14 fine dining deals to book for Restaurant Month 2026
Published 13 January 2026

Ben Murphy (formerly of Launceston Place) has taken over the old Mere site to open his new restaurant in partnership with group behind the Woodspeen, the Clockspire and the Braywood. 

‘A top restaurant experience in an incredible setting,’ commented one fan after visiting this impressively proportioned, Grade I-listed Elizabethan manor house. Aclèaf – oak leaf in Anglo Saxon – is the small, intimate premier dining room, an elegant space occupying a former minstrel’s gallery overlooking the majestic great hall. Here, well-spaced, linen-covered tables seem to mandate a sense of occasion, which is amply supplied by a brigade of ‘outstanding, knowledgeable and passionate staff’ and by chef Scott Paton’s ‘creative’ contemporary cooking.

His compact, seasonally driven dinner menus are inventive yet simple, cooked with assurance and technical know-how. From the moment the snacks and freshly baked breads arrive, it’s clear that concentrated thought has gone into every detail, with ‘lots of unique personal touches’ adding to the experience. The ‘inspirational’ four-course menu is perfect for taking in the whole experience, with tip-top supplies and bright, upstanding flavours evident in opening salvos ranging from goat’s cheese with brambles and pecans to a Middle Eastern-inspired combination of squab, dates and preserved lemon. Elsewhere, thoroughbred meats such as venison with prunes and beetroot or a whole-table speciality of Highland wagyu ‘au poivre’ with parsnip exemplify the style perfectly.

Savoury notes also appear in the final course (perhaps duck egg with exotic fruits and coconut), or you could round things off with a delicate confection of vanilla, bergamot and star anise. Wine matches offer pure class by the glass, and readers applaud the dedication that has gone into compiling an authoritative list with better-than-fair mark-ups.

A little south of Oxford Street, Chantelle Nicholson's Apricity might one day come to define London dining in the new 'twenties'. Amid the plutocrats' boutiques of Duke Street, it styles out its defiant scruffiness, with scoured, undecorated walls, small café tables and light fixtures that look artfully dusty. Low-waste, vegetable-based cooking is the wave of an ecologically anxious future, and if it comes out as innovative and interesting (as it does here), nobody need feel deprived. Artisan farms supply much of the produce, as in a first-course of miso-roasted cabbage with pickled kale in a smoked emulsion. Not everything is vegetarian, however: a generous starter of pollock tartare with pickled kohlrabi, topped with broken linseed cracker, was full of freshness and bracing bite. To follow, there might be something earthy and carb-heavy such as discs of baked celeriac on a carpet of Black Badger peas, given a nice kick with a seasoning of cultured gochujang, or you might go full carnivore with a cutlet and rib serving of excellent lamb, alongside hunks of beetroot and a gentling splotch of labneh (though nothing of the promised mint salsa). Desserts expect you to have left your sweet tooth at home. Rhubarb with raspberry granita and cashew cream goes full-on with vegetal flavours, while the little plum and rapeseed tart, garnished with underripe plum, has little of the almond richness of traditional frangipane. Wines by the glass could do with broadening their horizons – the textures and fruit flavours fall within a fairly narrow band for each colour – but the selections themselves are good. We won't gag at Ferraton's St-Joseph in a month of dreary Sundays. Staff run the place with impressive coolness, not writing anything down. Don't turn your phone off, whatever you do: the menu is accessed via a QR code on a stone, or by navigating to the website.

Run with consummate grace and decorum by ever-present Gavin Rankin, this archetypal Mayfair brasserie feels as if it has been around forever – even though it only arrived on the scene in 2004. Inside, the green banquettes are almost an institution in themselves, and everything about the beautifully appointed dining room speaks of discreet civility and understated class – no wonder the late Queen Elizabeth felt right at home here.

In fact, everyone is most welcome and the whole place exudes genuine warmth – thanks in part to ‘truly exceptional’ staff and classical service of the old school. The menu is built on precisely executed, canonical specialities with Provençal overtones – think asparagus with hollandaise sauce, iced lobster soufflé and jambon persillé ahead of steak tartare with Pont Neuf potatoes, red mullet with anchovy butter or entrecôte of beef with pommes frites.

Many dishes have impressed of late, from devilled eggs (rich and creamy) to Dover sole, executed with consummate elegance, flair and copious quantities of butter – plus a dash of seasoning to bring it home. Desserts are well-tried classics, from île flottante, Marina’s chocolate cake and tarte tatin to Bellamy's famous 'soft' ice creams. Otherwise, a bowl of Minstrels (often brought out by Rankin himself) provides the final satisfying flourish. The lunchtime table d’hôte is a steal, and the fiercely Francophile wine list (from £30) offers terrific value across the range.

