The most-loved bars and pubs in London

Want to feel like you’re in Paris (when you’re actually in Waterloo)? Lower Wine Bar is here for you. Opened in 2024, Lower rolls out onto one of our favourite streets in the city - the resolutely old-school Lower Marsh - and offers wines by the glass and bottle, as well as providing a bottleshop take-out service. All your most in-demand wines are on offer, from chilled reds to pet-nats. There’s also a small blackboard food menu to power you through the list. Lovely stuff. Time Out tip Lower Marsh is also home to the excellent Maries, a tiny caff that by day is a full-on greasy spoon serving gut-busting fry-ups, but by night is an informal Thai restaurant packed with nattering cabbies and spice-loving locals scoffing authentic food at bargai prices – think chicken satay, sum tum salad, stir-fries, the aforementioned curries, noodles and desserts such as banana fritters. Find it at 90 Lower Marsh, SE1 7AB.

It might look like a classic London pub from the outside, all Britain in Bloom-worthy hanging baskets and an extremely pub-like name picked out in gold lettering, but the Camberwell Arms is not a place to watch the footie or sink eight pints and waddle home semi-conscious (maybe try the Hermits Cave across the road for such tomfoolery). Locals have known this for the past decade, ever since the grand Victorian boozer was given a serious sprucing up in 2014 under the auspices of chef director Mike Davies. Mike had form; starting out at one of south London’s original gastropubs, the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo, before setting up another south London institution, the much-loved hipster HQ that is Frank’s rooftop bar in Peckham.  ‘Sublime’ doesn’t even begin to do it justice. It is nothing less than art Since then, the Camberwell Arms has remained the very picture of modesty. Settle into the spacious back room, an airy but still-intimate space, and the lack of fanfare (stripped wooden floorboards and the occasional stylish print is about as close to grandiose design as it gets here) only goes to prove how confident they are in the quality of the food. Who needs jazzed-up interiors when the cooking is this compelling?  The menu is short but not too short, seasonal without being smug, and features a wry nod to the room’s pub past; a starter of beer onions on toast with aged gruyère. It’s a frankly indecent snack, snaked with sloppy boozed-up ribbons of onions, the particularly...

A relic of a pub, the Palm Tree has no time at all for the modern trappings most east London hostelries. But people still traipse to this middle-of-nowhere Mile End venue for something money can’t buy – the Palm Tree provides a Cockney experience more intense than Danny Dyer pulling pints at the Queen Vic. Signed pictures of obsolete celebrities and forgotten jockeys line the walls above the oval-shaped bar, and spaces that aren’t plastered with memorabilia are covered in gold chintz accented by cabaret-esque red lighting. Regulars can be real characters, but it’s refreshing to visit somewhere with a distinct lack of hipsters. Its canalside position is appealing to summer strollers, but it’s the evening vibe that’s the real draw. There’s often a live jazz band, and since there are no neighbours within shouting distance, late-night knees-ups often get lairy.

Keep your eyes peeled for this one: it’s sunk beneath Greek Street, accessed through a dodgy-looking doorway and a seriously scruffy staircase. If there’s a less salubrious introduction to a bar in London then, well, we’d like to see it. These days, the term ‘speakeasy’ is bandied about with reckless abandon by bar owners desperate to adorn their venue with an elusive, exclusive and illicit allure yet few are the genuine McCoy – not least because if you’re shouting about what you’re doing, then you’re not a genuine speakeasy. This old school drinking den and members club, however, is refreshingly free of any such affectation. Known as Trisha’s, due to the leading lady of the venue, Trisha Bergonzi, there’s a small bar, a scattering of tables and chairs and pictures of boxers, mafia types and Italian football teams adorning the worn walls. There’s a very small courtyard out the back and only one proper lavatory. It looks like the kind of place where someone would get whacked in ‘The Sopranos’. True to a real speakeasy, the drink selection is pretty average. There are some bottled beers, a couple of wines and a quite random selection of spirits. The New Evaristo Club has some very devoted regulars. If they aren't entertainment enough, there are some jazz nights.

Not only does Five Points Brewery make great beer, it also has an excellent place to drink it. There’s a cosy tap room for colder days, and a courtyard for sunny evenings, where you can get well-acquainted with their beers and sample some BBQ treats. And if that wasn’t enough, on Thursday and Friday between 5pm and 7pm, you can get a pint of their freshest tank-beer for this bargainous price of £3.99. Good luck finding one that cheap anywhere else in Hackney that isn’t a ’spoons. Keep an eye on their Instagram for pop-up events, talks and festivals.

