31 places to enjoy art while you eat
Published 10 October 2023

A dark frontage punctuated by full-length windows reveals a spare-looking café-like interior, a narrow room with plain white walls and a constantly changing chalkboard menu – in short, Artusi is a ‘perfect neighbourhood restaurant’. Down some steps at the back, there is a chef's table for eight, with views of the open kitchen. This is Italian dining, Peckham-style, and none the worse for it.

The infectious straightforwardness of the approach is reflected in a dinner menu that offers three choices at each stage, with a couple of intervening pasta options. Start, perhaps, with a pretty plate of roasted fennel, Russet apples, ricotta and walnuts before moving on to cod with butter beans, purple sprouting broccoli and preserved lemon aïoli or braised featherblade of beef accompanied by confit garlic mash and cime di rapa. Don't want to miss the pasta? Ravioli di erbette (stuffed with wild greens, ricotta and sage) may well have your name on it. The Italian way with carbo-desserts then produces an irresistibly toothsome pistachio and chocolate cake with crème fraîche.

Lunch is a simpler affair (but similar in style), while Sunday brings a great-value set menu. Wines are not exclusively Italian, but those represent the best way of entering into the spirit. They've also got some oranged-up Sicilian Catarratto, if Pinot Grigio now seems a little vecchio cappello. A second outlet is now open at the Underbelly Boulevard in Soho.

Standing proud on the northwest Pembrokeshire peninsula, the Twr-y-Felin (Milltower) hotel was a working windmill when it was built in the early 19th century. It's now been restyled as a boutique hotel, with a sultrily lit dining room hung with an extensive collection of contemporary artworks.

It makes an apposite setting for the artfully conceived modern cooking of Sam Owen, where the distinguishing features are original combinations of quality ingredients and a fine sense of on-plate aesthetics. Solva crab is teamed with swede, chicken skin and chervil as one possible opener, to be followed perhaps by venison with game-friendly accompaniments in the shape of black pudding, beetroot and blackcurrant.

An alternative route might be to open with a serving of charred onion with hazelnuts, Parmesan and thyme, before heading seawards with monkfish and curried mussels, presented alongside parsnip and a sweetly biting caper and raisin purée. Savoury notes inform ingenious dessert compositions such as chocolate ganache with passion fruit, salted crumbs and banana/miso ice cream. Featured wines head up a list supplied by Justerini & Brooks that makes a commendable effort to find plenty of decent choice below £40.

Camellia Panjabi was one of the first restaurateurs in London to showcase, in a modern idiom, the many-splendid iterations of Indian regional cooking. This is upscale food that shines with glittery excitement and regal flavours in a glamorous setting. On arrival, you are engulfed in a wave of attention; some might feel a touch overwhelmed, but for others it’s a magic carpet ride to the glory days of the Raj. The cavernous interior is glitzy, glossy, lavishly crammed with gilt, crystal, shimmering lights, framed colonial prints, large artworks and etched glass.

The food is equally polished: dabba gosht was a creamy, nutty lamb stew; baked crab balchao served in its baking dish was gently spiced and topped with crispy breadcrumbs. Other small plates might include baked venison samosa or scallops in Mangalorean sauce. There is an Indian barbecue selection offering the likes of tandoori Amritsan sea bass or Afghani chicken tikka, as well as roster of slow-cooked dishes that includes 'Parsi wedding' duck, Bengal lamb curry and a delicious nut-thickened Karwan fish curry made with halibut. The waiting staff are happy to convey any request to modify the spicing back to the kitchen.

Desserts are equally wide-ranging within the national compass: dark chocolate and Punjabi rum tart, cherry shrikhand or perfect Persian kulfi, elegantly moulded like citrus segments and served on a silvery plate. The Sunday brunch is also worth noting, as is the Pukka Bar lunch. 

Getting to Glebe House is an adventure in its own right. A series of narrowing country lanes leads north from Seaton, diving about patchwork fields and rummaging through copses, before the house itself materialises – a whitewashed Georgian pile poised high on a grassy slope, set within 15 acres of grounds. Interiors are a study in contemporary country house cool (grandfather clocks and kilim rugs, Welsh dressers and colourful objets d’art), creating a place that is eclectic, eccentric and full of fun.

