The Pig and Butcher has been on Liverpool Road since the mid-1800s, when Islington was still a village and cattle passed through on their way to market. The pub hasn’t forgotten that, and neither has the room – pale washed tables, bare wood, bitter on draft, milk jugs and kitchen supplies scattered across the shelving.
The menu moves with what’s available, built around farms and suppliers chosen carefully and changed often. It’s a short list that earns its brevity. Vegetables and meat are collected daily by the staff, butchered and prepped downstairs in their purpose-built butcher’s room before service.
The food draws from European farmhouse cooking. Simple and straight to the plate. Crowd pleasing favourites. Scallops from Orkney, deep fried like a scotch egg filled with black pudding and salsa verde. Aged beef tartare finished with a perfect egg yolk. Sea bream steamed and sitting in a light bouillabaisse with fennel. A 45-day aged sirloin with beef fat chips that you can bury in a thick peppercorn sauce.
The Sunday roast is what most people come for, and I can understand why. But a long Tuesday lunch when the benches out front are catching the sun, cold pint in hand as you taste your way through the small dishes – that’s the version worth planning around.
