Pubby perfection

The first thing I saw at The Lord Stanleywas a big rack of sunny, cheesy grins. The lone chef works from a teeny nook of an open kitchen at the end of the pub's central bar. This kitchen's just an oven, a hot plate and a shelf, really. I've seen bigger in a Queensway bedsit, and so some of the bar has to be used as the chef's prep area. Hence the wedges of squash sitting there, vibrantly orange, beaming at me as I walked in the door with a freezing cold wind at my tail.

I did not need to look at the chalked-up menu with just six dishes on it. I was having the cheerful food. This pub must have the world record for the shortest time taken to warm my cockles, which were hot before my bum had even hit my standard gastro, salvaged, mismatched, battered wooden chair.

The Lord Stanley is a gastro from the old school, a Thirties pub, original details intact, stripped back to a low-stress white, dark green and wood interior. It has some great ales behind the bar, including the elderflowery Exmoor Gold, so, despite a tempting chalked-up wine list, we stuck with pints of that.

A near-full complement of greedygrunter siblings joined me, and we took it in turns to take trips to the blackboard. Bread came. The focaccia, ciabatta and a treacly seedy wholemeal were all clearly home-made.

The pub does not serve starters, but the main-course plates are large. My squash had an oozing river of mozzarella running over it and a wedge of soft, without being clammy, baked sage gnocchi (nicely crisped and brown on the edges) at its side. The mozzarella was topped with the wintry sweetness of a few jewels of candied fruit and toasted pumpkin seeds. It was a stomachpleasing savoury triumph, if a tad dry overall.

Amy had monkfish wrapped in pancetta, which was so beautifully cooked that we all commented on it, served on a herby, brothy plate of white beans. Ben had sea bass, again beautifully cooked, and served with boiled beetroot, ruby chard and horseradish crème fra"che. William went for a smashing bit of confit duck - crispy, raggy, yet still a bit pink - with a strongly spiced red cabbage, puy lentils, and powerful quince compôte.

Seconds up - a chocolate fondant that was not runny enough in the middle and a plate of good, well-kept Neal's Yard cheeses. The atmosphere was convivial, the staff were friendly and quick and the bill was small. A ginger cat loafed about to complete the all-round pubby perfection.

The Lord Stanley
51 Camden Park Road, NW1 9BH