid backstreet pub, a single-room Edwardian rebuild among Dickensian workers' terraces. Drinking in the precincts of the great stations is often a desperate act of necessity, rather than a choice, but it's nice to find such a homely place so close to Waterloo. The pub's sparse, traditional countenance is welcome in an age of OTT gastro makeovers.

It's big on real ales and good beer, although the descriptions on the list go a bit far. Fancy a pint that displays 'a full malt character with a balanced, clean and hoppy bitterness'? One Foster's coming up. But apart from the amber nectar, quality appears in the shape of ciders, three real ales (the likes of Doom Bar and Sambrook's), and Continental kegs (Kozel and Erdinger, to name two).

As well as modern pub standards - fish and chips, burger - the food menu offers more adventurous options, including crab, samphire and squash salad, and 21-day-old ribeye steak. Did the carcass of the unfortunate yet well-bred beast spend 21 days strung up in a cold store to then languish two minutes longer than it should have on a hot grill? Our steak was overcooked well past the requested rare.

It seemed the chef was trying to distract us with massive portions. With the beef came a pile of chips and ten grilled cherry tomatoes. Another main of baked squash with couscous and artichokes with beetroot and white wine sauce was discordant - but there was loads of it. Generosity should extend beyond portion size to provision of quality, and this was sadly a bit lacking.

So go for the fine drinks and the merry chatter; try it on a Sunday, when I imagine it would be a great spot for an afternoon's lounging.