Mr Fogg's Tavern

£11 - £25 / British, Cocktail bars, Vegetarian options

58 St Martin's Ln, London

Opening hours

12:01PM-1:01AM

Sunday 12:01PM-11:01PM
Monday 12:01PM-11:01PM
Tuesday 12:01PM-1:01AM
Wednesday 12:01PM-1:01AM
Thursday 12:01PM-1:01AM
Friday 12:01PM-1:01AM
Saturday 12:01PM-1:01AM

Quirky Atmosphere with Stellar Cocktails

Stepping into Mr Fogg’s Tavern feels like embarking on a whimsical voyage back to the textured pages of a Victorian novel. Nestled on St. Martin's Lane, this pub is more than just its 19th-century quirks; it exudes an atmosphere rich with the romance of old-world explorers and eccentric charm. Its eclectic decor—vibrant foliage spilling over the facade, adorned interiors reminiscent of jam-packed curiosity cabinets—is nothing short of enchanting. While sipping on their signature cocktails, like the pirate punch or a classic gin and tonic, I was delighted by the inventiveness of the menu that charmingly echoes its travel-themed milieu. Despite some crowded episodes—packing patrons along both quaint and bustling boulevards—the waitstaff remains a bright spot; Rudolf, our waiter, managed to effortlessly maintain a buoyant approach even as brolleys folded and unfolded during persistent London rain.

Yet, Mr Fogg’s does offer two distinct narratives. Its storytelling could use some fleshing out—a balance between ambiance and service nuances is yet to be mastered entirely. I've encountered instances where precision faltered: misplaced reservations stood awkwardly next to tables that seemed eternally reserved or settled debates over involuntary service charges that quirkily surfaced post swiping my card. In spite of these, Mr Fogg's retains its potential through sheer character: it captures hearts with a playful nod to the flamboyant spirit of adventure while simultaneously threading nostalgia for simpler tavern days. Although some might bristle at the occasional hiccup around service or charges, for once-in-a-while adventurers, willing to suspend pedestrian norms for eccentric venues, an evening here edging towards dusk rarely ends without a charmed sigh. — Nigel Gourmet