Occasionally we all have a day that’s shite; resulting in you feeling like you want to get so biblically pissed you can’t remember your own name, or see. Very occasionally that feeling of barely contained rage and frustration is shared collectively by roughly half the population. In these instances there is only one place to offer sanctuary; a place of solace and reflection, of guidance and conciliation, where your faith is restored by drinking booze and maybe a little bit of food. Yes, I’m suggesting you go to church and of course by church I mean pub
Even in times where the country doesn’t appear to be utterly fucked The Lord Morpeth is an absolute diamond, managing to stand out in an area that doesn’t lack for good pubs (The Morgan Arms, The Tredegar). Despite being quite boldly non traditional it ticks a lot of boxes and is a must visit.
Set a road away from Victoria Park the location is a bit unfortunate. It’s an inescapable observation that a pub like this would benefit hugely from a proper beer garden as the wildly optimistic benches on side of the road just don’t cut the mustard; this is Tower Hamlets, not Tenby. But that’s the only shit bit out of the way.
It’s a fairly unique layout inside and if you choose to (don’t choose to) you could do laps around the central hub which houses the bar. Pretty much all tastes are soundly catered for in the Morpeth; a smattering of ales, a handful of craft lagers and a spozzle (word provided courtesy of big tongued spittle enthusiast chef Jamie Oliver) of more exotic options. Pump based drinks are complemented by a gin themed cocktail menu which manages to avoid being a list of tired watery cliche cocktails (I’m looking at you ‘sex on the beach’) and instead adds to the outstanding charm of the pub.
Pizza. Now, pizza is not the sort of food I’d usually endorse in a pub setting. This is probably down to the fact that pizzas in pubs are usually sad beige discs smeared with something red, ovened half to death with some yellowed rubber shavings slung on top. Pizza here is tasty beyond belief, it’s also really underpriced at £10 or less for pretty much anything on the ‘Sourdough Saloon’ menu. Don’t just take my word for it, just go and eat one. It is however wise to avoid sitting near the kitchen as it’s hotter than the sun.
Lastly to touch on the setting in which you’ll consume these circles of Italian perfection. The only fitting word for the decor is ‘eclectic’; but this is done well and not by some over ambitious interior designer with a loose screw and a tight budget. Classic movie posters, Elvis pinball machine and a fantastically stylish jukebox all sit well next to each other. It screams East London but falls short of tumbling into cliche.
So; I present you with a tonic to the endless poison clogging up your sensory inputs. Retreat, relax, refresh. It’ll all be there when you walk back out of door but for just a little while your world can be a much smaller, simpler and safer place.