The Crown

223 Grove Road, Bow E3 5SN

Geronimo!!!!!

No, this isn’t an impromptu celebration of the great Apache chief but a loud, baying call in honour of the company that brought you such monuments to relaxation as The Morgan in Mile End and The East Hill in Wandsworth. Yes, they’re at it again: the busy bods at the Geronimo Inn company have been buying up old sheds and turning them into hard drives of pleasure, or iPubs if you will. Simply select a playlist from all your favourite pub-like items – delicious morsels, gleaming clientele, foaming pints, plush furnishings – and press play.

For anybody who has ever been in a gastro pub (which is everyone, I take it), this is the Armani of gastro dining and will have you saying “Where the fek is Bow?” in no time.

Basically, this is a restaurant. And, oh look, someone’s gone and stuck a pub underneath it. How nice of them. ‘Them’ being the aforementioned Geronimo posse. This venue is saturated with their GI stamp of authority: a hefty wine list smartly collated by a Master Of Wine called John Cleverly, no less; a tidy sum of guest ale options made by people who know shitloads about beer and only beer; plus, the overall sense that this pub was put there for locals and nowt else.

The scene is pretty standard for GI – on a corner, next to the world’s most impeccilbly-kept roundabout, overlooking the domain of Victoria Park, standing newly refurbished, regurgitated, reknowned. The house rules: upstairs is for quiet quaffing and scoffing, downstairs is for rowdy lounging.

The earthy tones and random books sitting on dusty shelves in a ‘all-stock-must-go’ charity shop sort of way should keep the readers of Love Your Library Weekly in fits and conniptions for a while. There’s beautiful wallpaper that could be construed as ‘busy’ or possibly dangerous after a few extra strong scrumpies. It even has its own waiting area with way too many sky lights so you’re never more than a blink away from a nifty little view. And if views are your vice, then you’ll be impressed by the balcony, which would be perfect for shouting obscenities from, if it were allowed, or for royal waving. Or both.

Plus, they LOVE giving you napkins. Not serviettes, mind, proper napkins. You end up with about five of the things perched on your lap by the end of dinner. Sod the environmental impact of having to clean that much linen, this is decadence baby! The presentation is impeccable and style kicks substance’s ass. For example, the devilishly good ham hock terrine and marinated beetroot is delivered on a chopping board. And the pan fried sea trout comes wrapped in actual newspaper. Containing actual news.

If words like liver, kidneys and testicles are to your fancy, then you’re in luck. The menu is littered with all of them. If you’re a cow or a vegetarian, however, this might not seem so appealing. Don’t fret though, if you are the latter, there’s plenty of fleshy asparagus to savagely tear to shreds.

Downstairs looks like a big playroom. The furnishings are mismatched, but in a matched sort of manner. There’s window booth seating and eco-friendly timer-operated outdoor heat lamps. During the day it becomes a true coffee trough for rabbiting mothers with pushchairs and generally the mix of customers is somewhere between edgy student and pop video extra. All with a pinch of affluence.

Despite all this it does have its niggles. For example, the journey from point A, your table, to point B, the loos, is so epic it would make Ben Hur wince. Plus, the bar itself is tiny, leading to serving problems (nothing a few jugs or an outside bottle bar couldn’t fix).

Overall, the change from its previous tapas incarnation is discernible and the area seems relieved to have it here.