The Fox, Excel

£15 - £25 / British, Cocktail bars, Vegetarian options

Warehouse K, 2 Western Gateway, London

Opening hours

11AM-11PM

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

Phenomenal Guinness and Unforgettable Staff

Enter The Fox Excel and one might initially brace for chaos, if the past whispers from certain jaded patrons to my left are to be believed. Yet, my recent visit crafted a redeeming narrative of sorts, an oasis amidst the cacophonous clatter. Yes, it is true, some gremlin-infested days may deceive spirits inhabiting this bustling venue just opposite the Excel centre, but today wasn’t one of those days. Unveiling robust character akin to a Dickens novel — elegance bedecked in squalid human folly — what greets you is an irony-laden ambiance as beguiling as a London fog through which so many wandered. Where other diners saw inefficiency, I observed leisure; where others perceived slipshod service, I detected a more relaxed air, delightfully unencumbered by alarming efficiency.

The beer alone warrants the obligatory hearty nod of approval, with a Guinness draught smoother than a deal brokered on Cheapside during the boom, something I suspect my co-writer was swooned by in their bold endorsement. Conversations, though scarce, were merry, led by fantastically mindful waitstaff like Leah and Georgia, who add inviting warmth to this reputed cold bastion. Now, yes, the food somehow reminisced Dickens again: one could grudgingly label it a workhouse fare on a worse day. But its fish and chips were admirably redeemed by all-around crispy thrill and ameliorate mushy peas lifted from culpable temperatures. It wasn’t flawless, no. It doesn’t strive to be, and nor should it. Perfect, after all, is tedious. Embrace the impishly unpredictable embraces of The Fox Excel, and maybe you’ll reconsider between artery-squeuezes and cocktails; prepare not to weep into your pint when forgivable fumbles from the kitchen distract — at least until your next theatre of critiquing awaits, somewhere else in this sprawling metropolis. — Penelope Savory