THE WESTBOURNE

It seems like the Westbourne has been creating a buzz on this Notting Hill street corner forever. It’s a see-and-be-seen, watch-the-world-go-by, let-Sunday-slip-along-smoothly kind of spot. Out front is a huge street-side terrace and solar gas burners allow the flirting hordes to eke out that summer feeling as long as possible.

Inside, this is a pub that edges into brasserie territory. A long, green-and-zinc bar runs along one side, the menu is chalked up on blackboards, there are big Chesterfields to lounge on and large old mirrors reflect all the action. Otherwise, the walls are covered in framed posters and paintings, a hip backdrop of battered portraits featuring Francis Bacon, Morrissey and Elvis Costello.

There’s a fine selection of beers on tap and by bottle, and a good selection of artfully coiffed bar staff to serve them, and the food is imaginative and excellent, with a menu that changes twice daily. They call it ‘peasant-style’ but these are some lucky peasants, with dishes such as baked filo rolls with butternut squash, ricotta, sage & nutmeg, or fillet of seabass baked with lentils, chicory, thyme, white wine & vermouth, to choose from.

In contrast to upscale local, the Cow, across the road, the Westbourne feels more like a destination, somewhere you might come from another part of town specially to hang out. On weekend nights, cabs wait outside, waiting to whisk drinkers off to the next party. Who are they? They’re a young, affluent crew, their dress sense at the expensive end of hipster-chic, with lots of cashmere slung casually over shoulders. Perhaps it’s the continental vibe of the interior that attracts so many expats: you’ll hear more European accents here than at an Erasmus reunion.