24 top spots for an ice cold martini
Published 30 June 2025

First find your restaurant. With very little signage and a hidden square to negotiate, diners are unlikely to eat here on a whim; a visit is booked in advance and eagerly anticipated. Billed as an ‘experimental’ venture from Alex Claridge and the team behind the Wilderness, the neutral toned space follows current fashion: no distinction between the fully open kitchen and the dining room; hard surfaces (wall, floor, kitchen counter) and 14 unyielding counter stools providing close-up views of the action – namely the preparation of what is primarily a multi-course, Japanese-inflected seafood tasting menu.

Service is warm and welcoming, but it pays to give careful attention to the announcement of each dish – no menu is offered until you leave. And it’s all effortlessly modern. A tartlet of mackerel is infused with a hint of heat from jalapeño, while slivers of wild, line-caught sea bass are enlivened with a whisper of smoke and seaweed, and the sweetly acidic flavours of yuzu vinegar – just the sort of bite-size morsels one wishes came in a serving of 10. Dishes are inventive but restrained, classical yet able to embrace broader influences: take a simple layering of brown-crab custard with finger lime, apple, white crabmeat and a few leaves of oxalis or a translucent roundel of lightly cured Cornish cod, wrapped in autumn truffle and served in a hot-smoked bone broth with yeast butter and egg yolk.

Each flavour blends tantalisingly with the one preceding it, so a plump, sweet scarlet prawn in a delicate, chilli oil-infused broth (made from the head) might be followed seamlessly by hamachi poached in brown butter with a dashi, sesame and ginger-based broth. Wines are chosen with the food firmly in mind, but given the lack of menu information, wine matching (or tutored advice from the sommelier) seems a sensible way to proceed.

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.

*Hannah Hall (ex-The Pearl at Park Hill) has taken over as head chef, with Ronnie Aronica moving to an executive chef role.*

Jack Wakelin, chef Ronnie Aronica and house baker Dan Ward are in expansive mood, but their original neighbourhood bar and restaurant in the Nether Edge district of the city is still on song, serving local ingredients with care and referencing the UK's current foodie scene – championing neglected cuts of meat, cooking with fire and adding some nuances inspired by Ronnie’s Italian heritage.

Menus shift with the seasons; in the early part of the year, that might mean sausage and romesco ragù on grilled bread, chalk stream trout with blood orange and sea herbs or smoked leeks with white beans and Gorgonzola. And if you’re in the mood for a slab of red meat, the kitchen can deliver a hearty grilled sirloin steak with pickled walnut and green peppercorn sauce. After that, keep things traditional and local with a serving of Yorkshire forced rhubarb and custard or strike out with lemon tart and Italian meringue.

Most of the action takes place around a polished slab of wood at the heart of the place (the titular ‘bench’), with an open kitchen counter and high tables offering views of Nether Edge’s street action outside. Staff are unfailingly helpful, exceptionally kind and attentive, without any airs or graces - ‘this is no pretentious interloper in humble Sheffield,’  as one regular noted. Readers are also quick to praise the inspired drinks offer, from ‘exquisitely crafted cocktails’ to ‘funky natural wines’ – all served in peak condition. 

A ‘very reliable’ Mayfair fixture since 1916, the self-titled ‘grand dame of Swallow Street’ is still shucking oysters with a vengeance under the stewardship of chef/patron Richard Corrigan. These days, regulars agree that its two great assets are the ground-floor Oyster Bar and the spacious gem of a terrace on Swallow Street itself (heated and covered for year-round bonhomie).

If you’re indoors, the best seats are indubitably at the marble-topped bar counter, where you can watch the chefs expertly flashing their thick-bladed oyster knives and doing the business on ‘natives’ and ‘rocks’ from places as far apart as Donegal, Oban and Jersey – although one fan reckons the Pembrokeshire specimens deserve a special mention. Otherwise, squeeze into one of the close-packed tables for a more formal and ‘extremely fresh’ piscine blowout – perhaps scallop ceviche dressed with jalapeño, mint and lime ahead of Dover sole meunière or pan-seared turbot with olive-oil mash and langoustine sauce.

Readers have praised the impeccable Cornish fish stew packed with myriad different species in a tomato and saffron broth, although you can also feast on classics such as fish and chips, fish pie and Bentley’s handsome shellfish platters. Pudding might be crème caramel with Armagnac-soaked prunes or a bitter chocolate mousse embellished with cherries, gold leaf and amaretto. The classy fish-friendly wine list is priced for Mayfair’s big spenders, although it does offer some excellent bargains by the glass.

