I'm never sure about gastropubs. A lingering sigh usually follows a fervent query, "Where are all the old regulars, this was an old man's pub. Are they drinking speckled hen ale in the basement"?
Speculation on New End, NW3 after the closure of Ye Olde White Bear last October. Renovation? Flats?
Midway through last night's lament, I saw candles flickering. A golden glow in what I presumed was the living room of flat number 6. It is in fact a new Ye Olde White bear restaurant. Salty padron peppers with flaked paprika, sardines and a bowl of stewed apples. Influences from everywhere but largely Spain. Library green walls, french hand painted tiles and the obligatory unmatched bric-a-brac chairs.
Feeling local. Might get a copy of Ham & High this week.