On a bright spring afternoon, I found myself walking down Rathbone Street, towards the iconic vermilion façade of The Newman Arms, the pub George Orwell is believed to have used as his model for the Proles pub in 1984. Despite its literary legacy, the pub feels unpretentious—just warm wood, muted lighting, and a hum of conversation spilling onto the street.
I’d reserved a table upstairs in the cozy Pie Room, which was dressed in crisp white tablecloths and dimly lit by candlelight—an elegant contrast to the casual bustle downstairs. The herringbone brick floor and old-school charm made me feel like I’d discovered an unexpected treasure in central London.
Starters: A Taste of Tradition
To start, I ordered the Chicken Liver Pâté with Caramelised Onions and Sourdough. The pâté was luxuriously rich—velvety, deeply savoury—which paired beautifully with sweet, sticky onions. The sourdough slices were toasted just enough to offer a crisp bite without being hard, served alongside generous pats of real butter.
My dining companion opted for a half‑pint of Shell‑on Prawns. It was an old-school delight—we popped them straight into our mouths, dipping the firm prawns into tangy Marie Rose sauce. The citrus hint of lemon brightened the brine and added crispness to the flavour.
Both starters arrived quickly, setting the tone for the kind of relaxed, unfussy yet carefully curated experience that defines The Newman Arms.
Mains: Bowls of Warm British Soul
The real draw here—of course—are the pie varieties are made in-house daily.
Shepherd’s Pie (Braised Lamb Leg)
My first main was the Shepherd’s Pie, built with tender braised lamb leg and crowned with a crispy duxelle-style mash topping. The lamb was deeply savoury, moist, and broken down into that melt-in-your-mouth texture; the mash, golden and crisp at the edges, added a satisfying contrast.
Aged Beef Rib & Shin Pie
My companion chose the Aged Beef Rib & Shin Pie, served with Murphy’s Stout gravy and roasted Hispi cabbage. The pastry crust was robust and flaky, enclosing succulent chunks of meat bathed in thick, glossy stout-infused gravy. Each bite was intensely savoury, balanced by the caramelised tang of cabbage. The meat’s gelatinous richness and the bitterness of stout created a perfectly complementary savoury symphony.
Wild Mushroom Pithivier (Vegetarian)
On another visit, I opted for the vegetarian pie, the Wild Mushroom Pithivier. The pastry was ideal—burnished, buttery, crisp. Inside, a generous mix of mushrooms delivered earthy depth and savour. The accompanying truffle‑tarragon sauce, served in its own little jug, was rich, fragrant, and paired beautifully with the smooth mash. The roasted roots—sweet, slightly charred—added texture and visual appeal.
Fisherman’s Pie
Another standout was the showy Fisherman’s Pie, complete with a whole langoustine emerging from the mashed potato crust. Underneath, succulent prawns and fish sat in a rich seafood sauce. The dish felt theatrical yet perfectly balanced; the mash was creamy, the sauce tangy with a kick. It looked like a showpiece, tasted like classic comfort food with a fresh, creative edge.
Sides & Additions
We paired our pies with a few well-chosen sides:
Tenderstem broccoli in anchovy-herb dressing—crisp and bold.
Maple-roasted root vegetables—sweet, earthy, and visually vibrant.
Creamy mash, added even if some pies came with their own portion—it arrived fluffy and buttery, the ideal base for gravy or sauce.
These cost around £4.50–£5.50 each, and all felt carefully elevated without fuss.
Drinks & Atmosphere
Drinks at The Newman Arms offer just enough variety—from classic ales to refined cocktails. I tried their signature Old Fashioned. It was smooth and surprisingly elegant—refreshing more than heavy, and somehow celebratory in a low-key way. The staff were welcoming and generous with suggestions—anchored in genuine hospitality rather than performance.
Desserts
By the time we reached dessert, we felt full—but curiosity won. We shared the chocolate cake, a dense mousse-style slice—restrained indulgence that felt elegant. Alternatively, there’s a British cheeseboard with local cheeses—simple, refined, and served with quince membrillo.
I left feeling like a renewed Londoner—reconnected to a quieter, more grounded side of city life. A place of poetry, maybe, but grounded in real warmth: a proper pub lunch in a proper pub. A place where a pie and a pint means something still