It feels only right that the Blacklock group's first port of call as it heads into regional orbit should be Manchester, where thoroughbred meat cookery has become a speciality. Housed in the cavernous basement of a former textile mill on Peter Street, the ambience calls up the city's industrial past, but with candle-flames, soft leather seating and smiling staff to give the exposed brickwork and cast-iron pillars a gentler feel.

Followers of the London venues will find a comfortingly familiar ring to the menus, which open with protein snacks such as potted meats with kimchi to prime the appetite. A fully loaded steak sarnie makes a more satisfying lunch than a supermarket sub, as does a whopping double cheeseburger, its onions caramelised in vermouth. Blackboard menus give notice of the cuts of the day, and you can see them being crossed off as they are snapped up. Vintage Blacklock irons grill the chops to blushing pink for skinny cuts of pork rib and lamb T-bone, while the fat-marbled steaks are fully matured for 55 days.

The ‘all in’ sharing deal is a mound of chops, piled on chargrilled flatbreads, but leave room for beef-dripping chips and perhaps a superfood side-order of broccoli and walnut salad. Sauces, charged extra, run the gamut from chilli hollandaise to the richly nutritious house gravy. The undoubted appetite challenge of it all extends to a ‘say-when’ dessert of white chocolate cheesecake, served straight into bowls at the table.

Blacklock is also famed for its nostalgic Sunday lunch. Whole joints are roasted the old-fashioned way and the revelling continues through the day – be warned, bookings are at a premium. If you're in a group, order the ‘all in’ offer of three different meats with sides, veg and limitless gravy. Wines on tap include the big reds that this food will mostly need.

Hebden Bridge has always been a hotbed of laid-back cafés and cake shops, but a chic, boho wave has rippled through the stone-built town centre of late: one well-travelled visitor almost felt their compass needle juddering towards Hoxton. That said, the town is still Yorkshire through and through, and here is a place that suits it to a nicety – ‘unfailingly reliable, unerringly delicious, unremittingly relaxed … and brilliant value, too’.

It helps to pronounce Coin in the French manner, as it's on a corner site – a flatiron wedge of a building that was once (what else?) a bank. The decor also lends itself to that high-end vibe, with exposed brickwork, ironwork and plenty of space between the wooden tables. Young, casually dressed waiting staff are a delight, and are efficiently on top of their game.

An inspired and ever-changing sharing menu has plenty of modern brasserie energy, opening perhaps with a clutch of Lindisfarne oysters with lemon and Tabasco or a plate of yellow fine beans, Isle of Wight tomatoes, potato and capers. Wandering into the more robust precincts of the repertoire, one might stumble on gammon with new season’s leeks braised in Sheppy’s cider, while side orders of crispy Maris Peer potatoes with tomato salsa or puffed choux chips dusted in finely grated Parmesan should definitely not be passed up. There are also plates of excellent artisan charcuterie and cheeses (served with quince jelly and a Sevilla cracker). Classic desserts major on set creams and custards.

Fondue Sundays with Bloody Mary chasers sound like fun, likewise the adventurous list of low-intervention wines. In short, ‘Coin has the character, quality and consistency to keep drawing you back… whether it's just for a vermouth, a glass of wine or a long lazy meal with friends’.

Occupying the ‘bow end’ of the astonishing boat-shaped One Chamberlain Square building overlooking Birmingham Town Hall, this branch of Dishoom is nothing if not eye-catching. Inside, its take on a Bombay’s classless Irani cafés also pays homage to that city’s Swadeshi Market with all sorts of exhibits, paraphernalia and archive material – or you can enjoy priceless people-watching from the vast outdoor terrace.

Roll up early for buttery maska buns with hot chai or a chicken kathi roll, lunch on a couple of small plates (perhaps a pau bhaji or a chicken and mango salad), or feast on tandooris and grills such as the ‘perfectly spiced’ masala prawns. These share the billing with various ‘Ruby Murrays’, mutton pepper fry and the house special – in this case Goan monkfish curry strewn with curry leaves.

