We’re not talking fancy gastros or soulless chain pubs here, but the last remaining free houses and old man’s pubs: the genuine, no nonsense, old school drinking holes.
The Owl and the Pussycat
Roast: At this genuine East End boozer, you almost have to fight to get a table. You’ll be left in a comatose state by the tasty roast dinner with ‘the lot’ piled high on a magical plate that seems to be able to create an endless amount of juicy, meaty gravy.