The Drapers Arms, islington

The Drapers Arms, islington (£££)

What George Orwell and I have in common is a fairly robust understanding of what makes up our dream pub. George Orwell carefully and poetically lays this out in his essay The Moon Under Water, which contains such points as the architecture being Victorian, being quiet enough to talk, and the types of glasses beer is served in. His essay outlines these points in detail; however, as he admits, he knows no one pub that meets all of his qualities.

While Orwell’s list is long, mine is fairly short. In fact, three points No-nonsense food, a good drink list, and takes bookings. The Drapers Arms? All three.

Walking in, The Drapers Arms feels nostalgically welcoming; you can lounge in the summer or cosy up in the winter. A simple wrap-around bar takes centre stage in the middle of the room, with tables, benches, and chairs flowing around the edges of the pub. Seated at a scratched wooden table among mismatched chairs, it’s hard to sense if it is humility or bragging that the pub needs to worry about what it looks like (as long as it is clean...) and that food and drink alone will be all that matters to us.

Back to my three requirements—although I’ll work backwards. Firstly, yep. They take bookings, and good thing I booked; there were no walk-ins available (and this was a Monday!). Secondly, drinks. With a wide range of on-tap drinks, the pub also boasts a long and very reasonably priced wine list. We started with a glass of Catarratto Ciello and a gin and tonic, then shared a carafe of Rioja.

To the food. The Drapers Arms serves a celebration of British cuisine. Seasonal and changing daily, the menu contains some staples such as bone marrow and camembert, Burrata, Charentais melon, cucumber and chilli oil, and a variety of sharing steaks with chips, salad, and peppercorn sauce. For our visit, the menu included mackerel rillettes to start, cod, pickled rhubarb, and a borlotti bean salad for mains. However, for our dinner, we opted for ox heart and tartar dressing and black pudding, aged prunes, mâche, and pickled red onion to start. We then followed it with confit rabbit leg, white beans, and bacon, grilled coquette, and a Caesar-style salad. We also got chips, because why not?

Now enjoying glasses of Rioja, it was time for our starters. Simple white plates carried our starters, and with simple garnishes, it was clear the focus was on the quality of the food. The ox heart was a generous portion, cooked with a good sear, and dressed lightly with a good dollop of tartar sauce. Similarly, the black pudding dish was served as a pressed patty, dressed liberally, and sitting on a bed of mâche (or lamb's lettuce to you and me). Cooked well throughout and only slightly chewy, the ox heart was well seasoned with deep gamey flavours. Contrasting nicely against the deep flavours of the heart was the fresh and zingy tartare, with the acidity from the lemon cutting through the fat.

The black pudding, cold and refreshing, had a well-rounded flavour, the salt and earthiness from the black pudding playing nicely with the prunes and pickled red onions. Dressed liberally and on a bed of lamb's lettuce, it was one of those wonderful summer dishes to make what’s normally a heavy dish or heavy flavour into something summery and light.

When our starters were brought over, however, we were asked a question we hadn’t considered before that moment. Our answer was a very quick "absolutely". The question, of course, is: "Would you like some bread and butter?". Salted butter and sourdough are the perfect vehicle for any gastropub starter.

One of the things that gastropubs often have over restaurants is the atmosphere; the mix of people just eating and drinking helps create a sociability easily lost elsewhere. As we were waiting for our mains, we were reminded of this. Sharing a large wooden table, another party joined us at the other end, where we shared a brief conversation around the wine list.

Again on white plates, our mains were equally well presented as our starters. The confit rabbit leg was a wonderful golden brown, with a few crispy spots, without losing confidence that the inside would be moist. Carrying on the golden brown colour palette was the bed of white beans and bacon, dotted with specs of herbs, with a wonderful jus. At least mixing it up with the green and clear freshness of the cabbage with the coquette, the chicken was, like the rabbit, a wonderful deep golden colour. If our meal wasn’t complete enough with golden tones, then the bowl of wonderfully crispy, thick-cut chips was the proverbial cherry on top.

Gamey, but not too heavy, the rabbit leg was perfectly cooked, moist and juicy on the inside whilst having a crisp outside, helped by the rabbit being very well seasoned. As you ate and cut into the rabbit, you helped season the beans and jus more, boosting that umami flavour. The white beans and bacon, soft and melting into each bite, provided an earthy base that was tempered by the slight acidity and saltiness of the jus.

Another theme running through the menu today is salty umami flavours tempered by acidity—the Cesar-style dressing and lettuce wedge cut through the buttery flavour of the coquette. While each flavour was bold and pronounced, the dish still tasted summery, and you would have no doubts that this menu is truly seasonal.

While the dishes were simple enough, the flavours throughout the meal were clearly well thought out. Again, being North London gastropub fare, the dishes don’t come adorned with sides to complete the meal, so be prepared to order chips here, mash there, or some extra cabbage or lettuce to finish your meal off, but you know what you will eat will be worth it. The meal isn’t cheap either; at around £10 for a starter and £25 for a main, plus bread and chips, it does add up.

Of my three criteria, at least it hits all three. Plus, with a seasonal menu, it’s the sort of place I’d want to come back to see what's new on the menu. And, like many of the places I review here, I will be back.