* Fomer sous-chef John Shuttleworth has been promoted to head chef, following Adam Thackeray's departure to the Horseshoes at Longlane. Watch for a new review coming soon.*

Built centuries later than you might suppose from its leaded windows and formal gardens, Baslow Hall's heritage isn't entirely what it seems – but the hospitality of its restaurant is genuine. In this locale, it's long been the best address for a fancy feed, but there's no front-of-house ennui. The dining room, grand but fresh as a daisy in pale grey and blue, is a lovely spot in which to enjoy all the trappings of a country house restaurant, from bread with Lincolnshire Poacher butter (delivered with the gleeful mantra 'it's 3% salt!') to a supplementary course of grilled cheese with truffle – followed, of course, by something from the drinks trolley. Head chef Adam Thackeray knows how to make ingredients such as giant ceps (from nearby Ladybower) shine, adding the crunch of nigella seeds and an oozy barley risotto, with burnt lemon gel for contrast. The super-smooth curry sauce of the European kitchen is allowed to retain enough poke to work with stone bass, roast cauliflower and golden raisins, while for pudding there's anything as long as it's chocolate – the fruitier choice being poached pear with chamomile ice cream and creamy-light white chocolate namelaka. Staff know the dishes (and the extensive drinks list) well, and being one of their guests feels easy.

* Jöro has now launched its new restaurant at the Oughtibridge Paper Mill development on the outskirts of Sheffield. Read our first look here and watch this space for a new review coming soon. *

One of the best possible uses for a shipping container, Luke and Stacey Sherwood-French's darkly loveable restaurant is hunkered into Sheffield's ex-industrial heartland. A simple fit-out bats away any pretension – all is charcoal, including the sacks of artisan fuel standing ready to grill Thai sausage-stuffed chicken wings. You'll help yourself to cutlery from the big box on the table, allowing the staff space to communicate their deep in-house enthusiasm for the possibilities of flavour and texture. With no carte on offer, the generous tasting menus are well balanced and precise in almost all things, borrowing from the Japanese kitchen as well as making merry with British ingredients and European technique. The opening moments might feature a croustade brimming with Montgomery Cheddar and onions or a well-fired treacle roll with barley-miso butter, followed by silky, barely set chawanmushi custard popping with mussels and trout roe and topped with a decadent white wine sauce (why not?). Pearly North Sea cod dotted with wasabi has a chip-shop vibe with pale tempura-batter scraps added at the table, while the aforementioned stuffed chicken wings come with an inventive, intense sunflower-based satay sauce and juicy papaya salad. West Country venison, served with foraged mushrooms, squash with mandarin kosho and a liberal dousing of cep butter, is something to truly delight in, and puddings are a proper job: kaffir lime gives some Opal Fruit-sherbet zing to a mango parfait; chocolate tofu ice cream comes with a delicate coffee-bean oil, and an apple extravaganza (sponge, miso, custard) is the final hug. A carefully considered drinks list has something for the responsible fermentation enthusiast inside us all, while non-alcoholic options set the standard.

True to its name, Nest takes the form of an intimate restaurant nestled amid the hubbub of Old Street: two dozen seats are set around a horseshoe-shaped dining room, stylishly decked out with dusky green walls, ceramic tiled floors, stacked jars and other miscellany. Seasonality is a priority in a broader sense: the restaurant switches between phases roughly every three months – ‘River & Valley’ and ‘Highlands’ were in the pipeline, but on our visit the kitchen had turned all its focus, like the swing of a lighthouse beam, to ‘Sea & Coastline’.

A dozen or so saltwater-themed dishes showed a kitchen capable of playfulness and precise cooking. A rich shot of sea broth was a prelude to monkfish croquette with wild garlic mayo – though the star dish followed soon after: moreish slivers of grey mullet crudo, with sansho peppercorn and notes of sweetness from figs tucked into the mix. Contrasts are presented capably and creatively: in one dish, the smokiness of barbecued kale was offset by creamy St Austell mussels; in another, the delicate flakiness of poached cod was in harmony with the sharpness of yuzu kosho.

Full marks go to the soda bread – served with a dollop of neon-green cultured butter – and a dessert of custard tart with preserved elderflower ice cream that was conspicuously not sea-inspired. The expansive 11-course tasting menu at £90 can contract to seven courses for midweek dinners and lunches for £70 – there’s also the ‘Nest Cellar’, a bar for walk-in drinks when tables are available.