That spirit extends to the kitchen too – a small and faintly domestic space, where guests can perch on a long rustic table and watch Italian techniques being applied to Devon produce (much of it sourced from the kitchen garden). Head chef David Knapman's late-summer set menu began with antipasti of Glebe salumi with sublimely gooey Vacchino cheese, before segueing into a wonderful zesty octopus terrine doused in sauce vierge, served alongside a salad of beets, figs and blackberries. The faintest West Country accent was detectable in a pasta dish of ricotta and Ticklemore cheese agnolotti, though the kitchen saved the best for last in the form of guinea fowl with sweetcorn and girolles, lathered in sherry and tarragon sauce.

'Dolce' might include tarta di riso (Italian rice cake) with poached rhubarb and yoghurt ice cream or an innovative take on a historic ‘Exeter pudding’ (layers of financier, lemon curd and berries), while an Italian-leaning wine list kicks off with bottles from around £30. Glebe House also offers a range of characterful accommodation – both in the main house and in a cabin in the grounds – for those who would rather postpone their return journey along those narrow country lanes.

Kelvingrove's Gloriosa is the kind of place that wins not just admirers, but fanatics. 'They use local produce where possible,' says one reporter,, 'and the cooking allows it to shine – it is fabulous.' The place certainly looks the part: simple café-style furniture is offset by royal blue drapes and impressive abstract paintings.

Rosie Healey's cooking matches the lively mood with Med-influenced sharing dishes that come out swinging. Grilled squid is accompanied by potato, spring onion and green chilli for an initiatory jolt to the taste buds, or there could be something old-school French such as globe artichoke in chive butter. The larger plates major in robust pasta riffs including mussels with garlic and chilli on a tangle of tagliatelle, while fish dishes tend to the sturdy, as in hake with butter beans, Grelot onions and aïoli. If you've time to kick back, allow 40 minutes for a roast half-chicken with roast potatoes, green salad and tzatziki.

Desserts are oriented at the sharper end of the spectrum, yielding rhubarb and almond clafoutis or loquat and elderflower sorbet doused in cava. Knowledgeable and very friendly front of house staff manage proceedings admirably. A carefully constructed wine list spotlights small growers, and you might want to take in a spicy Margarita before you get started.

Once up the sweeping driveway of Linthwaite House and through the 14 acres of gardens onto the hotel’s terrace, you'll be treated to one of the finest views of Windermere, with the namesake ‘hen rock’ poking out of the lake below. Henrock (the restaurant) is at the viewless rear of the hotel, which focuses attention firmly on the plate, though – as in the rest of the impressive property – there is also art to admire from the owners’ private collection. Henrock is a Simon Rogan restaurant with Mark McCabe, formerly of the Ethicurean near Bristol, at the helm. Many of the ingredients have travelled no further than the extensive Our Farm in Cartmel, 13 miles away, making vegetarian dishes as diverting as the meat and fish options. The wine list casts its net wide, from Sussex to Slovenia, and an excellent by-the-glass selection helps to make amends for the rather lofty bottle prices. If there’s a drawback, there’s no getting away from the feeling that one is eating in a hotel dining room. But if you can’t get into L’Enclume or a Lakeland visit doesn’t allow time or transportation for Cartmel, Henrock provides a taste of Rogan destined to inspire further exploration.

Opened in 1927 as L’Escargot Bienvenue (complete with a snail farm in the basement), this bastion of old Soho has moved gently with the times while retaining its ageless sense of style – thanks in part to its current patron Brian Clivaz. A substantial refit in 2023 enhanced the famously warm, softly lit interiors, numerous salons and private spaces, and the veritable gallery of artwork lining the walls.

‘Slow and sure’ is the restaurant’s motto, and the kitchen continues to deliver a comforting rendition of 'la cuisine bourgeoise' – which means lobster salad, navarin of lamb, grilled halibut with hollandaise, confit duck with Puy lentils, crème brûlée and chocolate soufflé. The titular gastropods are shipped up from Herefordshire these days, although their treatment is as emphatically traditional as ever – slathered with parsley and garlic or, perhaps, flambéed with Pernod. Occasionally the menu strays off-piste for the likes of crab linguine with leeks and tarragon or asparagus and pea risotto, but it's back to France for cheeses and madeleines.