Of course, you can always go down the traditional curry-house route (spicy samosas and light bhel puris followed by a ‘succulent’ chicken biryani) but feedback suggests that this is less rewarding and far less fun than hands-on sharing. To finish, opt for something sweet and soothing such as a creamy kulfi. Drinkers are also spoilt for choice, with a bewildering array of cocktails, sodas, international wines and esoteric beers (one fan recommends the Dishoom IPA, ‘a very worthy and refreshing brew’).

Drinks List Of The Year 2024

After two decades cooking in such respected Brighton restaurants as the Coal Shed, the Salt Room and Gingerman, Dave Mothersill has set out his own stall. And what a stall it is. Located close to the Royal Pavilion, this contemporary eatery – mirrors, modernist tables and chairs, parquet floors – delivers cooking that soars far beyond standard bistro fare. Mothersill draws on childhood memories, family and his own travels to create epic set menus peppered with dishes ranging from a jewel-like raw Orkney scallop with ponzu and yuzu, preserved rhubarb, horseradish/elderflower sorbet and peppery marigold leaves to a classy, marshmallow-soft Selim pepper meringue with rhubarb, buckwheat crumble and rhubarb granita. Each course yields vivid flavours, on-point cooking and artful presentation, the ingredients unsurpassed – from line-caught sea bass (cooked just so) with fat asparagus, courgette, pea purée and a sauce of smoked sea bass bones, smoked butter, miso and mirin to pink, tender salt-aged Devon duck brushed with burnt honey and teamed with morels and a sauce made with duck offcuts, hazelnut and Kampot pepper. Seasonality is everything. A springtime creation of confit Jersey Royals, salted gooseberries, straw potato fries, smoked eel and Exmoor caviar, for example, delivers a comforting, clever and unpredictable take on the humble spud. Even the simplest sounding dishes exceed expectations – a feather-light, tear-and-share brown butter-glazed Parker House roll, perhaps, served with wild-garlic butter, or a velvety duck liver parfait topped with sweet, citrussy yuzu. This is cooking that rarely puts a foot wrong – top-grade dining without the stuffiness and pomp. The whole place is relaxed, vibey and cool, driven by staff who know the full story of every dish, from sourcing to plate. An international wine list matches the sophistication of the food, with some excellent local and natural pours catching the eye.

Leading down to Liverpool's Albert Dock, Brunswick Street feels like exactly the right location for the city's branch of the Hawksmoor group. Inside is as dramatic as this historic quarter demands, with an elegantly clubby feel, a glitzy cocktail bar that recalls the golden age of Art Deco, and light fixtures that once saw service on the streets of Paris. British beef and seafood are the twin leitmotifs, and readers are fulsome in their praise of the cheering atmosphere and the air of brimming generosity that pervades the cooking.

Before setting about the meats, perhaps limber up with a serving of smoked salmon and Guinness bread. Then it's on to the steak cuts sold by weight, up to the mighty bone-in prime rib, porterhouse and chateaubriand (best for two to share). Mix and match with classic sauces, including bone-marrow gravy or a roaring-rich Stichelton hollandaise. On-point seasonings enliven alternative mains such as charcoal chicken piri-piri with smoked chilli butter or roast hake with vinegared peppers and basil. Beef-dripping chips are the stars of a long list of sides that often feel halfway to mains in themselves: macaroni cheese, baked sweet potato etc.

The popular vote will probably go to puddings such as sticky toffee or chocolate and salt caramel tart, but there's also coconut and passion-fruit pavlova with coconut ice cream for something lighter. Sunday roasts draw effusive praise from readers, who rave about ‘melt-in-mouth beef, the world's best cauliflower cheese and Yorkshire puddings the size of my head’. Beef-friendly wines (from £11 a glass) are not of the cheapest, but there are plenty of inspired choices, and Hawksmoor's cocktails are the real thing. 

The line between experience and ordeal is a boundary routinely tested by the modern tasting menu. When the format soars, as it does here, it can be like a symphony. A recent addition to chef-patron Stuart Ralston’s Edinburgh mini-empire, Lyla occupies the townhouse site of the late Paul Kitching’s 21212. A profound sense of occasion lives on, and the standard of service is unimpeachable throughout as the team delivers Ralston's signature 10-course experience. 

