Stormbird

Craft Beers Shine in Cozy Atmosphere

Nestled unassumingly in the vibrantly eclectic heart of Camberwell, a pub I've recently had the distinct pleasure to sample, lures me back time and again like a moth towards a perfectly calibrated neon sign. Imagine, if you will, a sanctuary clad in modern aesthetics yet imbued with an old-world charm where the unmistakable voice of London's craft beer scene echoes from every corner. The all-important first impression is dictated by a conversation-stopping choice of craft ales: beguiling orange wines on tap for the adventurous, and formidable Trappist brews for the connoisseurs who know their Dubbel from their Stout. It's a repertoire that would make Bacchus himself perk up in interest, though it teeters heavily toward the adventures of robust brewing; causality is all too apparent when patrons realize apologies might be needed for wobbling as they walk out.

This establishment’s audacious 'bring-your-own-food' policy extends a welcome duet between the vibrant plates of the neighborhood's best eateries and drinks that sing from a bar populated by delightful staff who might well double as philosophers between rounds—a host they rarely have enough of, given nightly crowds that spill quite seamlessly into the botanical embrace of the locale's curbs. This performance is marred only slightly when one ventures beyond the heady realms of ales—the note of disinfectant clinging to the air rivals the most memorable of ardors. Yet, character oozes through these imperfections in true Camberwell-fashion: nuanced, cultured, and gently ironic. Enter expecting warmth and good cheer paired perfectly with tints of atmosphere that recall what once used to be Britain's proud alehouse tradition. You'll leave, perhaps paying slightly over-the-odds post pint, but your stride: nonetheless— buoyed mightily by hops, and almost inexplicably, pleased. What more can the modish bunyip, clutching their innovative sours, really ask for? — Penelope Savory