Fixed-price lunches and pre-theatre deals are good value for the postcode, afternoon tea is a pleasing surprise, and ‘flavoursome’ Sunday lunches have delivered ‘exceptional quality’ – from ‘rôti de côte de boeuf à l‘anglaise’ to tarte au citron. Wines are patriotically Gallic, of course, with big-ticket bottles for those who want to splurge but also some more affordable regional options for everyday drinking.

On the northern shores of Loch Leven, this big, brightly lit space with wipe-clean tables and café chairs is the go-to spot for shellfish in the region. It’s also a showcase for the family-owned Lochleven Shellfish Company next door – which dispatches crabs and lobsters, langoustines and oysters across Europe and Asia. There are meat dishes for those who must, but it’s the simply prepared seafood, presented without fuss, that brings customers here. A table of returning German visitors were working their way through the menu on our visit: a dozen Loch Creran oysters, followed by shellfish bisque with aïoli, then the mighty shellfish platter on ice made up of lobster, brown crab, Loch Linnhe scallops and oysters, which they declared the best shellfish in Europe. Expect too, lobster served cold with mayonnaise or hot with garlic butter, and whole brown crab – all to be eaten hands-on with crackers and shellfish pickers until the table is a pile of shells. A little less messy are grilled clams with garlic butter, diver-harvested scallops, razor clams poached in white wine, and buckets of steaming mussels in cider. To drink? Expect a standard list of predominantly white wines as well as local brews from River Leven Ales in Kinlochleven. There’s also a daytime coffee shop and a deli where fresh, frozen and cooked seafood is on sale.

There’s a serenity about Maison Bleue, a kind of timeless elegance and comfort that elevates 'lunch' to 'luuuunch'. It is a Bury St Edmunds fixture, attracting the most loyal of guests (some from quite a distance) for whom the combination of graceful service delivered by exceptional people and a menu of classical French cookery is everything a restaurant should be. Occasional flirts with spice add layers of interest to some dishes, witness caramelised cauliflower with a gentle tandoori seasoning or lemongrass, ginger and soy awakening the mild flavour of Devon crab – the latter a beautifully fresh starter which finds the crustacean tucked up with Granny Smith apple under glimmering avruga caviar. Top-notch ingredients take their place on the ‘gourmet’ menu, where you might find organic Shimpling Park lamb (the roasted saddle and slow-cooked shoulder served with sweet potato, kohlrabi and a lamb reduction) or firm, pearly-white Gigha halibut on a little heap of cumin-warmed white cabbage, puréed cauliflower and pieces of smoked eel. A crème brûlée is everything you could ever wish it to be – silken, rich, caramelly – but how welcome is that perky, balancing raspberry and tarragon sorbet. The exceptional wine list is one in which to lose yourself. It excites, tempts and delivers with a (naturally) French-leaning selection, while expert advice comes with the domaine. A rounded but fresh Coudoulet Blanc from the legendary southern Rhône winery, Château de Beaucastel, pairs a treat with a classically sauced chicken ballotine, and is equally satisfying alongside the earthy, autumnal savouriness of stone bass with an artichoke cream sauce, chanterelles and salsify.

Run by a ’friendly, capable team’ who care about the food they are serving, this relaxed spot is best known for its seasonal brunch and lunch dishes. Sit inside or take advantage of the ample pavement seating for a global menu that might run from bacon, cockles and laverbread on toast to shakshuka, huevos rancheros and onion bhaji buns, plus sweet stuff such as burnt Basque cheesecake. On Friday and Saturday evenings, it’s walk-ins only as the kitchen rolls out its menu of artisan pizzette (chargrilled artichokes with Gordal olives and roast peppers, say) backed by charcuterie, tinned fish, bespoke cocktails and natural wines (curated by the local Pontcanna Bottle Shop). The coffee is good too.