Guests are swept upstairs to a beautifully appointed drawing room for Champagne and canapés, which may include an immaculately presented lobster croustade – a masterful balance of crisp, buttery pastry, sweet crustacean flesh and ruby cod’s roe. Expectations set, an enthusiastic introduction follows via the towering, glass-fronted ageing fridges. Downstairs, a sumptuous dining room awaits, blending into an entirely open kitchen at the rear. Bright linens against contrasting, dark drapes and precise, warm lighting give a calm, welcoming intimacy, with a stage-like view of the serene culinary theatrics occurring nearby.

To begin, a single, glorious langoustine is a fat thumb of perfectly sweet flesh, bound in golden threads of kataifi pastry, beautifully balanced by a tart apple ketchup and a salty hit of dried scallop roe. After that, a technically meticulous squid dish arrives masquerading as noodle soup – the flesh dried and pressed before being cut to fine ribbons and drenched in a dark, decadent alium broth. Desserts are equally impressive, and a closing salvo marries a thin, slightly saline, cherry-laced chocolate sponge with a sublimely fresh, bright meadowsweet ice cream. Again, the balance is impeccable, the result utterly sublime.

The star turn, however, is the duck, which we meet briefly before the now-bronzed creature is snatched away for carving. What returns is a flawless crescendo of a dish. The meat is pink and staggeringly succulent, the fat perfectly rendered, and the salty-sweet shard of cross-hatched skin tangy with plum from relentless basting, while a sunflower XO sauce delivers an elegant umami hit. It is scintillating, laborious and exacting to an almost absurd level, and a masterclass in anticipation.

Needless to say, the option of pricey matched wines is a given, though the wine list is well thought out and offers some degree of affordability. While some restaurants feel like a step on a journey to something more, this feels like Ralston’s destination. In Lyla, he has arrived at somewhere spectacular.

The Radford family’s follow-up to their Edinburgh flagship Timberyard shares its traits as a singularly stylish and occasionally esoteric place to eat. Perched at the top of Montrose Terrace, an all-white paint job had erased signs of its past life as a pansies-in-the-window pub and sets the tone for minimalist interiors, neutral tones and natural textures.

There are two ways to enjoy Montrose. On the ground floor, a warmly lit wine bar attracts an all-day crowd who come for the roster of light plates (sardines on toast, say) and the magnificent drinks list – a well of creativity, curated by Anna Sebelova and shared with Timberyard. Vermouths, liqueurs and bitters are all made in-house, while softs such as hibiscus and wormwood kombucha or the unusual savoury notes of Koseret tea keep things interesting for the abstainers.

Upstairs, chef Moray Lamb’s cooking gets a little more serious with a set menu of four courses (plus canapés and petits fours) for around £80. The atmosphere is more serious too, with space for just 15 diners, tables dressed in unbleached linens and light coming mostly from the dim glow of pillar candles – although a two-hour time allocation on tables puts Montrose at odds with its tasting menu compatriots elsewhere in the city.

Our winter visit began with a duo of superlative snacks (a delicate smoked eel doughnut, and a bite of choux au craquelin filled with Gubbeen cheese), while an opener of Shetland squid in a tangle of noodle-like strips felt more technically interesting than lovably delicious. A beautifully wobbly veal sweetbread blanketed in a silky Jerusalem artichoke sauce suffered from a hint of over-seasoning, but nothing could trump the triumphant savoury finale – pink-fleshed sika deer with sophisticated accompaniments including celeriac, pine and juniper.

The wine list is also a triumph – an oenophile’s tour of English and European viticulture, with the emphasis on organic and natural production. Choices by the glass are many and varied, but also look for bottles highlighted in ‘orange’. Overall, we found the service to be informed and amiable, if a little softly spoken at times. Our advice: save the moody refinement of the restaurant for an intimate occasion and revel in the buzzy fun of the wine bar as frequently as possible.

Now boasting a countryside setting to match the ‘wow’ factor of his cooking, Merlin Labron-Johnson’s second iteration of his wildly successful Bruton restaurant is already a proper destination. With four letting rooms now available, plus kitchen-garden tours and a purpose-built tea house in the pipeline, the ever-ambitious chef now affords guests the chance to immerse themselves in the wellspring of his farm-to-table philosophy: the British countryside and its abundant produce.

Looming stark and white in the green Somserset countryside, the new premises occupy a former country pub that has been both stripped back and dramatically extended. The plain walls and bare flagstone floor of the reception lounge, where aperitifs and the first amuse-bouche are served, give no clue to the architectural drama beyond. An almost theatrical space, the main dining area opens directly into the kitchen, housed in a giant glass box looking out across fields at the back. Ask to be seated here so that you can watch Labron-Johnson and his team calmly weaving their magic.

