26 restaurants with waterside cool
Published 13 June 2023

Tucked behind Root on the first floor of Cargo (Bristol's shipping-container foodie mecca), this chipboard-clad micro-eatery has more than doubled its covers since converting its terrace to an outdoor dining area. Although you can no longer perch at the pass, all 14 of the indoor seats are close enough to see the sweat on chef Elliott Lidstone's brow as he turns out classic, refined modern food from his cupboard-sized kitchen. Front-of-house duties are cheerfully overseen by partner Tess and regulars are enthusiastic about the 'passion' and 'love' that goes into every aspect of this small, independent business. Unless you go for the excellent-value, seven-course 'unwritten' tasting menu (£55), there's a limited choice of seasonal dishes, all of which focus on what's best to eat right now. An early autumn visit might involve a starter of charred hispi cabbage, smoked trout and lemon butter, perhaps followed by hake with borlotti beans, yellow courgettes and sumac or immaculately cooked breast of duck with wild rice, autumn greens and brilliant little flavour bombs of punchy pickled turnip. Puddings usually include the 'legendary' vanilla panna cotta (a favourite with regulars), adorned on a recent visit with caramelised figs and Pedro Ximénez. The drinks list offers far more choice – where do they store the bottles? – with a focus on organic and sustainable wines and plenty by the glass. While there's no charge for the deliciously crusty home-baked bread and carafes of sparkling water, the bill does contain a £1 donation to a regularly changing local charity.

The prospect of chilling out on a hugely desirable decked terrace by the river Cherwell makes this enchanting Victorian boathouse one of Oxford’s great delights – and that’s before you factor in its glorious wine cellar and the added temptations of punting on the water. Dating from 1904, this beloved institution is also a good shout for capably handled food with noticeable English and French accents. Nothing is overplayed here, but the kitchen comes up with subtly creative ideas to match the seasons. Eating alfresco in summer, you might indulge in a bowl of gazpacho with watermelon or Cornish mackerel with sauce pipérade ahead of Cotswold chicken breast with samphire, tarragon and pea fricassée. Come winter, other treats await those who congregate in the dining room – an affable blend of wooden floorboards, bare beams and white tablecloths. Openers such as venison fritters with Parmesan purée and crispy kale might precede guinea fowl adorned with a festive harvest of walnut purée, wild mushrooms, roasted Brussels sprouts and bone marrow jus. For afters, hot chocolate pot with passion fruit is a perennial favourite – although you might prefer local strawberries with elderflower custard or tarte tatin with Calvados ice cream, depending on the calendar. For many, however, it’s all about the superlative wine list, an all-embracing compendium stuffed with mouthwatering global selections ranging from Old World aristocrats of high pedigree to the most fashionable young contenders. Mark-ups are kind, with selections from the 'shortlist' starting at £19.75 (£5 for a standard glass).

Combining the virtues of a deli and informal restaurant (open from breakfast onwards), this ‘genuinely lovely place’ makes the most of its spacious location at the bottom end of Liverpool’s waterfront. Now boasting a sparkling new extension, it’s a versatile place for bigger groups and families. You can arrive via the deli or head directly into the restaurant where there’s a mid-century feel to the decor: plain dark-wood tables, striking pale-green upholstered seating and banquettes as a room divider, plus a bar running almost the full length of the venue.

A printed menu with sandwiches and sharing deli platters shows the way during the day, with eclectic, globally inclined specials chalked up on several boards. Fish dishes receive plenty of plaudits from readers, Sunday roasts are ‘amazing’, and the kitchen’s repertoire also extends to the likes of warm goat's cheese with honey and rosemary on sourdough, confit duck with white bean and pancetta cassoulet, steaks with chunky chips, and exotic ideas such as khorest gheimeh (a Persian stew of lemony split peas with roasted courgettes, peppers and wild rice).

To finish, expect classics such as fruit crumble with custard or bread and butter pudding. Service is friendly, efficient and down to earth. As for drinks, there are lots of speciality beers, plus some aptly chosen wines taken from the lower price points of the deli selection (an excellent Vinho Verde, perhaps).

