West Midlands, Or West Valley?

Name: The White Harte Pub
Coordinates: 22456 Ventura Blvd., 91364
Neighborhood: The surface of the sun, AKA Woodland Hills
Happiest Hours: M-F 4-7pm

Here's a cultural curiosity -- why are there so many British pubs in the West Valley?

I, for one (and for once, my wife would say) have no real theories to offer on this one -- just random speculation. Is it the hot, dry weather that draws the Brits? Is it the easy access to the freeways and bus lines? Is there some sort of banger supply house in Canoga Park that I'm unaware of?

Whatever the reason, I think you'll agree with me that the area has more than its fair share of pubs. They've got Pickwick's (already reviewed here), Scotland Yard (a personal favorite, especially for daytime drinking), and now the White Harte Pub, which is located about as far west as you can get while still being in the San Fernando Valley as opposed to the Conejo Valley. That's for all you geography nerds out there.

OK, I'm a geography nerd. Whatever. This isn't about me. It's about the White Harte, a not-too-shabby drinkery that should be on your list of stops should you find yourself at the Walmart on Fallbrook. Or that one bowling alley. Or, for whatever reason, way the hell out in Woodland Hills.

The Vitals: The White Harte Pub has a pretty decent thing going on at Happy Hour. Though I didn't detect too many authentic accents, there was "football" on the "telly," as well as enough in the way of Happy Hour special to get Winston Churchill tipsy. $4 (with some as low as $3.25) drafts -- excuse me, "draughts" -- $4 cocktails, and half-off appetizers. The food is pretty decent (that is, if your dining companions don't order the vegetarian pizza -- come on, girls!) if long in the making. The wait staff is just surly enough to remind you where are -- the Valley, in a British pub. On the upside, they have a one of those awesome misters out on the smoking patio, which comes in pretty handy, whether you're waiting in line at Coachella or just in Woodland Hills when it's 106 degrees out. Ah, just like the summer I spent studying Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon.

All in all, it's no Cock n' Bull, but a suitable enough respite should you find yourself miles from any recognizable landmarks and parched beyond mention. You know, like that British guy...what's his name? Oh yeah, Lawrence of Arabia.