Entering a British pub and discovering, after a few seconds of perusing the menu, that nothing on offer has ever touched a field or swum in the sea can be subtly disconcerting. No pies with beef. Not chips and fish. There isn’t even butter concealed in the mash. Just reinvented plants. This isn’t a gimmick at The Spread Eagle. It’s the whole idea.
The bar doesn’t make a big deal out of being vegan on a gloomy London afternoon, the kind when the sky seems to be unsure all the time. There are no sincere slogans or green signs. It seems like a purposeful understatement, if anything. Pints clink against wooden tables, velvet couches line the walls, and there’s a football debate going on someplace close to the bar. Until the meal is served, it could be any tavern
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Name | The Spread Eagle |
| Type | Fully Vegan Pub |
| Location | Homerton, East London, UK |
| Founders | Meriel Armitage & Luke McLoughlin |
| Established | 2018 |
| Specialty | 100% plant-based food & drinks |
| Known For | Vegan “fried chicken,” tofish, beer selection |
| Website | https://www.thspreadeaglelondon.co.uk |
Going completely vegan in a setting as culturally charged as a pub seems to be about more than simply food cafe it’s about identity. In the past, British pubs have been stubborn establishments. They are resistant to change.
Regulars protect their habits like unwritten contracts, frequently sitting in the same chairs for decades. At first look, substituting plant cafe based snacks for pig scratching’s seems like a recipe for trouble. Nevertheless, an unforeseen event occurs.
Although genuine, the resistance doesn’t always persist. There is a brief moment of doubt, followed by a shrug, as senior customers cautiously drink vegan beer, which is brewed without animal cafe derived fining agents. It still has a beer flavor. It appears to be more important than the list of ingredients.
It’s difficult to ignore how much familiarity plays a role in this experiment. The cuisine mimics eating rather than attempting to reinvent it. Fried cafechick’n,cafe tacos stuffed with spiced fake meat, and dairycafefree creamy sauces. It’s decadent, almost defiantly so. Here, nobody is promoting salads.
One of the creators, Meriel Armitage, has said that early vegan cuisine failed because it seemed like punishment. That is true. For many years, eating a plantcafebased diet was seen as morally significant yet uninteresting. It’s obvious that something has changed now that you’re in a pub where triplecafefried chipotle potatoes arrive with the same unreserved grease as any typical meal. It’s not totally smooth, though.
There are brief, poignant times when the shift seems brittle. Silently, a local asks if normal cafe meals will be available again. The thought of vegan scallops raised an eyebrow. There is a persistent skepticism even among the inquisitive, as though everyone is waiting to determine whether this is a phase or a permanent revision. Perhaps the most honest aspect of it is that uncertainty.
Because, despite certain paradoxes, the larger trend is gaining traction outside of this particular tavern. Supermarkets and chains have jumped at the chance to launch plant cafe based brands. Every year, thousands of people attend events like Veganuary. Investors also appear to think that reconsidering what people eat could be profitable. A press release timeline does not alter culture.
A bar in South Wales that tried a vegan cuisine for a short time was completely booked for weeks before making the change permanent. Such a response raises the possibility of demand rather than just curiosity. For every success story, there are more subdued endeavors that go unnoticed. The Spread Eagle’s atmosphere back in London is more akin to a negotiation than a revolution. New ideas meet old routines. Tradition is changing, but it is not going away.
To their credit, the creators appear conscious of the fine line they must walk. They have kept important aspects intact, such as reupholstering bar stools rather than replacing them, maintaining a familiar layout, and avoiding upsetting old patrons. Maintaining the sense of being a local cafe while subtly altering what that implies is a delicate balancing act.
Unquestionably, the whole process has a social component as well. Groups of doubters, vegans, and slightly interested people show up with varying expectations. Discussions veer between mere choice and environmental concerns, as well as between taste and principle. By the end of the night, nobody appears to know exactly where they stand.
In a larger world governed by tradition, entirely vegan bars might still be a subculture, doomed to remain curiosities. It’s also feasible that they are early indicators of a slow cafe moving change that is more persistent but less spectacular than headlines portray. There’s a sense that the experiment, at least here, is successful as you watch plates return empty and hear the constant buzz of talk. Not quite. Not anywhere. But enough. Perhaps that’s all it takes. It’s not necessary for a tavern to persuade everyone. All it has to do is remain filled.
i) https://www.vegconomist.com/gastronomy-food-service/pub-goes-fully-vegan/
ii) https://www.morningadvertiser.co.uk/Article/2019/10/11/How-has-the-vegan-wave-affected-the-pub-trade
iii) https://www.bardoburner.com/2025/07/24/the-spread-eagle-a-vegan-pub-rooted-in-tradition/
iv) https://www.vice.com/en/article/inside-londons-first-vegan-pub/