Perilla

This 'modern neighbourhood restaurant’ has fun with the formula. It looks the part – all candlelight, pot plants and terrazzo – but a subversive streak is not far below the surface. Ben Marks cooks the classics, but not as you know them. Consider panisse, lightly battered, cut into nigiri-like fingers with pungent salsa verde and presented on a decorative bed of raw chickpeas; or a take on vichyssoise (served hot in a scuffed metal dish) with punchy lovage as well as the more traditional parsley. The tastiest dish we tried was perhaps the ugliest – a ‘carbonara’ of cauliflower mushroom, its constituent parts (bacon, Parmesan, breadcrumbs) coming together to create a mac ‘n’ cheese/au gratin/carbonara hybrid. ‘Punk’ is perhaps too strong a word for food that’s so pleasurable and big-hearted, but it’s certainly the antithesis of all that is twee, tweezered and tasteful. Marks sources wisely and cooks well. A main course of Devon duck breast, soft and pink, pairs neatly with its celeriac and sauerkraut garnish (the chef can do restrained), while reginette pasta with a hearty ragù of girolles is comforting but unrefined. Desserts are limited to a sorbet and just one proper pudding: we plumped for the full-size prune and damson doughnut, oozing Armagnac cream. Pure Perilla. The tasting menu is the best of the carte, so it's well worth ordering. To drink, choose a wine flight or a bottle from the short, hip all-European list (also ask to see the extended 'single bottle' list). Note that all prices quoted include a service charge; credit to the owners for also flagging it unequivocally on both the menu and the bill.