Swans in the middle of Manchester! Who would have thought? But Flawd is on the New Islington Marina, a network of canals and water basins now home to barges and wildfowl, new apartments, green spaces and walkways. The feel is Dutch or Scandinavian, enhanced by a fine-weather terrace. It’s a suitable setting for a contemporary bottle shop, wine bar and sharing-plate eatery of restricted size with a buzzy atmosphere, enthusiastic staff and a funky playlist. As soon as you walk in, you know it’s a place in which to have fun.

The blackboard menu changes regularly and features local and regional ingredients such as Lancaster smoked mackerel, Garstang Blue cheese and ‘big dollops’ of outstanding sourdough bread from neighbouring bakery Pollen. Charcuterie is from Curing Rebels in Brighton, however, although who cares about regional pedantry when it’s this good?

This place has pedigree, and it shows: flair and imagination define the largely plant-focused cooking, which goes big on flavour. Unctuous whipped split-pea dip might be paired with fermented kale or spring onions, while stewed autumn tomatoes are served with ‘nduja and garlic toast. Elsewhere, grilled romanesco is paired with goat’s curd and treviso (‘a deliciously earthy combo’), and assorted brassicas are heaped with autumnal chestnut mushrooms and topped with shavings of cured ox heart (like ‘poor people’s truffle’).

The word Flawd refers to an 18th-century term meaning ‘drunk’, which is fitting as they major on natural and low-intervention wines from small producers. It’s also a trick to disabuse drinkers of the perception that such wines are ‘flawed’. With a range of styles by the glass, it’s easy to delve into this brave new world – and if that lacks appeal, there’s also an excellent choice of craft beer. Note: there are no reservations and no desserts. A flaw, perhaps, but not a fatal one.

To its many returnees, Hambleton Hall is the very definition of country-house dining: a late-Victorian pile on a peninsula jutting into Rutland Water, with beautifully tended landscaped gardens and a brigade of front-of-house staff attuned to the gentilities, but without a trace of obsequiousness. Aaron Patterson has been cooking here for well over 20 years, but his menus still feel fresh and enticing, built on seasonal produce and with an emphasis on lightness. Early summer might see San Marzano tomatoes featuring in a starter with elements of gazpacho, including a little basil ice cream, ahead of jointed quail on seasonal greens with spinach tortellini and a fried quail's egg. Alternatively, you might begin with a terrine of heritage carrots with spiced carrot ice cream and coriander oil, before moving on to poached fillet of halibut with wild garlic, egg yolk purée and morels ('our fish dishes are served warm, not hot,' says a note on the menu). To conclude, the house take on tiramisu found one reporter discovering the limits of their tolerance for deconstruction, but a simple blackcurrant soufflé was an emphatic, featherlight triumph; also, don't miss Hambleton's 'walnut whip' with passion fruit marshmallow, if it's available. When it comes to wine, Hambleton doesn't rest on its laurels, so expect an extensive line-up of high-toned classics, 'wines of the moment' and Coravin glass selections.

Will Beckett and Huw Gott launched the first of their British steakhouses on a shoestring in Spitalfields in 2006. Since then, they’ve kept on expanding, even venturing as far afield as Chicago and New York Talk about coals to Newcastle! Their latest London opening, in a steel and glass pavilion on the water in Docklands may look like it's zoomed in from the future, but inside all is reassuringly ‘Hawksmoor’ (dark wood, green leather, staff in civvies).

The beef’s the thing: grass-fed, dry-aged, and handled with care; the larger cuts of T-bones and prime rib quickly disappear from the specials board. By way of accompaniment, the triple-cooked chips, Tunworth cheese mash, and anchovy hollandaise should come with a defibrillator. Alternatives to meat include a mass of charred romanesco with Graceburn cheese, peanuts and chilli that isn’t likely to convert their carnivore clientele; however, lobster with garlic butter and oysters with Scotch bonnet mignonette have a shot.

Hawksmoor's Sunday roast is also a feast not to be missed, built around a slow-roast rump of aged beef served with an assortment of classic accompaniments including lashings of bone-marrow and onion gravy (happily replenished). The wine list excels by the glass, and keeps bottles largely under a ton (small potatoes round these parts). Below decks, the 120-seat Lowback Bar delivers cocktails, music, po’boys, snacks and burgers. Fun.

