Named after the crime-writing regular, the Edgar Wallace has coped well with the demise of nearby Fleet Street. Much of its daytime trade now comes from the Royal Courts of Justice, and the legal trade’s patronage helps to ensure standards remain high.
The pub has upped its beer game, as evidenced by the 200-plus beer mats and pump clips: you’ll find up to eight ales on tap, with the house brew (Edgar’s Pale Ale) supplemented by the likes of Suffolk’s Nethergate. The after-work crowd generally fire into the wine; menus, bearing an iconic profile of the author, offer hearty fare.
Framed mementos upstairs tell of the time when Wallace ran a writers’ club there, while the hallway contains a potted biography of the man. Why don’t people live those kind of lives any more?