Annoyingly-named (for me), but completely absolved by the fabulous-ness of the food.
How can "Anchor And Hope" be an annoying name?
Because the Islington, London pub after which it's presumably named is called The Hope And Anchor. It's a subterranean club where bands like The Stranglers and The Sex Pistols got early gigs. I saw a fresh-faced Billy Bragg perform there long before he became angry and famous. My host and fellow cruise-about-London-and-marvel-about-how-the-other-half-drink pal, Roger also introduced me to Man at that same Hope And Anchor.
Anyhow, back to the plot. Every time I have to say "Anchor And Hope" it sets my teeth on edge.
The Anchor (grrrr) And Hope (grrr, grrr) is a seafood-centric, but meat-friendly place with an initially cold vibe (all that black and white tile) that quickly warms up. The quality of food, the friendly staff, and the buzzing crowd all help to raise that temperature.
The 5 of us were divided into those who wanted lashings of raw oysters (Stephen and me), those who wanted to "try one just to see what they're like" (Pavey), and those who on this occasion wanted them baked rather than raw (David and Felicia). Consequently, we tucked into our preferred oyster delivery systems and then our Fish and fantastic rosemary-flaked chips, Ahi Tuna, Pork Loin, Lobster Roll and Hanger Steak.
A mammoth selection of rare and interesting beers rounds out the menu, and perfectly complements the rest of the excellent menu.
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