You might think you’ve drifted into some idyllic Highland dreamscape as you catch sight of this reconfigured 18th-century ferryman’s cottage by Loch Fyne, with its adjoining boatshed, ospreys swirling around and ancient castle ruins looming in the distance. Inver can have that effect on people – and no wonder, given the sheer tranquillity of the spot and the owners' dedication to the craft of gastronomy. Pam Brunton (chef) and Rob Latimer have conjured something truly harmonious, attuned to the locality and utilising its seasonal bounty in wondrous ways. Buzzwords such ‘sustainability’ and ‘zero waste’ really do mean something here – just consider Pam’s ‘bread and butter broth’ (leftover sourdough ends soaked in an umami-laden brew with home-churned brown butter and yeast). Many ingredients are from the local terrain, the waters beyond Inver’s door and from a helpful band of artisan producers – including a horticulturally inventive, green-fingered neighbour known only as Kate. You can sample some of these delights from the lunchtime carte (a procession of seafood and game dishes) but dinner is the main event – a tasting menu of (nominally) six courses plus four opening salvos served on a tray in the lounge (a plump oyster anointed with sea buckthorn oil or a zingy ceviche-style pairing of razor clams and rhubarb, for example). Bigger dishes positively explode with local flavours – from a pairing of Loch Fyne scallops and langoustine with purple sprouting broccoli, tiny crispy potatoes and a sea-herb emulsion finished with blackcurrant-leaf oil to a four-part serving of organic pork (loin, collar, belly, sausage) with a pile of shaved celery and some pickled alexanders. Desserts are generally untroubled by fancy patisserie – slices of poached pear with a walnut and ginger ice cream, for example. It sounds like perfection, although feedback suggests that this highly personal set-up works best when the owners are in residence, overseeing every detail and bringing their ‘pared-back passion’ to proceedings. Even so, this is still a compelling venture with the bonus of an enlightened kids’ menu, ‘fancy’ homemade cordials and a compact but resourceful wine list. Accommodation is in comfortably appointed bothies and shepherds' huts, with breakfast goodies on the doorstep come morning.

The verdant expanses of Midsummer Common are within sight of this idyllically situated Victorian villa, while university rowers go through their strokes on the nearby river Cam. Inside, much of the serious gastronomic business takes place in a glass-roofed conservatory dining room, done out shades of grey with pastoral paintings on the walls, pretty posies on the tables and views of the walled garden from its windows – lovely when the sun is streaming through. Despite the unashamed Englishness of the setting, it feels very French, with a theatrical Champagne trolley doing the rounds and a brigade of ultra-formal staff taking care of the niceties. Meanwhile, a framed window gives diners tantalising glimpses of the kitchen in action. Chef-patron Daniel Clifford’s cooking resides in the loftier regions of modern haute cuisine, and his repertoire of dishes is delivered with such painstaking skill, artistry and precision – every tiny detail given full consideration. Meals now revolve around an expensive tasting menu (around half price at lunchtime) that reads like a roll call of Europe’s finest: a sorbet of Provence tomato with aged Parmesan, olive, pepper and speck ham; sautéed duck liver with Comté cheese and verjus; roasted Anjou pigeon alongside mushroom and chocolate purée, endive and sour cherry. There’s Alpine Tête de Moine cheese, too, with celeriac custard, grapefruit sorbet and truffle honey. Native British ingredients have their say, although the results generally come with luxurious embellishments – white chocolate and caviar sauce adding richness to a dish of slow-cooked Loch Duart salmon, for example. Clifford is also attuned to the seasons, which means strawberries in midsummer, naturally – perhaps in the ‘plant pot’ amuse-bouche offered with a complimentary glass of Krug Champagne or in a dessert with yet more fizz and creamy, summery elderflowers. France is also the main player on the 300-bin wine list; sommeliers will help you navigate its pages, although suggested wine flights are a failsafe option. Either way, expect to pay handsomely – even at the lower end.