Setting up shop in the space formerly occupied by well-loved Haggerston hang-out Pamela, Ellie’s has given the Kingsland Road venue a lick of paint and some softer lighting but kept the ethos roughly the same: an easy-going neighbourhood drinking spot that’s big on vibes and low on unnecessary pretence. We went on a Wednesday evening, where groups of mates were sat under their glowing green sign, sipping on potent £8 martinis and munching on paper-wrapped takeaway from the next door chippy (there are plans, we’re told, to open a rotating kitchen residency in the near future). On a balmy summer’s night, their open front and pavement tables are a welcoming place to work your way through Ellie’s punchy cocktail list, from a pleasingly tart raspberry daiquiri to an always-welcome spicy marg. With rows of stools pulled up to the bar, an excellent playlist of alt throwbacks, and a ‘kitchen at the party’ feel to its small-but-cosy confines, you can easily imagine the weekends getting far looser.  Order this On Wednesdays, their all-day happy hour deals include a £5 Guinness and £6 spritz. Ellie’s go-to, however, is their martini: we went dirty and gin-based, and felt pretty giddy after just one. Time Out tip  Need something to soak up the cocktails? Dalston’s plethora of Turkish ocakbasi grills are just a short stumble up the road.

Some pubs are a work of art, but Mayfair’s Audley Public House takes the idea to the next level. Iwan and Manuela Wirth, founders of the renowned Hauser and Wirth galleries, re-launched this impressive Victorian gin palace in 2022. And ‘impressive’ really is the word: here you’ll find a trippy ceiling mosaic from artist Phyllida Barlow and, in the Mount St. Restaurant upstairs, actual Andy Warhol and Lucien Freud paintings on the wall. It’s pretty intoxicating to neck humble pints in such proximity to artistic greatness, though naturally the pub’s food and drinks offering is pretty swish too. With poshed-up favourites (think pies and fish and chips) in the kitchen and beers from Battersea’s Sambrook’s Brewery behind the bar, it’s a feast for the eyes and tastebuds. Order this The Audley’s Scotch egg, perfectly gooey and served in two halves, sunny side up, should be on permanent display at the Tate. Time Out tip The Mount St Restaurant boasts four private dining rooms, including The Scottish Room, a Highlands-inspired creation that features a striking cluster of antlers affixed to the ceiling. Great Scott! RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants in Mayfair.

Well, you can’t miss it, can you? The pub’s exterior – a bonanza of exploding foliage in pinks, purples, yellows, reds and everything in between – is a clue to the eccentricity at the heart of this fabulous old boozer. It’s a sort of living tribute to Winston Churchill, with a big bust of the former Prime Minister on the bar and a large photo of him in one of the bar rooms, as his grandparents were reportedly regulars. Along with the bric-a-brac (everything from baskets to brass bits and pieces) and Union Jack bunting that hangs from the ceiling, it’s catnip for tourists. Yet the Irish-owned pub, which dates back to 1750, is also beloved among locals whose roots in the area extend as far back as Churchill’s. That might be down to its top-tier Thai restaurant, which the owner reckons was London’s first. You might say it was their finest hour. In bloom The Churchill Arms is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a regular winner in its category in the London in Bloom competition, which encourages greenery in the capital. Get spicy This is a Fullers pub, so there’s naturally a cracking selection of ales – which is handy, as you’ll need something thirst-quenching to wash down that spicy stir-fry. RECOMMENDED: London’s best Thai restaurants.

In recent years this brick and timber 1930s boozer has become south east London’s favourite unofficial queer venue, thanks to an array of campy entertainment including drag and cabaret, plus queer speed-dating events and nights like Flapjack and Pop-Up Dyke Bar. Drinkers and diners are also all happy here; the former get a sterling selection of cask and craft ales, plus cocktails and an acceptable wine list. The latter get a menu that changes regularly, depending on the pop-up kitchen – at the moment its some of the best pizza in London, courtesy of Dough Hands – plus hefty Sunday roasts. There’s plenty of seating: at large wooden tables next to the central bar, in the back garden and in the front yard facing Nunhead Green. It might also be the only pub in London with a shrine to Britney Spears. And the name? A nunnery once occuped this site; the rebellious Mother Superior was murdered during the Reformation and her head stuck on a pikestaff on the green. Lovely stuff!

Do you like music? You’ll love the Beatles. Enjoy movies? Check out a little gem known as ‘The Godfather’. Fan of the dramatic arts? Do yourself a favour, mate: Shakespeare. Thank me later. Am I about to compare Noble Rot to Shakespeare? No! Kind of. It’s more that if you’re a fan of really nice food and wine you should definitely go to Noble Rot. It is a no-brainer. Anything I write after this point is garnish. When, one lunchtime, I walked into the Bloomsbury restaurant and wine bar, a blissful calm set over me, similar to how the barefoot pilgrim Louis IV must have felt on arriving at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Chartres. Some divine harmony, running through the mellow decor, extending into the staff and finally through the menu and wine list. Everything is on point. Everything is nice. The bread is a Rush-esque power trio of carbohydrates: soda, focaccia, and sourdough selflessly working together to achieve a common goal. The slipsole - a kind of buttery, beautiful ellipse - may well be the restaurant’s special move. This fish is a soft and smokey wonder that refuses to not be eaten. Similarly charismatic were the comte beignets. Dusted in parmesan and served with pickled walnut ketchup (a more well-read and worldly Daddies Sauce), these bad boys made me flout my own ‘no more oily crispy things filled with hot goo’ rule. Crucially everything tasted of something. This shouldn’t be a remarkable quality in a restaurant, but how often have you paid through the nose for...