The Eagle, Farringdon

the eagle farringdon

The Vibe

Gastropubs can be tiresome. Chalked blackboards, open kitchens, elevated prices and Ottolenghi-esque menu items puffing out their chests as they sidle up to extra spicy Bloody Marys and Caipirinhas. This place, however, changed my mind, despite having all those things and more. The Eagle is a cosy circular room, littered with groups of friends, couples still reeling from the night before and the odd family playing cards and catching japes. It’s neither particularly trendy, nor traditional, just a pretty-ish wood-panelled den where you can watch a daytime drinks session drag on into the night. And yes, like a true gastropub, the lights are lower than you’d find at your local and are laudably industrial chic. It’s an excellent choice for someone who is determined not to take their date to a secret bar or a foodie hotspot. Were they not on this particular date, they would be right here with mates, positioning themselves next to a group of hotties and attempting to fuse tables as the session progressed. Take a date here from 2pm on a Saturday. Make it someone you already like and are comfortable enough with to just consume, consume, consume. Lazy dating, perhaps, but there’s nothing like an extended pub session to cut out some of the pretence.

The Order

Set up a tab, sharpish. The crab linguine is lip-smacking. Get lots of bread to soak up the spicy oils and order another one 2 hours later. It’s  a very good comforter if reeling from the Friday before. Drink Bloody Marys, pints of Becks and bottles of the good house red. Order you meal in trickles, with different mains to share and salty snacks to pick at as you drink.

The Game

This is a fourth date. The third was last night, on a Friday. You did something relatively standard, dinner in a Soho restaurant perhaps, then ended up drinking far into the night, briefly hitting a house party and going back to theirs. You wake up with mild hangovers, made better by morning sex, and decide to start your day around midday. You shower, down pints of water and eat some emergency toast. You then set off to The Eagle. The journey seems longer than it should be, your sugar levels drop dangerously and you enter the room just in time. One of you falls to a table, the other runs to the bar to start the tab and get the Marys. You’ve had the foresight to pick up the papers en route, just to make the adjusting minutes at the start a bit easier. 20 minutes in, you’re comfortable and much happier. You re-hash the night and quip unintelligently, making the most of your delirium. Get tactile early on, kissing sporadically to keep some continuity with the night before.  Stay until it’s dark and you’re slurry and sleepy drunk. Then return home to make spoons, not love. You’ll be out cold by 10.

The Faults

If you can’t get a table, it’s not worth it.

Sex Factor

1. It already happened, this is the aftermath.

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