When Ombra opened its doors by the banks of the Regent's Canal back in 2011, today’s gentrification was a long way off. Now this former retail site is custom-built for a taste of Venetian-style bacaro cool. Drop by on spec, have a drink and a snack with some fresh bread from the owners’ bakery Forno – whatever you fancy. It's the perfect setting with its edgy but wonderfully whimsical interior design, tinted floor-to-ceiling windows and heated terrace for alfresco socialising.

Chef Mitshel Ibrahim (ex-Clove Club) conjures up some rare inventions, taking his cue from the traditions of regional Italian small-plates grazing, but adding flavours that are all his own – how about Carlingford oysters topped with startling cherry mustard? As for his light and crispy crostino topped with the most translucent home-cured pancetta, it ranks as ’one of the singularly most delicious mouthfuls I have ever tasted,’ drooled an inspector.

Other prize nibbles might range from a ‘cauliflower mushroom’ (sparassis) with Calabrian chilli and egg yolk to cured mackerel tartare with fennel and blood orange, although you must leave room for some silky hand-rolled pasta. Tagliatelle with well-judged anchovy butter and a generous amount of shaved truffle is a ‘triumph of less is more’, while crab tortelloni with crab ragù and hen of the woods brings delicacy as well as flavour to the table.

The menu also includes a couple of heftier ‘secondi’ too (a show-stopping dish of melting sweetbreads in perfectly balanced pea and mint velouté, say), while classic ‘dolci’ could herald panna cotta with poached pears or chestnut and roasted quince semifreddo. Since ‘ombra’ is Venetian dialect for a weeny glass of wine, it’s no surprise that drinkers have a ‘really interesting’ choice of Italian low-intervention tipples to sample. There are cool spritzs and aperitifs too.

Opened on Bristol’s waterfront Cargo development in 2017, this 'restaurant in a shipping container' may be starting to show its age (in good weather, the terrace is the place to be), but Root still delivers fresh creativity on the plate. Part of Josh Eggleton’s Pony Restaurant Group, it offers an ever-changing seasonal menu of vegetable-led small plates – although there are always a couple of fish and meat choices, say butterflied red mullet with Isle of Wight tomatoes and saffron aïoli. 

A recent meal kicked off with a simple plate of crudités, elevated by the presence of sparklingly fresh raw vegetables, punchy pickles and a delicious cashew and seaweed dip. Light and fluffy gnudi-style ewe’s curd dumplings are a Root signature dish and rightly so; the accompanying braised greens had great flavour, accentuated by tart and fragrant preserved lemon. By contrast, Wye Valley asparagus with peas, broad beans, radish and cider shallots was spring personified in one fresh and invigorating assemblage. A beautifully made honey and brown butter tart brought the meal to a satisfactorily sweet conclusion. The wine list offers 25 choices, with eight available by the carafe. The emphasis is on natural viticulture, but with enough organic and biodynamic options to please the wider wine-drinking audience. 

With founding chef Rob Howell having relocated to the sister Root in Wells, we couldn’t completely dismiss the nagging feeling that the Bristol original is now something of a poor relation. In addition to the interior’s wear and tear, service was somewhat inattentive and there was a general lack of excitement about the experience. Nevertheless, there is still plenty to love about Root, and it remains a Bristol stalwart.

Sam Harrison’s ‘wow factor’ brasserie has quickly become a local institution, where friends are cherished and first timers are welcomed with arms open wide. It's joyous, buzzy, unpretentious and a godsend for the neighbourhood – especially as the man himself and his wonderfully accommodating staff help to create that special frisson of ‘show and anticipation’. The glorious setting by the river ‘feels a million miles from central London’, while the airy, clean-lined dining room (lots of light and glass) emanates an invitingly civilised glow. There’s also a much-in-demand outdoor terrace and a ‘spectacular’ bar – don’t miss the ‘oyster happy hour’. As for the cooking, seasonality rules and the kitchen is big on provenance, supporting local suppliers and the community (‘they even use ingredients from a farm on a nearby inner-city school,’ observed one fan). The result is a rolling roster of refreshingly straightforward but creative dishes noted for their bold, up-front flavours. Seafood platters go down a storm, but also expect anything from mussels with ‘nduja, spring onion and samphire to lamb rump accompanied by potato terrine, purple sprouting broccoli and wild garlic. Devotees of cheeseburgers, spatchcock poussin and lobster rolls won’t be disappointed, while those who are sweet of tooth can delight in desserts such as buttermilk panna cotta or rhubarb pavlova with lemon curd. Sam’s set menu is one of the capital’s bargains and locals descend in their droves for the terrific Sunday lunch blowout. There are also ‘special wines to discover’ from a well-chosen list offering affordable access and a decent selection by the glass. 

