Every morning, evening, and indeed, periodically throughout the day, The European and I send each other messages of places we want to visit. Mostly in Japan or London, but occasionally elsewhere, like Scotland, or the inside of an H.R.-related meme, where life would be easier and funnier.
As a dutiful boyfriend, it’s my job to curate these messages into three lists. Firstly, places we need to follow up on with a visit, second, places that can be added to visits at an implacable date in the future, or thirdly, places I can ignore. I often get this curation wrong, but I try my hardest. Recently, The European sent me a video of a must-visit barbecue residency at The Golden Lion, promoted by the revered ‘Aton of Food’ (nope, me neither). The beef ribs and mac ‘n’ cheese looked to die for, so I thought, why not? This is me acting on an Insta message and it’s always great to have a reason to visit Camden. To add credibility to proceedings, I also found a glowing review of Rack City by Jay Rayner, from the balmy summer of 2023 when they were in residency at The Duke’s Head in Highgate.
In true form, the day we were supposed to visit, our stomachs were playing up. Nevertheless, we were confident a walk to the pub would see us right. The walk was along Regent’s Canal, westwards from St. Pancras. It was lovely and warm, which meant the saunter was busy and unpleasant. We shared the picturesque towpath with multitudes of people who don’t appear to know how to walk, as well as idiots on Lime bikes. This towpath would be the LAST place on earth I could cycle.
By the time we got within striking distance of The Golden Lion, we decided that we were in a fit state to eat, so we turned towards the pub and headed in. It’s a strange place. It appears to be the only characterful building in an otherwise unremarkable and stale part of Camden, perhaps a lucky relic that survived the Blitz. Inside, the pub is cute, but I’ve seen cuter. We were greeted by a chirpy blonde waitress in dungarees and shown to a table before being asked to move because “…it’s a four. And we need it later.” Our next table had a ledge under it that squashed my knees. We ordered a couple of I.P.As. I can’t remember what they were, but they were fine.
The menu–all barbecue and predominantly meat–looked mouth-wateringly good. We ordered ‘7 cheese mac and cheese’, coleslaw, some fries, a brisket bap, and a full rack of ribs. We asked for the Jacobs Ladder eight-hour slow-cooked beef ribs, but when the waitress said they might have run out, we said we were fine with the Applewood pork smoked ribs. We were given the latter but sadly not informed.
The food took over an hour to come out, with other tables, including the four that we were asked to move for, being served first. Only when we asked where our meal was did the waitress oddly declare “it’s on the way” and disappear down the stairs to the kitchen. Seconds later, she appeared with the food.
Everything tasted like it had been left on the pass for ages. The brisket was tasty but tough, the sinniest of barbeque sins. The ribs were also leathery and actually a little tasteless as well. The slaw was poor, but I did enjoy the mac and cheese, which was rich and stringy, probably on account of it being left somewhere for a long time so the seven cheeses had extra time to glue everything together (sometimes delays are good). We conceded that the best part of the afternoon were the fries and the waitress, who despite possibly being a little bullshitty, was a bubbly barrel of laughs.
By the time we had escaped, almost an hour and a half into a meal that should have barely lasted sixty minutes, the sun and warmth of an early April Saturday afternoon had disappeared into typical London Grey. It had been an unrelaxing lunch. The table was uncomfortable, the dining room was messy and noisy, and the food could have been wonderful, but due to sloppy kitchen work or poor chef/Front of House communication, we’ll never know.
We felt Rack City Ribs at The Golden Lion was the product of some paid Instagram golden lying. It might be a cool place to call a local, but not worth an hour there and back on the train. I can overcook food in my own kitchen for a fraction of the price, as The European will angrily confirm!
Visited on 13th April 2024.
Two beers and a few plates of barbeque came to £sixty, service not included. Travel to Camden and back cost north of a tenner if you know what I’m getting at.
The food thing. 
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