Any restaurant located on Mayfair's Mount Street must bring expectations of high prices and a certain well-groomed charm. Mount St doesn't disappoint on either count. There’s a classy subtlety to this dining room located above the Audley Public House. Large windows let natural light flood in and every inch of the walls is covered in art, courtesy of Artfarm (the hospitality arm of the modern gallery group Hauser & Wirth) which is behind the redevelopment of the whole building. It makes for a voguishly svelte (and welcome) package – open for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Given the fact that it received the seal of approval from the King and Queen when they dined here late in 2022, coupled with the cult status of its eye-wateringly priced lobster pie for two, it's no surprise that booking is essential. The menu follows both the classic school (oysters, caviar, omelette Arnold Bennett, Portland crab with brown crab mayonnaise) and more contemporary themes (a pairing of Orkney scallops with a smooth smoked eel sauce and slivers of raw apple adding some texture). Stick with fish and you might be rewarded by Dover sole with brown butter hollandaise, but meats are also allowed to shine – as in a gutsy dish of perfectly timed West Country lamb chops teamed with some slow-cooked belly. Finish up with a banana soufflé plus rum and raisin ice cream and salted caramel or a gloriously old-fashioned savoury, perhaps Gentleman’s Relish on toast with cucumber. The wide-ranging wine list, strongest in France and Italy, is predictably pricey.

Seafood is front and centre at this small restaurant from independent Sheffield fishmonger J H Mann. An open kitchen is separated from the dozen or so tables by a display of fresh fish on a slim counter, while high-ceilings, exposed steel and bare brick walls give an industrial feel that’s offset by colourful modern art and complemented by chunky wooden furniture and velvet-covered banquettes. Chef-owner Christian Szurko is Sheffield-born and London-trained (The Ivy, J Sheekey) and his menu bursts with ambitious flavour combinations: a generous side order of grilled savoy cabbage in garlic emulsion with smoked anchovies was one of the highlights of our visit. While the regular menu tends to favour the classics – grilled tiger prawns, steamed mussels, fish pie – the kitchen also handles more ambitious ideas such as a perfectly charred piece of octopus with mash and 'nduja and anchovy dressing. However, most of the more unusual, creative dishes are reserved for the specials board: here you might find maple-cured salmon with gochujang, kimchi and brioche toast or whole sea bream stuffed with jerk butter on a bed of incredibly delicious, lightly curried creamed corn, as well as grilled scallops with braised pork cheek, white asparagus and chunks of smoked Idiazabal cheese. To finish, we shared a lavish raspberry and pistachio pavlova. The house white is an organic Grüner Veltliner, while service is delivered with classic South Yorkshire warmth.

There’s something reassuringly old fashioned about this self-confident restaurant (the latest in what is now a trio of London-based Noble Rots) – and that’s a large part of its charm. With a dark green frontage, ground-floor windows sporting café-style net curtains and two slightly cramped dining floors, it feels as if it has been around forever – an impression reinforced by the simple polished wood tables, red banquettes, wooden chairs and mottled walls covered in framed Noble Rot magazine covers. Clued-up staff, a general air of warm-heartedness and a commendable wine list all contribute to the appeal. The regularly changing menu is reflective of both the season and head chef Adam Wood's many enthusiasms – his food is a delight. The short, Euro-accented menu offers dishes that are (mostly) straightforward assemblies with inspired finishing touches – beef tartare with green tomatoes and Ossau-Iraty (Basque ewe's milk cheese), say, or smoked ravioli with courgette and preserved lemon. We enjoyed tender squid with a chorizo sauce – so good we regretted not ordering bread to mop it all up – followed by two generous slices of tender Ibérico pork, served with a heap of runner beans, sliced apricots and juicy whole blackberries. And we couldn’t fault the rich, delicate duck-egg custard tart – a sprinkling of sea salt proved a sharp foil that really enhanced the flavour. The wine list is simply one of the best in London, an outstanding, deeply researched and inspiring document. Predominantly organised by grape variety, with regional sections where blends are predominant, it spans a massive range of top-drawer growers and estates. The principal focus is Europe, though there are some pedigree New Worlders too. Portuguese and Greek selections are encouragingly thorough, and the listings of sparklers and sweet wines (rotted and late-picked) are tremendous. Wines by the glass are in small enough measures to make comparative tasting feasible. Coravin pours will test the budget, but are uniformly glorious.