An 18th-century stone-built watermill not far from Fakenham on the river Wensum, Sculthorpe has been reborn as a modern-day pub with rooms in the capable hands of sister act Caitriona and Siobhan Peyton. It's a smart pick for an outdoor summer lunch, but makes an equally appealing impression indoors, too, where a whole bundle of dining spaces, upstairs and down, look freshly minted in shades of yellow, blue, green and red.

Chef Dominic Aslett's food is unapologetically hearty, starting perhaps with potted duck, served with pickled cherries and toasted walnut bread, or grilled local asparagus in truffled mayo with a precision-timed soft-boiled egg. The chef also keeps a watchful eye on the clock when it comes to premium rump steak, which arrives with darkly fried chips, a little béarnaise (no refill, disappointingly) and ranch-dressed gem leaves, while our crisp-skinned Norfolk Black chicken breast in spring vegetable broth (broad beans and peas) was good and tasty – even if its relish of tarragon aïoli dissolved into the broth so quickly, we thought we might have imagined it. Fish could be sea trout with wild garlic hollandaise, or roast cod with orzo and chilli, while the show-stopping sharing dishes might take in lamb shoulder with braised haricot beans and fennel. 

To finish, there might be tarte tatin, or creamy rhubarb and elderflower trifle scattered with toasted almonds. And speaking of rhubarb, some of its distinctive flavour found its way happily into our Negroni. Wines are an enterprising, well-chosen bunch at mostly manageable prices, and there is London-brewed Lucky Saint IPA on tap, for the alcohol free brigade.

Back in the day, Jeremiah Colman and his people milled mustard within the white weatherboarded walls of Stoke Mill. Now, bar some monochrome pictures of generously bearded Victorian men, and the river Tas still flowing through on its way to Norwich, there’s little to remember that industry. The handsome building is busy in other ways, however, drawing a steady stream of appreciative diners into the contemporary, airy space to eat at Andy Rudd’s table – and be looked after by a warm and welcoming front-of-house team. Guests come for the chef/co-owner’s appealing bistro-style cooking, kicking off with complementary canapés and warm home-baked bread. Next, there might be a fluffy twice-baked soufflé, tangy with smoked Norfolk Dapple cheese (its richness balanced by spinach) or, perhaps, local asparagus with fried quail’s egg and hollandaise. To follow, try monkfish (lively with the flavours of Thailand) or sea bass with a generous crab croquette and zippy warm tartare sauce; alternatively, you could honour history with braised beef cheek accompanied by Colman’s mustard mash. Finish with a cheerful lemon posset – a deliciously sharp discovery as you spoon through passion-fruit foam and sorbet, fresh blueberries and pieces of meringue to reach the set cream itself. An excellent-value set lunch offers three courses for £38, including a glass of house wine and coffee.

The setting has been delighting diners since before Britain was quite done with post-war rationing, and could hardly be more of a tonic to the senses. Loyal locals and London escapees still flock to the outdoor terrace by the Stour for unhurried lunchtimes and light evenings. The Talbooth does things in the old-fashioned way, garnishing a tartlet of West Mersea crab with avocado, serving asparagus in season and carving rib of beef at the table.

That doesn't preclude acknowledgements of traditions beyond the Anglo-French matrix, giving tuna the Japanese treatment with with wasabi crème fraîche, pickled cucumber and crispy nori, for example. At main course, halibut might be arrive coated in ‘nduja and served with tiger prawns and kale in beurre blanc, while venison loin appears with lightly curried pithiviers, mushroom purée, blackberry ketchup and gaufrette potatoes.

