The Windsor Castle, Kensington

An old lady friend of mine has undergone cosmetic surgery. Tonight, I'm visiting The Windsor Castle again now the bandages are off. A listed atmospheric charmer, in its current guise, it has been serving genteel Kensington folk since 1835 - but there's been a tavern on the site since Shakespeare was a boy. Had the new dining room been around in his day,  dinner within might have been the inspiration for the bard's work. The Merry Wives of Windsor? A Comedy Of Errors, more like, performed by waiters whose roustabout routine lapses into farce at times. "Does anyone have a torch? I've dropped a £1 coin on the floor," pleads one. Having taken it barely seconds before, another waiter is back to ask what we ordered as "the ticket got lost between here and the kitchen." "You wanted rosé. This is red wine," beams same bright spark later, before exiting stage left. Behind us, a table of angry 'regulars'  pointedly deducts the 'service' charge. Another exasperated patron reckons Basil Fawlty must be in charge and, on and on it goes, like Hamlet, a tragedy in five acts. On a balmy evening, with a warm breeze blowing in from the busy, NOISY garden, our food is no Midsummer Night's Dream either.  On an ambitiously priced menu, quality ales are suggested to match each of 8 starters and six mains - Curious Brew an apposite choice for a most curious over-sweet/ under-seasoned pea soup that's poured from its serving jug, carelessly sloshed over (courtesy of that waiter again) a pointless 'soft-boiled' egg placed at its centre. The eye-bothering result is green gloop that brings back childhood memories of my father clearing frog spawn from his garden's unappetising soupy pond. My date's ham hock terrine is bland, its piccalilli insipid, seasonal leaves savagely a-salted by a thuggish dressing. Better, as it ought to be at £19, is attractively presented individual rabbit and crayfish puff pastry pie. Decent mash and al dente green beans, too. Pedestrian chips and astringent house relish accompany a ribeye bone marrow, Celtic Promise cheese and bacon burger.  How would you like it cooked?" "Medium rare please," says date, only to be informed several minutes later that the burger can only be cooked the way chef - "he's French, I think, and very particular", offers our waiter, sunnily - likes it (i.e medium to well). So  not As You Like It, dear diner. Either way, it would be a disappointing, sloppy assembly at half its £18 cost. My date is getting tetchy... and we all know what happened to Romeo when Juliet  went off the rails. We pass on English puds (from £6 ) and coffee so as to All's Well That Ends Well, who knows? 
114 Campden Hill Road W8 7AR 7243 8797 http://www.thewindsorcastlekensington.co.uk

Adapted from my review for www.squaremeal.co.uk

Hunter S, De Beauvoir Town

Its PR woman claims the launch of this new sister to The Hemingway in Hackney made the locals swoon during its soft launch. Blimey! Did delicate De Beauvoir Town damsels need to reach for the smelling salts, scared silly to find themselves confronted by half the four-legged cast of ITV’s Wild at Heart? Mounted on a big Windsor brown soupy safari park-cum-dining-room’s walls, is what appears to be an ad for Essex Road taxidermists, Get Stuffed - a gauche tableau no-longer-vivant that might be described as 'overkill.'  Dinner doesn’t exactly have me fainting with excitement. Wibbly yolk scotch egg beats a Thai beef salad reminiscent of the hangover cure you greedily wolf down, cold, when last night’s so-soy-salty takeaway is the only option in the fridge. Steep at £12.75, a decent burger patty merits better accessories than industrial chips, limp bun and tasteless tomato. At £18.50, prosaic Argentine merlot is the cheapest of just nine wines while Doom Bar and Sagres head the (better) beery offer. My designer chum digs the pub’s statement crystal chandelier - less so, its jazz joint, Art Deco meets dead fauna stance - ‘Tragidermy!’ ‘Was this named ‘Hunter S’ after gonzo journo Thompson, he of The Rum Diary? Or is it actually called “Hunters?”’ he wonders aloud as sad, shot roebuck, bear and buffalo stare back blankly. Service ranges from charming Charmaine to her sulky sidekick whose pouty snout would be next to be stuffed and hoist alongside Bambi’s late parents, were I in charge. Deer and Loathing in De Beauvoir?