No menus are offered until the meal is finished, but your trust will be repaid by a series of snacks, palate cleansers, pre-courses and specialities that wring extraordinary flavour from the humblest of ingredients – just consider a limpid tomato tea with droplets of grass-green fig-leaf oil, or a clutch of French beans on a pillow of almond cream, accompanying lamb served three ways, each detonating like a flavour bomb in your mouth. Later courses might include a quenelle of melon sorbet in a delightfully refreshing pool of cucumber and shiso water with spruce oil, or churros with meadowsweet ice cream, blackberry compôte and surprisingly pungent marigold leaves. Optional supplements are also available, say a cheese course of Baron Bigod melted over fruit bread, topped with black truffle and drizzled at the table with honey from the restaurant’s own hives.

Excellent service comes courtesy of a small army of cheerfully enthusiastic and highly capable young staff who are happy to chat about suppliers they have visited or what’s growing on the restaurant's two organic smallholdings. The wine list has been greatly expanded, though it still focuses on low-intervention bottles from small producers. Wine pairings remain a good-value choice and are carefully explained by the charming sommelier. We suggest allowing several hours to enjoy the full experience, rounding off with a lazy coffee and digestif.

From the people behind Nether Edge’s excellent Bench, this no-bookings cocktail bar is every bit as chic as its concrete-and-couches interiors suggest. Highly inventive cocktails are Pearl's USP, with ingredients ranging from spent coffee to pea-pod cream, but you’re in safe hands. Drinks are fantastic value considering their quality, as are the ‘plates’ – seasonally changing dishes offering comfort food in its fanciest guise. There are chicken wings with harissa and lime, salted new potatoes with aïoli and interesting combos including tangy marinated mushrooms tangled up with a cured egg yolk and dill. Just add assorted beers and natural wines on tap. In summer, the terrace buzzes with drinkers enjoying the panoramic views over Sheffield.

Of all the multifarious eating and drinking opportunities in the heart of Soho, this ‘warmly welcoming’ little restaurant is one of the more compelling. Rita’s goes about its business with gusto, its popularity not surprising given the casual vibe, the warmth of the service and straight-to-the point modern American-style cooking. It’s not going to win any prizes for inventiveness – dishes tend to be simple assemblies built around seasonal British produce – but barbecued beef tartare with garlic, raw vegetables and lots of herbs, and a special of corn-crusted turbot served on a heap of courgettes and set in a puddle of herb butter – were good calls on a warm spring evening. Salt-fish taquitos have been praised, fried chicken parmigiana puts in an appearance, and flavours are ramped up with prime cuts and sharing steaks (order with ‘wrong way’ French fries). Desserts feature the likes of sunflower ice cream with caramel sundae, and the express lunch of, say, fried chicken roll, Caesar salad or eggplant panino is good value. Cocktails star alongside a European wine list stuffed with on-trend low intervention producers.

A fixture of dining out in the heart of the West End since the time of George III, Rules is now well into its third century of operations. It remains a gloriously unreconstructed monument to British ways of dining, coming into its own particularly during the game season. A diner who knows his birds regretted the seeming obsolescence of the grouse season these days, but was relieved to find a red-legged partridge on the bill of fare in September. A silver pint tankard of Black Velvet (Champagne got up in a sombre coat of Guinness, originally to mourn the passing of Prince Albert in 1861) makes for a satisfying entrée to the Rules experience.

Dishes that have slipped into the heritage category are treated as if they were still the acme of gastronomy – witness the steak and kidney suet pudding freighted with tender succulent beef and intensely flavoured offal (plus an oyster too, if you will), together with another silver vessel, this time a boat of extra gravy. Add sides of dauphinoise and creamed spinach, and satisfaction is complete.

Start perhaps with stuffed mussels replete with garlic and herb butter, topped with breadcrumbs, or one of the daringly modern salads – smoked ham, pomegranate and blood-orange, or beetroot, apple, walnut and blue cheese – the better to enjoy the richness to come. Main-course fish includes a salmon escalope napped with Champagne chive butter, but meat options tend to be the favourites: a ‘cassoulet’ made with rabbit, smoked bacon and black pudding, for example. Treacle tart and orchard fruit crumbles are de rigueur for afters, but flourless blood-orange and chocolate cake shows that not all passing trends pass Rules by.

