ReviewIf there was an award for style-over-substance in the pub world, this bar and restaurant would be an absolute shoo-in, having presented itself as an upscale place-to-be for aspirational blowhards, whilst delivering a truly painful pub-going experience that I was eager to escape from the minute I got there. Situated, appropriately enough, in the vapid consumer hellscape of the Westfield Shopping complex, the bar comprises a vast single open plan room which is relatively shallow but extremely wide, with the servery along the rear wall. The room is part bare boarded and part stone tile floored, with banquette and chair seating to the right, basic tables and chairs through the centre and high tables and stools to the left. The bar is extremely long and has a tongue and groove panelled counter beneath a row of hanging baskets which area suspended from the skylight above the serving area. The room has been amply decorated with potted plants and has some quite pleasant mural-style artwork on the walls, although the entire front wall is taken up by folding doors that open out to the front patio seating area, best positioned for anyone wanting to do a bit of people watching as the shopping centre’s customers come and go. A much larger outdoor seating area can be found to the left of the pub, where several rows of long red tables and benches can be found, each with their own potted plant and many under a large shelter. The front and right parts are on Astro turf, with the remained on a slightly raised decked area surrounded by a fake hedge, with more plants hung from the beams of the shelter. The fake grass and hedge felt like a metaphor for the entire operation, which felt very superficial, with nothing to show beneath its shiny surface.
The reality of this place became apparent when I tried to order a beer – usually the simplest of processes, but a nigh-on impossible task here. Despite there being ample staff and zero customers at the bar, I was politely told that I couldn’t order there, I had to place my order via a QR code instead. I explained to a very helpful barmaid that my phone can’t read QR codes and she agreed to take my order verbally, but rather than just taking it there at the bar, she first had to seat me so the server would know which table to take my beer to. Having plonked me out in the garden, she then had to rush back inside to check the beer I wanted was actually available (it was – I could see it when I was stood at the bar), then came back and spent ages trying to find the beer on her keypad before finally taking the order and payment. Having then vanished for a while, she eventually reappeared with my beer, making me wonder why she’d needed to seat me if she was going to be the one pouring and serving the beer. Anyway, this all done, I had a pint of Forest Road IPA in front of me and £6.40 missing from my wallet. It was a dull, flavourless brew that most definitely wasn’t worth the 10-minute ordering faff, but probably no worse than the Guinness or Camden Pale alternatives that made up the cask-less beer range. Cocktails seem to be the order of the day here, although I suspect I’d still be waiting for mine now if I’d tried to order one of them.
I could find very little to say about this place that showed it in a good light – the beer range was poor, the prices astronomical, the service was insanely convoluted and the place is just a big, bland shed with a plastic garden. You won’t catch me saying this too often, but I’d rather spend my time traipsing around the shops in Westfield than having to endure another visit to this mess of a pub.
