This is despite the fact that it’s a typical, grotty English day and the Charles Wells site sits just round the corner from Waterloo station where the air is filled with second-hand fag smoke and car exhaust fumes.
It’s down to the pub’s rustic interior and simple menu – which stick out like a sore thumb when compared to some of the site’s Michelin-starred cousins. That’s definitely not a bad thing though, as I’m an unabashed hispanophile looking to fill the deep emotional void left by the commute to London and a skipped breakfast.
The venue, which remains the recipient of rave reviews from hyperactive foodie bloggers even after being open for over a decade, was originally founded by chefs who previously worked at iconic London restaurant St John and Farringdon gastropub the Eagle.
My three companions and I arrive early enough to get a table – the pub doesn’t take reservations - and we’re promptly seated.
The Anchor & Hope’s wine list, which at a first glance is slightly longer than Dante’s Divine Comedy, is more than accommodating for those relatively light of wallet. My companions and I opt for a bottle of merlot, which is served in small tumblers rather than wine glasses.
And when it comes, the food is bloody delicious. Presentation is subtle; there will be no edible flowers or foams, thank you very much. The pricing is pretty reasonable for lunch in this part of town, with the most expensive mains coming in at just under the £17 mark and smaller dishes averaging about £6-£8.
Aperitivo
Two of my companions choose the globe artichoke with vinaigrette to start, which I get slightly jealous of because it arrives before my starter.
But then my lobster broth arrives, which I have chosen largely because I haven’t consumed enough wine to stop thinking about my waistline yet and I’ve come to the conclusion that a liquid starter might abate potential self-loathing during the journey home.
It arrives quickly, with two crackers lathered in aïoli. The broth itself is light, with a healthy piquancy. Usually I feel a bit guilty about consuming lobster, but in this case I happily slurp away, safe in the knowledge that the unfortunate crustacean was dispatched for a good cause. Gracias, amigo.
Plato fuerte
Perhaps I'm getting carried away with the Spanish elements of this place. The Anchor & Hope isn't, after all, a Spanish restaurant, or even a Spanish pub. It just does great food, served in a lovely, relaxed atmosphere, the likes of which I came to associate with the east coast of Spain on drawn out family holidays as a child. At the very least I'd hazard a guess that the owners appreciate the Mediterranean attitude to dining - woozy meals that, just for an hour or two, make you forget that you have a life away from the dinner table or a desk to return to.
My salt lamb arrives drizzled in caper sauce, whilst two of my companions have pasta dishes. The last to order has kippers and for a second I'm tempted to make a gollum-esque lunge for them, robbing him of his lunch. I don’t though, because after the salt lamb I’m completely stuffed and ready for una siesta.
Postre
One companion orders a titanic cheesecake, a behemoth of a dessert which seems to stare at me from across the table, saying “baby, you couldn’t handle me if you tried.” By this point I’ve drunk far too much wine. Bring on the waddle home.