A deeply traditional wine list opens with a Rhône red and a dry white Bordeaux by the glass. Service, from initial halloo to fond farewell, is impeccable throughout, while the decorative style (complete with glistening burnished wood, classical figurines, old prints and paintings) augments the atmosphere a treat. Be prepared, though, for a steep, narrow ascent to the bathrooms.

Despite the odd spelling, Skof implies a lip-licking, tummy-rubbing sense of enjoyment and a cheerful lack of pretension. Although the mood may be low-key, the food here is anything but casual. Housed in one corner of a Grade II-listed former warehouse, the restaurant combines exposed industrial brickwork, Victorian tiles and polished wooden floors with Japanese zen aesthetics. Having worked closely with Simon Rogan at L'Enclume, Tom Barnes has generated a city-wide buzz with his first stand-alone venture, which has been booked solid since day one. 

The format is tasting menus: four courses at lunch; 12-15 courses in the evening. Either way, be grateful for comfortable seating on leather banquettes or curved wooden chairs. Along one side are stools where diners are offered a ringside view of the cheffy action – a detail much appreciated by readers. The impeccable choreography behind the pass and out front is seamless. Staff are precisely drilled and well-informed, showing sensitivity to the needs of each diner with infectious enthusiasm. Barrow-born Barnes leavens a certain nostalgia for his Cumbrian home turf with big-city slickness and the (now inevitable) references to east Asian cuisine. His food is complex and intelligent, indulgent but restrained, displaying a confidence to explore textures and tastes with a light touch.

The opening salvos (starters, snacks, canapés – call them what you will) arrive in rapid succession but the down-in-one mouthfuls are stellar– Dexter beef bavette with black pepper and Delica pumpkin, for example. Among the larger courses, steamed West Coast cod with whey, tangles of Roscoff onion, slippery pieces of smoked eel and buttermilk seduced with its alabaster presence. The sauce was sharp and tangy enough to counter the smoothness of the fish and other components. Among the desserts, the prettiest that we sampled was apple poached in cranberry, woodruff cream, rose geranium and almond – as fragile as Minton porcelain. But pride of place should go to the super-delicious ‘Barney’s tiramisu’ – the chef's homage to his father’s recipe. He serves it at the table while telling the story himself. You want to hug him.

Barnes doesn't drink wine, so his sequence of fruit- and vegetable-based drinks to match each course is a genius idea. A libation of beetroot, blackcurrant, lapsang souchong and cocoa nibs was an extraordinary replica of a powerful red wine to complement a fine piece of roast Sladesdown duck breast, while a blend of fermented gooseberry, tarragon and hops gave a sherbet/yeasty dimension to a dish of caramelised King Edward potato (with Isle of Mull Cheddar, grilled leek and pickled walnuts). There's a conventional wine flight too, culled from a smart list.

At this pint-sized wine shop, bar and café, it was once a case of turning up and hoping, but an online booking system now ensures the avoidance of disappointment. And disappointed you would be if you were to miss the locally supplied menu on offer here. Start with smart nibbles of anchovy and ricotta crostini or the covetable air-dried mangalitza ham from Coombeshead Farm (with some Coombeshead sourdough on the side).

A spring visitor gasped at the deliciousness of St Eia's take on the classic rarebit, as well as Newlyn crab piled heftily on toast and served with cucumber pickle. Vividly dressed salads might mobilise Stichelton, pear, walnuts, quince and radicchio into a colourful assemblage, but heartier appetites are not neglected either –especially when platefuls of beef bourguignon and mash are at hand.

Neal's Yard cheeses are hard to resist in the context, but sweet things range from lemon posset to mincemeat frangipane tart with clotted cream. An excellent wine list embraces much from the biodynamic and skin-contact universe. A glass of something inspiring might tempt you to take home a bottle of it from the well-stocked shelves.

‘A very noteworthy addition to the Surrey dining scene,’ Starling references the namesake avian and its murmuration displays with copper-colour bird-in-flight pendant lights and an ornithological mural against a stylishly modern backdrop of half-panelled walls and blue padded booths. Staff are suitably ‘chirpy’ too, while ticking all the boxes for friendliness and well-oiled professionalism. 