Since the aroma of fresh croissants first wafted from the ovens of the original bakery in Ancoats, Pollen has established something of a cult status in Manchester for its quality viennoiserie and sourdough loaves. A second, larger outpost at the Kampus development in the Piccadilly area is a serene, putty-hued space looking onto a lush courtyard garden where you can linger over a lunch of BBQ mushrooms on toast with celeriac and salsa verde or Jerusalem artichoke soup with herb butter. The counter also advertises a handsome selection of sweet treats: our surprisingly delicate matcha cheesecake was a sure sign of the pastry team's skills. 

Housed within the custom-built Design Museum alongside David Mellor’s iconic and award-winning 'factory’, the delightful Riverside Kitchen cuts quite a dash right in the centre of the space. Very good coffee and artisan pastries are standard, but check out the eclectic lunch menu, which could feature anything from Maharashtrian dhal to Persian chicken fesenjan (an Iranian stew with walnuts and pomegranate molasses). There are cracking sourdough toasties too, as well as international brunch classics and an ever-changing choice of salads. Chai lattes, local Thornbridge ales, kochumba and signature Bloody Marys catch the eye on the trendy drinks list.

The inconspicuous entrance – look for the pillarbox-red door – doesn’t give much away. Take the lift to the 4th floor and pull back the velvet curtain for the grand reveal. The huge arched windows of Palladian-style Sessions House (once the country’s largest courthouse) flood the former judges’ dining room with light by day, and reflect the flickering candlelight by night. It feels like stepping onto a period film set, the distressed paintwork and salvaged furnishings evoking a faded louche decadence.

Former sous-chef Abigail Hill is now running the kitchen, and her seasonally inspired food captures and reflects the artful aesthetic. The single-sheet roster of Med-accented dishes runs from the diminutive to the substantial and can be enjoyed in a three-course format – though each dish is delivered to your table when ready, so it’s arguably better to approach the menu as a pick-‘n’-mix.

Hill composes the food as much for the eye as for the palate, and any sense of pared-back austerity is banished by seductive richness and decadence: thick, buttery slices of lightly cured trout, properly seasoned and accompanied by a tart cream, heady with perfumed bergamot, for example, or rare onglet with a cloud of finely grated Spenwood cheese, which further heightens the almost gamey umami of the beef. This is well-judged and skilful stuff. Elsewhere, roasted muscat grapes bring bursts of sweet acidity to a winter creation of rich and astutely cooked pork with collard greens.

Vegetable dishes are given minor billing, though offerings such as shards of raw Badger Flame beetroot with walnuts and Jerusalem artichoke purée or a standout combo of purple sprouting broccoli with pistachio crumb and ewe’s yoghurt go a long way to absolving this. To finish, chocolate torte is a worthy Sessions classic. The wine list, supplied by Keeling Andrew (importers, distributors, consultants and founders of Noble Rot), is well-suited to the grown-up Sessions crowd (over-18s only): expect a stylish assortment of crowd-pleasers and hip appellations, plus an impressive by-the-glass range and plenty for those who want to delve a little deeper.

‘What a place!’ exclaimed one reporter after visiting Grantley Hall – a vision of unabashed Palladian opulence set in impossibly manicured grounds complete with water features, sculptures and immaculate flower beds. Inside, lofty ceilings, sumptuous drapes and chandeliers come as standard, while staff glide around effortlessly, attending to your every whim. 

Shaun Rankin’s self-named restaurant fits these surroundings like a velvet glove, and the dining experience is refined to the nth degree from the moment you are cosseted in the drawing room, sipping fizz and nibbling on superlative home-cured charcuterie. Then it's a move to the adjoining dining room for a multi-course menu full of intricate detailing. Ingredients are of the highest order, execution never falters and flavours are exquisitely harmonious throughout – it's a cavalcade of delights, although the standout bread course served with whipped bone marrow, dripping and instantly addictive 'beef tea' shows that Rankin is still true to his roots. 

Elsewhere, his homage to lobster involves the whole beast: the tail poached in smoked lobster butter, the claw in a separate glass bowl with sea purslane and samphire, doused in a rich, decadent bisque made from the crustacean’s head. Or how about a serving of ‘spoonably tender’ Yorkshire-reared wagyu short rib topped with tongue, beef tartare and peppy lovage, with a glossy peppercorn sauce. Seasonal pickings also have their moment – as in Thirsk asparagus served with lamb’s sweetbread, stuffed morel and a buttermilk/wild garlic sauce or a summery dessert involving strawberry, marigold and yoghurt. 

