retiredmartin

July 2024. Kilburn.

Not only does the swathe of North West London beyond Regent’s Park feel a bit underwhelming pub wise (but wait),

but it’s also resolutely grim, lacking green spaces bar the odd cemetery. So Kilburn Grange Park brings relief, albeit with the most oppressive smell of weed I’ve yet encountered. And I’ve lived in Adelaide.

A year ago I’d walked past Kilburn’s Black Lion on a London megatickathon, rigorously sticking to a strict eight (8) pub plan and resisting this newly re-opened heritage gem.

Back then I wrote “the Black Lion looked the most likely place to reclaim a Kilburn entry in the Guide, with its threat promise of microbrews and a Desi inspired menu. We shall see.”

And here it is in GBG 24. You should trust me more.

Folk who care about “history”, the sort who admire Stonehenge, will be able to write eloquently about this late Victorian 3* heritage gem, I just wrote “Wow !“.

A lovely tight cask range, first sighting of Cwtch for a while,

but despite this interesting keg line-up I went for the Harvey’s.

And not just because it’s £4.80. Frankly, the Harvey’s Sussex is as good a test of a pub’s cellarmanship as Landlord, alternating between ropey and dull to cool and chewy.

This was good, if not quite as Royal Oak/Magdala levels.

There’s an enlightening debate on CAMRA Discourse in which John from Manchester notes a bar “suffering from the same problem – plenty of customers spending two or three hours in the bar but in that time they only buy one or two drinks“, and I note most customers sipping halves of iced fizzy water rather than sinking pints in the Black Lion, but then that’s the middle classes for you.

But I loved the pub. A bit echoey, but rather that than silence.

Having just arrived from Pinner I now get Pinner’s favourite son as the soundtrack,

but instead of a yellow brick road I get the Kilburn High Road, past Tennessee Fried Chicken and Chicken Cottage and Chicken Valley, to Brondesbury Station.