He may not have the public profile of all-conquering Rick Stein, but Paul Ainsworth is a big player in Padstow these days – and this engaging Georgian townhouse is his gastronomic HQ. Cool artwork and a ‘great soundtrack’ add some upbeat vibes to the two modest dining rooms, while staff get a special mention for their thoroughly professional attitude and ‘sense of humour’. That said, Ainsworth's cooking is indubitably the star of the show. The menu is divided into four sections highlighting the chef’s technical prowess, his loyalty to seasonal produce and his bold culinary imagination. Ainsworth's modish approach and his pairing of disparate ingredients may seem tantalisingly outré, but the results invariably draw ‘sighs of pleasure’: ‘bird’s liver’ with carrot ketchup and smoked eel; truffle-cured cod with roast chicken and manzanilla; ‘all of the pigeon’, various gamey conceits including a confit leg wrapped in crispy shredded kataifi pastry sitting on umeboshi condiment (made from Japanese salted plums), followed by a dark pain au chocolat filled with the remaining bits of the bird. To finish, there might be some artisan cheese with 'apple pie', but all eyes inevitably turn to the near-legendary ‘Fairground Tale’ (as seen on TV). Roll up for three edible sideshows: the ‘old tyme coconut shy’ (a towering bitter chocolate and coconut soufflé with chilled cocoa and rum custard); a miniature, hand-painted wooden carousel bearing a chocolate bar and a crunchy brown-butter choc ice wrapped in paper; and finally, ‘all the fun of the fair’ – a wickedly rich muscovado-glazed doughnut served warm with raspberry curd and butter-roasted peanuts. Matching this is a wine list stuffed with bottles that the owners like to drink; France claims pole position but the range is global, and there are some tasty by-the-glass selections too. ‘A brilliant dining experience that made the six-hour drive down from Kent more than worthwhile,’ concluded one couple.

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.

*Chef Alberto Cavaliere has left to pursue a new project. He has been replaced by former senior sous-chef Aggelos Kassais, who has returned to head up the kitchen.*

It may have opened in 1991 but Pied à Terre barely shows its age. On our most recent visit, the bijou skylit dining room looked sleek, glossy and plush (although it comes with a relaxed vibe and surprisingly straightforward service) – and it was good to see that the place continues to be a crowd-puller. Indeed, owner David Moore’s reputation for launching the careers of some of the UK’s leading chefs looks set to continue, thanks to the culinary magic of Alberto Cavaliere, who arrived at the beginning of 2025. Cavaliere has simplified the menus, offering a set three-course lunch, à la carte, and lunch/dinner tasters.

Beyond these anchor points, he reveals a true understanding of flavours and textures, partly because of his ability to combine indulgence and lightness – no doubt reflecting his time spent at Marcus at the Berkeley, Robuchon and Sabor. He packs a lot of flavour into an intense hit of ‘tuna’ crudo (aka compressed watermelon) with cucumber ponzu, ditto slivers of Japanese sea bream in 'leche de tigre' with daikon and toasted rice. Sauces are a real strength, playing off against ingredients of outstanding quality, whether a sweet scallop complemented by a dice of rich, softly yielding pork jowl with a light, delicate burnt crème fraîche and Minus 8 verjus sauce adding gentle acidity, or a nugget of cod topped with caviar, smoked eel and Champagne sauce – all reflected in the provision of a spoon with each course to ensure that every drop of sauce can be savoured. 

Like everything else on offer here, desserts are clever and innovative – standouts at our visit being thinly shaved petals of Tête de Moine (cheese) with a pineapple and apple chutney (so simple yet so satisfying), as well as a joyous assembly of white chocolate crémeux, yuzu, lemongrass and basil. A list of truly wonderful wines is presented on an iPad. Should that prove too confusing, a sommelier is on hand to proffer exemplary advice.

Born and raised in one of POP Brixton’s shipping containers, Smoke & Salt now has a permanent home on the streets of Tooting – thanks to a successful crowdfunding campaign (the donors’ names are inscribed on fermentation jars along one side of the restaurant). Stripped-back slate walls and exposed brickwork are standard-issue for an on-trend neighbourhood eatery, but all eyes are on the open kitchen – a ‘constant rush of energy, heat, flames and smoke’. Snacks set the tone for a menu that takes its cue from the restaurant’s name: sweetcorn is grilled ‘to within an inch of its life’ and served with salty miso dip, while just-cooked cauliflower nuggets come smothered in smoked chilli salt and aïoli. Bigger dishes show the kitchen’s flair with seasonal ingredients – perhaps English heirloom tomatoes (seemingly picked ‘at their perfect ripeness’) intertwined with smoked egg yolk, plus a sharp elderflower vinaigrette and a few smoked almonds tossed in for good measure. Or how about a flavour-packed, 12-hour smoked pork chop topped with an utterly mouthwatering apple, sweetcorn and seaweed jam – ‘the best savoury condiment I have possibly ever experienced’.  If you’re sweet of tooth, don’t miss the English plums with hazelnut frangipane to finish. The wine list is short and accessible, but don’t ignore the bespoke classic cocktails ‘touched by smoke and salt’.