Thoughtful drinks pairings contribute a great deal too, especially the carefully considered ‘soft’ options – we're sold on the citrussy mix of cold-pressed apple juice, pomegranate and sorrel infusion. Wines are an equally adventurous bunch, from an Iranian Irdabama made with the indigenous Samarghandi grape to a 2023 Tannat 'Atlantico Sur' from Uruguay. Of course, all of this comes at a high price.

‘Go there for fine feasting in wonderful surroundings,’ advises one reader who was instantly captivated by this singular restaurant in the newer wing of Somerset House. Another dubs it ‘one of the most serene and beautiful dining rooms in London’ with its gleaming white walls, neo-classical pillars, exquisite floristry, pastel upholstery and cluster light fittings. The mood is soothing and eminently civilised, aided by diligent, helpful and ‘extremely knowledgeable’ staff.

The late Skye Gyngell's legacy is a joyous celebration of all things seasonal, with cooking that seeks out new creative possibilities – especially when it comes to fruit and vegetables. Flavours are always true to the calendar, while inspiration is gleaned from the annals of Mediterranean cookery and beyond, whatever the time of year. Cultured kefir butter comes as standard: spread it on ‘porridge’ sourdough and seeded rye bread or use it to enrich a plate of radishes. Pasta is a favourite call with readers (perhaps pappardelle with artichokes, guanciale, chilli and mint), various seasonal takes on stracciatella have been well received, and there’s also the simple pleasure of Wye Valley asparagus with Italian fonduta. Fern Verrow biodynamic farm in Herefordshire supplies many of the kitchen’s vegetables and leaves, which might feature in a meat-free dish with tulips, elderflower and buttermilk dressing. If animal protein is required, look no further than grilled leg of lamb accompanied by slow-cooked courgettes, rocket and horseradish cream or a well-reported dish of wild sea bass with girolles and corn purée.

Desserts are also hugely impressive, be it a classic summer pudding with crème fraîche, a honey custard tart with white peaches and white almonds or an ‘espresso jelly pud’ with cream, which reminded one recipient of a Malaysian gula melaka. There’s nothing avant-garde or experimental here, but for pinpoint execution, flavour and sheer pleasure, the results are exceptional.

Prices aren’t cheap, but weekday set lunches offer terrific value, and it’s worth checking out the early-evening ‘scratch menu’ built around ‘waste’ from the kitchen. The well-spread wine list nails its colours to the mast with an impressive roll call of on-trend varietals and low-intervention contenders backed by some seriously priced ‘cellar’ bottles.

You can drop into the Anchor for a pint of Adnams Broadside and a packet of crisps, half a dozen bracingly fresh rock oysters (from Mersea or Orford) and a glass of crisp Muscadet, or go full-throttle on a three-course meal that sings with local and seasonal produce. Either way, the Anchor is firing on all cylinders as a good pub should. 

Expect straightforward, generous food. Evergreen fixtures such as tempura-battered halloumi fries, smoked haddock fishcakes, and voluminous fish and chips sit alongside specials that make the most of allotment vegetables and local meat – perhaps pork belly with sweetheart cabbage and salsa verde. The chocolate fondant has earned its very own fan club over the years, not surprisingly given its dark, molten deliciousness.

Publican Mark Dorber, who has run the place with his chef/wife Sophie since 2004, layers the drinks list with his beer and wine expertise – he’ll happily engage on the subject with interested guests while pouring everything from local ales and complex Belgian Trappist beers to everyday wines and push-the-boat-out vintages such as a Domaine des Comtes Lafon, Mersault Clos de la Barre at £110. If you need to walk all that off, the beach is minutes away; and if you need to sleep it off, there are rooms in the pub or in spacious garden chalets (our recommendation). There’s praise, too, for the ‘lovely warm welcome’ and the ‘superb atmosphere’, especially in the charming fire-warmed bar area.