Some have felt that the system can be unyielding, as when a request for a chicken dish without garlic arrives simply denuded of its sauce, rather than with anything to replace it, or when the proffered petits fours are strictly off-limits to anyone who hasn't ordered coffee. Perhaps a steamed sponge pudding would help, one made with roasted figs, alongside butterscotch sauce and orange and cardamom ice cream. A good spread of wines by the glass opens a French-led list that's strong in the heartlands of Bordeaux and Burgundy.

It may only be a few miles from the brash lights of Blackpool but this remodelled 17th-century coaching inn beside the tidal river Wyre is light years away in style and atmosphere. There are tranquil views of the Fylde plain across to the Bowland Fells, and restaurant tables overlooking the river are always at a premium – although there is much more to engage both eye and palate here.

To the rear, a small garden-courtyard, edged by a deli, gallery and jewellery shop, is festooned with painted bird houses, trees strung with coloured streamers and sequinned bunting. Inside, the decor is not so much quirky as idiosyncratic, with an eclectic collection of art and craftwork brightening up the bar and dining areas. It might not be to everyone’s taste but it’s fun and engaging.

On the whole, the food matches the setting, with a good selection of seasonal dishes served at wooden tables decorated with whimsical hand-blown glass mushrooms. The menu has serious French aspirations, and there's an emphasis on big, bold meat and game specialities such as local wood pigeon saltimbocca, braised pig's cheek tacos and grilled, stuffed lamb’s heart. Prissy it ain’t. The Gallic blow-out entitled 'premeditated gluttony’ needs to be ordered 48 hours in advance and features a ‘grands fruits de mer’ platter that has been described as ‘the best we have had anywhere in Britain or France.’

Concepts are contemporary but avoid falling down too many ‘creative’ rabbit holes – although on our latest visit it was the small things that let the side down (salty and oily potted hot-smoked trout, for example). Our daily fish special, however, was memorable: line-caught wild sea bass from Morecambe Bay, served with vegetables from the garden and a delicate lemony sauce. For afters, the choice might include banana parfait choc ice with hazelnut praline and goat's milk caramel or a ‘croissant’ bread and butter pudding embellished with roasted peach, while the enterprising wine list is noted for its global spread, fair mark-ups and by-the-glass selection.  

Just on the other side of the ancient bridge over the river Teme, this busy inn has been a stopping point for travellers for centuries. Try to secure a table by the window – the view of the river, with its attendant ducks and geese is utterly beguiling, as is the roofscape of the vibrant old town that rises from the far bank. Run by Cedric Bosi, younger brother of the much-lauded Claude (of Hibiscus and Bidendum fame), the kitchen turns out some pretty good food. The mainly British menu does allow the odd French slip: a Scotch egg, cooked to runny-yolk perfection, is encased in merguez-style sausage; a fish soup is delivered complete with rouille and Gruyère; a café gourmand comes with a very French range of petits fours, including chocolate opera cake and delicate macarons. But locals are just as likely to order fish and chips or a fully loaded burger from the chargrill, considering that 'this is the best and most relaxed way to eat out in Ludlow at the moment'. Staff are happy to bring a pint through from the pub, but the restaurant focus is on the reasonably priced wine list.

One of the smallest towns in England, well-heeled Stockbridge is charming – and the ancient Greyhound is the perfect inn to match the surroundings. From the mind-your-head beams, wood burners in inglenooks, bare wood floors and tables to the evening candles, soft lamplight and a please-all menu, there’s plenty to entice. Its location – the front overlooking the broad High Street, a garden at the back by the Test (Hampshire’s finest chalk stream, complete with half a mile of fishing rights) – is a prime draw whatever the season, visitors coming for food that comforts rather than challenges. In the kitchen, Phill Bishop looks to the locality for ingredients but also mixes up influences in a true modern British way: New Forest asparagus tart with cashew-nut houmous and avocado rubs shoulders with cured Test trout and scallop ceviche served with rhubarb, elderflower and pickled ginger, or there could be new-season lamb cutlets with crispy cannelloni, artichoke, wild garlic and glazed carrots. To finish, poached pineapple with coconut biscuit, lime purée, mint, rum and coconut sorbet makes a big closing statement. Welcoming, efficient staff are dedicated to doing things well. In addition to the carte, the prix fixe is particularly good value, as is the serviceable list of mainly European and English wines, which starts at £24.95. 