Chef-patron Nick Beardshaw has a formidable pedigree, most notably as Tom Kerridge’s right-hand man, and his menus are peppered with ingredients from highly respected producers and suppliers. Boldly flavoured, perfectly executed snacks such as truffle cheese crumpets and honey-glazed chicken nuggets immediately set the tone before show-stopping starters have their say. Despite its rather gimmicky presentation, ‘A Moon-Shaped Pool’ (one of Beardshaw’s contributions to Great British Menu 2023) delivers some seriously gifted, thoughtful cooking involving a super-fresh, sweet Orkney scallop, luscious green Thai curry, ‘salty fingers’ and marinated cucumber.

Mains might bring bang-in-season English asparagus with punchy glazed morels and a perfect deep-fried egg nesting on a ring of soft polenta, or West End Farm pork tenderloin served with braised baby gem, a slice of malt-glazed pork cheek, dehydrated crackling, glazed shallot and gherkin gravy – a masterclass in balanced flavours, textures and seasoning. Prime steaks also receive serious consideration (including Freedown Hills olive-fed wagyu ribeye). To conclude, there might be an English strawberry sundae or Amalfi lemon tart, but it’s hard to resist Beardshaw’s much-lauded Banksy-inspired ‘Balloon Girl’ (another GBM standout), a heart-shaped raspberry-glazed cheesecake/chocolate torte hybrid represented the 'balloon', with white chocolate-coated rice paper depicting the image itself.

There's also an impressively good-value midweek lunch offer ranging from chalk stream trout pâté with a buttered crumpet to an exceedingly comforting plateful of Cotswold White chicken, soft polenta, peas and bacon. Wines served in top-quality glassware provide the final touch of class, with a cherry-picked selection of producers from around the globe and some appealing by-the-glass selections at fair prices. 

Opened without fanfare or PR bluster towards the back end of 2023, this slick New York Italian is the brainchild of former Soho House COO Martin Kuczmarski, a man who knows a thing or two about running restaurants. From the off, it looks absolutely fabulous, with swathes of Art Deco-inspired wood panelling, proper tablecloths and proper candlelight lending a radiant glow to proceedings. A vinyl soundtrack of 70s disco and soul keeps the good times rolling, although it never intrudes or ruins conversations across the table.

The menu is stuffed with the kind of comfort food that people just love to eat – from lobster rolls, mini hot dogs and bowls of Tuscan minestrone to textbook chopped salad and a raft of pasta classics (spaghetti with meatballs, hot penne arrabbiata etc). Burgers and ribeye steaks are present and correct too, as is ‘The Dover’ sole (suitably finessed with chilli, lime and samphire), while the beef arrosto with mash is up there with the dishes you’d find at the best trattorias in Florence. As expected, desserts hop from New York (baked cheesecake brûlée) to Italy (vanilla panna cotta with summer berries) – and if you fancy a Baileys Shakerato or an Italicus Sgroppino dessert cocktail, they’ll mix that too.

Pre-prandial sips at the bar are a must, and the wine list kicks off at around £40 a bottle, which is reasonable for this part of town. There's also no need to book if you fancy a drink and a snack at the bar out front. In short, this Mayfair hot spot offers some of the best hospitality in London right now, with a side order of irresistible food, in one of the capital’s most alluring dining rooms.

In 2022, Sam Pullan and his partner Nicole Deighton took over a long-deceased caff in a tucked-away corner off Briggate, turning it into an original and innovative restaurant. The revived Empire feels young and exciting although it's tiny, with room at street level for a smart little bar, where cocktails are shaken and they serve ‘the perfect Guinness’ against a backdrop of sparkling bottles and glassware, high stools and banquettes. You can eat here or in the windowless basement dining room, which may sound bleak but isn't: lamps on each table and Egon Schiele prints on the dark walls give it a cosy, welcoming vibe.

The constantly changing menu is made up of two halves (small or large plates) – perhaps a choux pastry éclair stuffed with duck liver parfait and finished with a sticky blood-orange glaze or pork pluma, cooked over charcoal and paired with a crunchy Lincolnshire Poacher cheese croquette and a lemon and treacle sauce. And whoever added tomato and crab ragù to a simple fried duck egg is onto something.

Roast chicken is the star of the show, turned on a giant rotisserie (billed as the ‘wall of flame’), with the fat and juices dripping down to ‘schmaltz’ the potatoes beneath. Choose whole or half, then pick your 'rub' and your ‘lather’ – perhaps smoked garlic and honey, or yuzu and ginger, or garlic, lemon and tarragon.

