The Castle

£10 - £20 / British, Vegetarian options

225 Portobello Road London Greater, London

Opening hours

11AM-12AM

Sunday 12PM-10PM
Monday 12PM-11PM
Tuesday 12PM-11PM
Wednesday 12PM-11PM
Thursday 12PM-11PM
Friday 11AM-12AM
Saturday 11AM-12AM

Iconic Fish & Chips Elevate Notting Hill

My recent foray into the heart of Notting Hill took me to The Castle Pub, a bustling crucible where tourists and locals alike convene in shared homage to that quintessentially British confection: fish and chips. Stepping in, it's immediately apparent why patrons shower this establishment with an embarrassing abundance of praise (and a slight smattering of disdain, just to remind us we're still in London). Upon my arrival, I was greeted not by the bewildering chaos often associated with busier venues, but instead by an enchanting maelstrom of congenial staff who breeze through the crowd with the ease only found in well-rehearsed performances. The menu, championing what can only be described as a holy trinity of pub classics—fish and chips, burgers, and Sunday roast—doesn't seek to surprise you with experimentation, but rather comforts you with tradition executed competently and generously.

Now, when one orders something emblazoned quite brazenly as "the best fish and chips" on the door served from a kitchen nestled behind such iconic blue frames, skepticism could be forgiven. Yet, each golden morsel danced eagerly between fork and lip, reaffirming with every bite that arrogance is sometimes sorry… entirely justified. Meanwhile, fellow diners indulged in roast sirloin that emerged with theatrical perfection from the kitchen and sticky toffee puddings that whispered sweet sticky nothings across palates. It’s worth going armed with four extra stomachs and a proclivity for schmaltz as stopping at one dish would indeed be shameful. And whenever the odd managerial complaint about price surfaces (or any nostalgic lament over wonky Guinness taps), it quickly dissipates, brushed away by spirited conversation and the constant procession of flowing pints. Here, several bouts of charmingly rapid service ensue, making you quickly remember the hatchet with which you came to bury any critiques. The Castle in Portobello doesn’t merely attempt to quiet the accommodating grumbles of its global congregation; it doubles down with eternally warm ambience and portions hewn not in the sterile realm of measure but under the reckless largesse of reminding you just why Britain calls such casual homesteads its heart. — Penelope Savory