THE SUN AND 13 CANTONS

We scanned Google for insights into the unusual name of this lively Soho taproom, but all we came up with was Ezra Pound waxing lyrical about some mythical Chinese ancestors and the dark musings of Dante’s Inferno. For our money, the name conjures up images of arcane mythology and trips to Spanish monasteries where monks guard ancient secrets, though this might have been something to do with the etched-glass sun symbols on the windows.

Inside, the Sun & 13 Cantons is every inch the Soho public house, attracting crowds of good-natured after-work
drinkers, as it probably did back when Victoria was HRH. However, the owners have ditched the Victorian chintz for something altogether more classy. Art Deco light fittings with filament bulbs cast a moody glow that made us think of 1920s Paris; tall mirrors, whirring fans and polished granite tables added to the European café mood which continues on downstairs in the function room. We half expected to see Edith Piaf pushing through the crowd bemoaning the fact
that she didn’t go to Specsavers.

At its heart though, the Sun is an honest London watering hole, as evidenced by the mix of ales and lagers at the bar (though we also noted fruity Belgian Früli on the taps). This is a pub of two halves: half the regulars love to hang out outside on the pavement, where they can escape the restrictive dictats of the smoking ban, while the other half engages in intense conversations at the tables indoors. Even when it’s packed outside, you may find a seat inside at the back – a rare thing in this neck of the metropolis.