Pastel de nata has become an Empire signature, too. Freshly baked pastry cases filled with sweet custard are typically traditional, but they are lifted by the addition of Reblochon cheese plus a spoonful of roast chestnut purée on the side. Service is full of enthusiasm, and staff are great at talking everyone through the menu. 'A breath of fresh air for Leeds.'

Bang opposite Queensway station, the Park represents the triumphal return of Jeremy King to the London dining scene. Located on the ground floor of a new residential development, it's a warmly inviting space that wears its luxe touches lightly – a place that already feels like an old friend. Booths and banquettes in tan leather, torpedo light fixtures with a touch of Art Deco, colourful prints and wide-screen windows overlooking Hyde Park add up to a seductive ambience, which is further enhanced by a consciously retro menu.

All-day brasserie dining has always been the King thing, an accommodating mode at which his venues have always excelled. A line-up of American favourites – hot dogs, cheeseburgers, lobster rolls, chargrilled ribeyes with fries – sounds the populist note, but consider less obvious choices such as grilled swordfish with sweetcorn and bacon succotash or seared mackerel with caponata. First off, tear and share some soft and savoury ‘monkey bread’, before cruising on to the creamy, briny New England clam chowder. To follow, a golden-brown ham hock pie filled to capacity with pink meat, peas, fava beans and potato under crumbly pastry elicited high fives from one hungry visitor.

Don't stint on the wicked sweet stuff either, especially as the menu invites you to build your own sundae. Elsewhere, Mississippi mud pie has become a kind of dark chocolate cake topped with white chocolate, while the 'red velvet' is an eye-catching classic. Breakfast and brunch are sure to lure in the throngs, as will the neat Negronis – and if you like your wines Italian or North American (and there isn't much of the latter on restaurant lists these days), you've come to the right place. Sicilian house recommendations are £9 for a regular glass.

'A taste of Alpine cuisine, but better than restaurants in the Alps,' confirms a well-travelled reporter with a penchant for fighting talk, and if it seems a stretch from the rarefied peaks of central Europe to Manchester's Green Quarter, be assured that the spätzle, dumplings and filled pasta parcels have survived the journey intact.

Not the least reason the Spärrows has been such a firm local favourite of Mancunians is that there is so much going on here, from winemakers' lunches to sake tastings. It's in those perfectly rendered little parcels of happiness, though, that the culinary energy is focused. Spätzle or gnocchi come with a range of sauce options, from sage butter to guanciale and egg yolk, before the menu heads east for pierogi and pelmeni, with lashings of sour cream and garlic breadcrumbs to complement their richly meaty fillings. Sharing boards of cured meats, smoked fish or cheeses will hone the fastest-finger-first skills of a hungry bunch, and if it's the back end of the year, look to Tyrolese goulash with knöpfle and pickles to bring the love.

To finish, there is an estimable brownie attributed to 'Daz's wife' or carpaccio-sliced pineapple with sorbet, and what is probably the banker – cinnamon spätzle in a cloud of brown sugar. Alpine wines are on hand to suit the mood, and if you have previously thought of all Swiss whites as a cleansing mouthful of nothing in particular, you might find yourself thinking again.

The sense of almost mythological remoteness is accentuated as you head towards the west Wales coast, past the RSPB nature reserve, to the remarkable residence that is Ynyshir. Once owned by Queen Victoria, it has become one of the UK's foremost destination dining options thanks to Gareth Ward and his superlative kitchen and front-of-house teams. Ynyshir runs to its own agenda, with dozens of dishes over the space of four or five hours, requiring a level of concentration that will be amply rewarded with revelatory food rocking with stirring East Asian flavours, textures and temperatures. Bringing a singular atmosphere to the dark-walled dining room is a resident DJ, the now-famous glitterball and smoky theatrics from the embers of the evening's fire. There is a feeling that you might need to prepare for Ynyshir by forgoing solid sustenance for 48 hours, but our feedback files show how volubly people adore the novelty, the challenge and the sheer unadulterated fun of it all. And it is less relentless than it sounds: 'the tempo of the performance surges, then slackens and surges again, led by the music, and the fever-pitch deliciousness of some of the dishes,' our inspector noted. Wine picks are as original and as assertive as they need to be for the food, and are flexible enough to accommodate the gentler end of the spectrum.