As befits a constituent part of the Duchy of Lancaster Estate, this grand old inn is a suitably substantial prospect. It has also been refreshing weary travellers since the 18th century, so you are in experienced hands. These days, a sensitive touch with modernisation has produced a dining room that looks over the kitchen garden and the meandering river Hodder. Jamie Cadman is comfortably into his third decade at the stoves, overseeing menus of modern pub food that deliver plenty of flavour, with generous helpings of Lancastrian ingredients underpinning the repertoire – from moorland game and beef reared on nearby Burholme Farm to smoked salmon cured over oak and alder chippings by Giles, the local fishmonger. To start, black pudding is a regular contender, perhaps added to a ham hock terrine or served as a warm salad with smoked bacon, chorizo and salsa verde. As a main course, the Whitewell fish pie is a majestic assemblage of poached haddock and prawns, flashed under the grill to bubble up its Cheddar topping, while slow-roast local lamb might turn up in Gallic garb alongside roast garlic mash, braised lentils, fine beans and pancetta. The day's desserts tend to be old dependables along the lines of treacle tart, sticky toffee pudding and millonaire's shortbread. Imbibers will be pleased to learn that the inn is also renowned for its ambitious wine list, which is arranged by style and accompanied by genuinely helpful tasting notes; the by-the-glass selection is rounded out with a small spread of French poshos from the Coravin.

Only a handful of London restaurants can genuinely claim to be ‘iconic’, and this glamorous spot on a Hammersmith backstreet is one of them. Launched by Ruth Rogers and the late Rose Gray in 1987, the River Café’s mission was to bring the seasonal pleasures of artisan Italian cuisine to the capital. It may be approaching middle age, but this is still ‘one cool restaurant’, frequented by a well-heeled, fashion-conscious crowd who love to eat (and be seen) here. The dining space is filled with light and luminous colours (sea blue, bright yellow), there’s cafeteria-style seating and an open-plan kitchen with a wood-fired oven, while a shiny zinc bar brings you close to the action. Topping it off, an outdoor terrace with a view of the Thames is the perfect summery spot. As for the food itself, everything depends on impeccable supplies from Italy and nearer home, all attuned to the calendar. The culinary approach may be understated but ingredients are treated with the utmost respect, as in a plate of fabulously sweet, split and wood-roasted Scottish langoustines paired with garlic and parsley. Some once-thrilling ideas now seem commonplace (chargrilled squid with red chilli and rocket, for example), but others still create a special magic: a dish of hearty softened cannellini beans with summer girolles, parsley and a slice of crostino could have come straight from a Tuscan farmhouse, while properly gamey wood-roasted Yorkshire grouse (bang in season) with crispy Tuscan-style roast potatoes and a jus laced with a generous splash of Brunello di Montalcino is rustic yet sophisticated. No corners are cut here – even the wine used for cooking comes from renowned estates. For dessert, there are classics aplenty, from the sumptuous and much-copied chocolate nemesis to a citrussy Amalfi lemon tart. Service is charming to a fault, although all this fame and legacy can cost a small fortune: depending on your financial status, it can seem ‘reassuringly expensive’ or downright pricey. And you will need to nurse your bank balance if you plan to indulge in the wine list – a mighty tome packed with Italian gems (including some stunning Super Tuscans) as well as classy Champagnes. Thankfully, around 25 by-the-glass selections (from £13) help to ease the burden. 

