Imagine stepping into what was once a gritty, soulful pub, only to find it transformed into a sleek, sanitized eatery charging premium prices for dishes that blend nostalgia with over-the-top innovation—sound like a dream come true or a recipe for disappointment? At The Shaston Arms in London's W1 district, this paradox hits you right between the eyes, leaving you questioning whether reviving old pubs is truly honoring their legacy or just cashing in on a trendy facade. But here's where it gets controversial: is this 'pub revival' genuinely bringing back the warmth of community watering holes, or is it erasing the raw, unfiltered charm that made them iconic in the first place? Stick around to dive deeper into this dining dilemma that has food lovers buzzing—and maybe even fuming.
Nestled in what resembles a cleverly repurposed bookshelf at the chilly rear of The Shaston Arms (check out their site at https://www.theshastonarms.co.uk/), I found myself cozying up near a vintage dumb waiter, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my £16 portion of red mullet paired with squid ink rice. This setup gave me plenty of time to ponder the buzz around the 'pub revival' sweeping modern hospitality. Picture this: forgotten, rundown pubs are being lovingly restored and relaunched, celebrating the timeless tradition of grabbing a pint and unwinding with friends. The Devonshire pub nearby in Piccadilly (as highlighted in this Guardian review: https://www.theguardian.com/food/2024/oct/25/devonshire-london-w1-grace-dent-restaurant-review) stands as the undisputed pioneer, the ultimate benchmark that racks up rave reviews, viral TikTok fame, and a roster of celebrity enthusiasts. No surprise, then, that countless hospitality entrepreneurs are eyeing their local dive bars and thinking, 'Why not spruce up that dusty relic with some elbow grease, a dash of polish, and menu items like duck à l'orange or flourless chocolate tart? It's the latest craze, and Gen Z is all over it!'
But—and this is the part most people miss—does today's younger generation genuinely connect with the 20th-century pub scene? It's up for debate, because these renovated spots have scrubbed away the rough edges: no more phlegm-spattered floors, cigarette ash in the air, dartboards clattering, pool cues cracking, bar brawls erupting, cheeky topless pin-up posters on peanut packets, or that regulars' staple—the woe-is-me alcoholic nursing his woes over endless pints. 'We're just like the pubs of yesteryear,' they proudly declare, and The Shaston Arms near Carnaby Street is a prime case in point. Yet, those classic establishments had their own quirky vibes, from blaring jukeboxes spinning ballads by Tom Jones (often with lyrics that wouldn't fly today) to a cozy snug area with shag-pile carpet where ladies sipped their Dubonnet (learn more at https://www.doyoudubonnet.com/) in a space that wasn't always welcoming to everyone, especially women or those bold enough to order a proper beer in the main saloon.
In contrast, The Shaston offers a comfortably sterile, Gen Z-approved vibe: a gleaming space adorned with rock 'n' roll artwork, taps pouring beers with eccentric names, and a menu featuring imaginative bites like fennel and escarole caponata sprinkled with hazelnuts or caramel flan dotted with miyagawa oranges (those sweet, seedless citrus fruits from Japan—think a cross between a mandarin and a tangerine, perfect for adding a tangy twist). The offerings get creative, nodding to pub classics with beef-fat-coated onion rings topped with smoked cod's roe, merguez sausages in baguettes, or mashed potatoes crowned with tender scallops. Yet, they also venture into refined territory with delica squash drizzled in fontina cheese and walnut salsa rosso, or bigoli pasta (a thick, Venetian noodle style, like an earthy cousin to spaghetti) tossed with chanterelle mushrooms and pecorino cheese.
Some dishes showcase delicate craftsmanship, such as that silky mashed potato infused with subtly spiced scallops and aromatic curry leaves—a harmonious blend that could warm anyone's heart. But other creations veer into excess. Take those hefty onion rings, for instance; do they really need a heavy dose of intensely smoked fish roe on the side? Fair play, the staff cleared my plate before I'd fully tackled that puzzle, sparing me the dilemma. And what about that caramel tart overwhelmed by an avalanche of salted almonds and a bitter citrus punch? Here's a bold controversy hook: just because modern chefs have the skills and ingredients to layer flavors doesn't mean every combo hits the mark—some might argue it's culinary overreach, sacrificing simplicity for shock value. Is this innovation or unnecessary complication? I'd love to hear your take in the comments below.
The real sticking point at The Shaston Arms, though, is its ambition to embody a cozy, old-time boozer while operating as a chic eatery with upscale pricing. Service in the dining area? It was practically nonexistent. Not a single team member seemed equipped to handle basic restaurant etiquette, like offering refills on drinks, swapping out used cutlery or plates between courses, checking on your satisfaction, making friendly eye contact, describing the dishes in detail, or even reacting to a bartender's loud complaint about the frigid temperatures in the restaurant section. Meanwhile, patrons like myself shivered amid the ringing reservation phone and the clatter of someone prepping bread—which, by the way, runs you £4.50 for a tiny baguette slice slathered in bland, refrigerator-chilled butter.
All told, this meal set me back £144, including a comical £16 service charge that felt more like a punchline than a tip. I could've stretched that budget further with multiple outings to Wagamama, a chain known for reliable Asian-inspired comfort at a fraction of the cost. The Devonshire succeeds at this 'simple' revival because it masterfully balances the gritty pub charm with refined dining, pulling off an intricate dance that demands top-notch staff, a separate dining space shielded from the pub crowds, and a hefty investment to make it look effortlessly authentic. Without that finesse, you're left charging exorbitant prices for subpar sides—like £4.50 unsalted fries in a drafty annex—while ignoring requests for salt, condiments, or even basic departure acknowledgments. For crisps and camaraderie, Wetherspoons seems a smarter bet next time.
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The Shaston Arms (https://www.theshastonarms.co.uk/) 4-6 Ganton Street, London W1, 020-3757 5774. Open for lunch Tuesday to Saturday from noon to 2:30pm, Sunday noon to 4:30pm; dinner Monday to Saturday from 5:30 to 9:30pm. Expect to pay around £35-£40 per person for a three-course meal, plus beverages and service.
What do you think—does the pub revival trend deserve applause for updating classics, or is it stripping away the authentic grit that made pubs special? Have you encountered similar experiences at revamped venues? Share your thoughts and let's debate: is there a way to honor tradition without losing the soul?
