The Princess Of Wales

Authentic Pub Charm Meets Delightful Dining

Picture, if you will, a warm escape from the turbulent swell of Central London: a haunt named Nicholson's bundling you into its embrace just around the corner from Charing Cross Station. In a town where everything seems to have edged towards the hip and happening, turning its back on tradition, this pub is a bastion of what makes British pubs beloved worldwide. Quaint despite its bustling surroundings, it peeks out with cunning charm amidst the city's eager exchange of pretentious plastic facades, whisking any unwary traveler into an oasis of honest-to-goodness ales, their pride of place, as always, their meticulously poured Guinness. To enter here is to step into another era—or perhaps step with it—where wood outshines otherwise lackluster modern gloss, and big screens lean over to ensure even your worst sporting day could turn up trumps with a winning smile.

Yet, you must know, timing—not unlike in life itself—can be a trickster here. Though I half wished for an avatar of Basil Fawlty to dart animatedly among tables, what I got instead was pathos in pedestrian pacing of service: plates taking atmospheric dawdles to grace grateful guests as pints were pulled beneath layers of warmth and ale profundity exchanged hands. Nonetheless, when such generous awaited food, like the signature pies or stalwart fish and chips finally arrived, all criticisms dampened to soft murmurs of woozy contentment. You'd not trade that crunchy batter or delicious lattice-pie crumbling under one's fork for many glittering jewels in the crown. Come for Kai recalibrating allergy confirmations like an able minister of dietary peace; come for the pedal stayers of this historic musical realm named the Prince of Wales; but in all decency, simply do come...idyllically aware Thursday through Monday it maintains joy beyond sustaining expectancy. — Penelope Savory