Off the beaten track, and not an easy place to find, this 16th-century half-timbered building stands on the banks of the river Lugg, positioned by an old stone bridge on the Mortimer Trail (a 30-mile walking route from Ludlow to Kington). Inside, a warren of heavily beamed rooms with wonky floors and open fires provides nooks for a quiet tête-a-tête and separate spaces for louder crowds or those with their four-legged friends; the terraced garden comes into its own on fine days. Service is friendly and welcoming. In the kitchen, Andy Link and his team take sustainability, ethical sourcing and food miles seriously, seeking out the very best that the region has to offer from local farms and artisan suppliers, backed up by their own kitchen garden (and their own hens). We noticed that lunchtime regulars tended to favour the perfectly cooked rare-breed Herefordshire steak sandwich with truffle chips, but we enjoyed a light meal of crispy garlicky Herefordshire snails with truffle mayo, followed by eye-catching river trout cured in beetroot and local Chase gin, plus a delightful poached pear accompanied by a scoop of assertive blue-cheese ice cream to finish. Many other items have been singled out for praise, from a generous piece of grilled and lightly caramelised cod served on a pile of peas and mangetout with a lovely lovage sauce to a dish of chicken with courgettes, garden chard and wild herb pesto that 'had some body’. For afters, readers have endorsed the nettle cake and the rhubarb purée with 'custard mousse'. A good chunk of the decently priced wine list is vegan or vegetarian – though given the impressive ethos of the place, there are surprisingly few English offerings.

In 2013, chef-patron Andrew Pern (of the much-garlanded Star Inn, 20 or so miles away in Harome) snapped up a derelict water pumping station by the river Ouse and added another restaurant to his portfolio. He attached a contemporary, glass-fronted extension and a spacious terrace to the Grade II-listed building, and with views across the river, there is nowhere better on a balmy day. Indoors, the 130-cover dining room is equally inviting with generous tables, velvet banquettes and characterful vintage lampshades.

Pern's aim is to bring ‘a little taste of the countryside to the city’ with the help of a seasonally changing menu: North York Moors game sausage with truffled mash; venison and beef-shin terrine; confit duck leg and duck parfait; Yorkshire Wolds chicken with fondant potato, wild garlic and pink peppercorn jus. The menu is largely meat-focused, though there is fish from the coast such as a fillet of stone bass on buttered leeks with mussels and a lovely ‘scallop’ of thinly sliced, battered and deep-fried potatoes. To finish, keep it local with Yorkshire rhubarb and almond tart or Whitby rum and York honey panna cotta.

As a seasoned restaurateur, Pern has all bases covered here – from a substantial wine list, classic and ‘zero’ cocktails, weekend breakfasts and special dinners to a children’s menu and some of the best Sunday roasts in the city.

'Unique, authentic and elaborate,’ this ‘restaurant avec chambres‘ has always been about keeping it in the family. Founded by Michel and Albert Roux in 1972, it’s currently in the safe hands of Michel’s son Alain, who has presided over the place since 2002 – although there has been a significant change of dynamic in the kitchen of late, with Fabrice Uhryn promoted to executive chef. Refined haute cuisine in all its gilded finery is the order of the day, and readers confirm that the results are ‘unflashy, clever, skilled and perfect' in every way.

Impeccable ingredients of rare quality are treated with a respectful sense of occasion: the langoustine soufflé is a winning opener, served with a truffle-scented cassolette of langoustines, or you could marvel at the seasonal splendour of white asparagus stuffed with creamed morels and finished with an almond and mint sabayon. Among the main courses, tender grilled rabbit fillet presented on celeriac fondant with a rich Armagnac sauce and candy-sweet glazed chestnuts had one recipient reaching for the superlatives, while cuisine ancienne is given full rein when it comes to whole braised Dover sole accompanied by lobster mousseline, asparagus tips and a voluptuous Champagne and chive sauce.

Occasionally, the kitchen steps out of its Gallic comfort zone, but it's back to the home country for a flurry of intricately fashioned desserts. Alain Roux is a master patissier by trade and his confections range from a fabulous rhubarb mousse to a dark chocolate délice flavoured with lime, citrus tutti-frutti and pomelo sorbet. Service is correct in every detail, but it’s also ‘approachable, knowledgeable and friendly’. 

Of course, all of this may cost you a king's ransom – especially if you deep-dive in the vintage treasures of the aristocratic, Francophile wine list – but who could resist the serene willow-shrouded riverbank, the ‘absolute cosiness’ of the main salon or the seductive Gallic charm of it all.