194 Southgate Rd N1 7249 7191 www.thehunter-s.co.uk

The Tommyfield, Kennington

Why ‘The Tommyfield?’ asks chum. Spiritually, blonde, she’s perplexed by this new grub-pub’s handle. ‘Because, historically, Kennington was where all London’s tomatoes were grown,’ I offer. She buys it. In truth, the name refers to an Oldham market, the site of the world’s first ever chippy circa 1860, I’m told. It’s another astonishing claim to fame for the Lancashire town, hitherto, best remembered as ‘home of the tubular bandage’, as a sign on a bridge there proudly proclaims. At the T.Field, the latest offering from the Renaissance group who previously cornered the Clapham ‘gastro’ market with The Abbeville, Avalon, Bollingbroke and Stonhouse pubs, fish and chips are present and correct. Sunday roasts - as good as it ever gets for £12.50 - are apportioned with Lancashire roly-poly politico ‘Big’ Cyril Smith in mind so the place is, understandably, jammed. Either the Kinsey Report’s 10% estimate is way off the mark, or the proximity of Vauxhall’s flesh-pots explains the over-representation of the Kylie Appreciation Society, today in the house. They sup draught Doom Bar and keenly-priced vino. Our murderously punchy Mexican red will necessitate a Tijuana taxi ride home but as this lot are local, for them, a short stagger back to an IKEA sofa in time for Sunday’s serving of Come Dine With Me.  

185 Kennington Lane SE11 7735 1061http://www.renaissancepubs.co.uk/index.php

The Rose, Fulham

What was once the less-than-tip-top Fulham Tup is on the up and hopefully, not a trace of local tabloid titillating tosser Terry. Re-branded, revamped & reinvigorated under new management, it’s crying out to be discovered by well-heeled locals - note to Chelsea FC, money can't buy you class - and shoppers checking out the antiques of the lower end of Kings Road - that's furniture, not Vivienne Westwood What they'll find just off the main drag is a relaxed, deliberately antiquated affair that’s almost Georgian in its woody austerity. Global grazing takes centre stage on the menu: rillettes with cornichons, crab on toast, moules marinière, aubergine & sweet potato curry, chilli tiger prawn with noodles, pannacotta & berries are typical dishes that leave change from £10. A dozen wines (from £3.50 a glass) include a plump Languedoc Viognier at £21, while an elegant Margaux is the priciest bin at £32.50 – a trio of Champagnes excepted. Enjoy a pint of draught Sharp's Doom Bar in the walled garden when this Rose blossoms fully come the spring.
1 Harwood Terrace, SW6 7731 1832




www.therosefulham.com/

Prince Albert, Battersea

The launch of The Northcote in Battersea is all cheap rosé, shucked oysters, bad outfits and loons in daft headgear posing beside a jokey oil of a custard tart-splattered Duke Of Wellington - much to the merriment of Northcote Road’s sub-Sloane set. We escape to The Prince Albert another of owner Geronimo Inns’ recent openings at the posh(er) end of SW11. They’ve given this old codger with its butch island bar a decent makeover but why do Geronimo’s designers always trowel on the twee like they’re Lady GaGa’s stylist? Strip out the cod-mod-Britannia and there’s plenty to admire - e.g. robust German frothy tops on tap and a wine list with gluggable interestings at under £20. We trade up to Simmonet-Febvre Chablis, the last swallow of summer, perhaps, in ‘Albert Square’, the pub’s attractive yard where punters congregate to ‘smirt’. That’s the act of smoking and flirting as you doubtless know, although based on two Hermès bag hags’ acid-tongued patter, smitching - as in smoking Bensons and bitching - is nearer the mark. Our barman, meanwhile, reckons The Albert’s modish all-day grub is ‘sexy English with a twist’ - a description some might apply to Reiss or Karen Millen, like Geronimo, fashionable mid-market chains, if that’s your bag.

The Prince Albert, 85 Albert Bridge Rd SW11 7228 0923