‘The area has been crying out for an up-market eatery since the Royal Oak closed its doors,’ noted one local correspondent, happy to confirm that the Braywood ‘fills that slot perfectly.' Following an eye-catching, airy wood-and-glass rebuild, the place is now resolutely in tune with the times and does duty as a warm-hearted, professionally run restaurant. 

Sam Brennan’s cooking is smart and high quality with just enough tasteful, quirky detail never to be dull. Succulent, slow-cooked pork cheek, for example, teamed with the kind of bright, upstanding flavours that properly enhance the main item – namely celeriac, apple and lemon thyme – was a hit when we visited, as was a rolled fillet of Dover sole stuffed with mussels, covered with a creamy white wine and mushroom sauce and served with seaweed-buttered potatoes. Elsewhere, pink, tender slices of lamb loin with Wye Valley asparagus, wild garlic and a lamb sauce were also flawlessly cooked. Leave a special space for desserts – our banana soufflé with salted caramel, balsamic and miso ice cream succeeded decadently at every step.

High prices are in keeping with this affluent area, though the set lunch (also served at dinner Tuesday to Thursday) and the well-reported Sunday roast are excellent value and broaden the appeal. The sharp list of cocktails (served in the smart bar) is a particular strength, and an excellent by-the-glass selection provides affordable access to the impressive, wide-ranging wine list.

Built as a props warehouse in the 1800s before becoming a lumber store, the Radford family's aptly named Timberyard feels perfectly attuned to the space it occupies – monumental in scale but retaining intimacy and humility. Rough white walls, monastic timber tables, ecclesiastical candles and hemp linen may infer a certain cool asceticism – accentuated by the contemporary classical soundtrack – but there are certainly no metaphorical hair shirts where the food is concerned. Rusticity and refinement sit in perfect balance with the joyous celebration of flavours and a messianic elevation of honest ingredients, both foraged and from artisan producers. Slightly distant staff glide between the tables with almost ritualistic purpose.

Set menus include an extendable three-courses at lunchtime to fuller five-or seven-course options. An opening scene-setter of beach rose and tomato broth blends the Turkish delight aromas of foraged petals into a redolent consommé, while a raw beef toast masterfully offsets earthy funk with floral freshness. Follow on with tiny girolles in a Comté and hazelnut cream, draped in creamy slivers of guanciale and finished with shaved white truffle.

Each dish carefully builds the layers of taste, so a perfectly pan-roasted quail gets just enough sweetness and bite from its smoked onion and wilted monk’s beard accompaniments before harmonising the whole in the savoury creaminess of pan juices cut with black pepper yoghurt. Like so many of the dishes, the apparent simplicity of a raspberry and lavender dessert belies meticulous foundations: perfect fruits, seasoned juice, infused cream and a zingy gel.

If you don’t opt for one of the matched drinks flights, then 30-odd pages of all-natural and often unusual wines offer a compendious delight for those with a Mastermind 'specialist subject' interest. There are superlative choices in all categories, but markups are on the ferocious side. The sommelier offers ready advice and the unlisted, daily-changing wines by the glass are well-chosen – even if a measure of trust is expected when it comes to price and style.

Bespoke Savile Row tailoring and Churchill shoes aren’t obligatory, but you can expect a frosty reception if you turn up at Wiltons in jeans and a baseball cap. For some, this male-dominated bastion of high decorum and velvety luxury is an archaic curio; for others, it is a sheer heaven: ‘Service was impeccable, the room temperature perfect, the tables immaculately laid with fine cutlery on linen, the noise levels subdued. I really was in food paradise.’

The menu is blue-blooded British by persuasion, but with strong European allegiances and a few seasonal variations. Wiltons began life as a shellfish stall in the 18th century, and its history dictates that seafood is king here – which means briny molluscs and crustacea from British waters, smoked salmon carved to order, voluptuous grilled turbot on the bone, and the occasional modern idea such as Cornish cod with onion squash, salt cod and seaweed. Otherwise, seasonal game is a must for those who love the fleshy thrills of grouse, mallard or slow-braised venison with chestnuts, quince and salsify.

Prices are sky-high, although a lunchtime set menu provides blessed relief for those on more limited budgets: at its heart is the carving trolley loaded with gargantuan roast joints ranging from honey-glazed gammon or rack of Blythburgh pork to rolled sirloin of beef – ‘so tender and full of flavour’. There’s no stinting when it comes to the number of slices you’re given, and it’s worth the extra outlay for sides such as creamy mash, spinach or celeriac purée. Your choice of dessert will be determined by the season: a sensational Pimm’s jelly in summer, perhaps; Wiltons’ legendary bread and butter pudding in winter. The wine list is heavy with vintage clarets and Burgundies from the great years at intimidating mark-ups – although fine drinking is assured.