The Angel has been a fixture in the Guide for many a decade, surviving various culinary eras and changes of look. Its present incarnation, under chef-patron Michael Wignall (ex-Gidleigh Park et al), offers a smartly attired suite of three dining rooms – ours featuring polished concrete floors, lacquered oak tables and seating in soft grey leather. The aura of relaxed informality remains undented, and the view over the Dales is appetising enough, even if you haven't been hiking the long day through. Presented via a mixture of tasting menus and a carte, the cooking has, once again, acquired the innovative edge it had in days gone by. A delightful starter of tomato textures – fresh, cooked, dried and consommé – is served with lovage ice and basil. Even more fragrant is a serving of Shetland crab in buttermilk dashi with oscietra caviar, green strawberries and herb oil. To follow, guinea fowl is poached and sautéed to crisp satisfaction, teamed with roasted hen of the woods mushrooms and puréed corn, while lamb (and its tongue) arrive with a garniture of salsa verde shoehorned into a roll of lettuce, topped with anchovy crumb. Only desserts fell a little flat at inspection, but the incidentals – particularly the ingenious canapés – are all up to the mark. Wines by the glass start at a reasonable £5 for a small measure of a light Macabeo-Verdejo from Spain.

Built as a school in 1864, this vast gabled building is architecturally striking with stone arches, a cloistered frontage, huge windows and gables topped by an ornate clockspire from which the restaurant takes its name. Soaring raftered ceilings and ornate chandeliers continue the grandiose theme in the dining room offset by contemporary flourishes of pastel shades, polished concrete floors and arty floral displays.

Though there are few conventional fine-dining trappings here, chef Luke Sutton can deliver some intricate, highly worked dishes. He takes an intelligent, creative approach to seasonal produce, perhaps adding some BBQ English asparagus and wild garlic sauce to a starter of mushroom raviolo or serving Cornish stone bass with a spring vegetable chowder, sprouting broccoli, caramelised apple and vermouth sauce. Main courses could be as classic as sirloin steak with portobello mushroom, tomato chutney and triple-cooked chips or as up-to-the-minute as Creedy Carver duck breast pointed up with pickled radish, haricot bean purée and spiced sauce. Desserts are also given exact, thoughtful treatment as in crème brûlée custard tart with poached pear and caramelised white chocolate.

There's also the option of a £30 three-course set menu at lunchtime and early evening, while the restaurant’s feel for ‘niche presentation’ extends to well-reported Sunday roasts (cider-brined pork loin, rump of beef with slow-cooked ox cheek). Slightly formal but super-efficient service makes everyone feel a bit special, and the extensive, globe-straddling wine list includes a decent selection by the glass and half bottle. 

On the fringes of a 1,000-acre deer park just four miles from the Norfolk coast, this idiosyncratic pub/restaurant with rooms is quite a prospect. The grey-stone exterior may seem rather stark but inside all is comforting, thanks to soft, warm furnishings, lots of varnished woodwork, leather, blazing fires and the owners' collection of contemporary British art from the likes of Tracey Emin, Damien Hirst and Lucien Freud.

A recently acquired walled garden and chicken coop bolster the kitchen's larder, while big-boned British dishes are the order of the day. Much attention focuses on the mighty Elk Room fire, where cuts of meat are dramatically cooked to order as you watch from your table – expect anything from Blythburgh pork chops, ribs of beef and herby Gunton venison sausages to flavoursome sirloin steak served with goose-fat roasties, sauces and rowan jelly. Rich, carefully seasoned pies are also something of a trademark (perhaps chicken, bacon and leek) and there’s fish from the coast too (sea trout with seashore vegetables and King’s Lynn shrimps, for example). For afters, a delicate Amedei chocolate mousse was the standout for one visitor, but there’s also comfort to be had from the vanilla cheesecake with rhubarb or the Bramley apple and almond tart.

Sunday brings roast Aberdeen Angus sirloin as well as roasted chickens, which are carved by skilled staff and served with veg from the walled garden, garlicky bread sauce and a spectacular gravy that elevates the whole feast to another level. Everyone praises the cheerful, prompt and ‘incredibly friendly’ service too. Norfolk ales are on tap in the bar and the short wine list offers a decent spread at fair prices.

Peter Creed and Tom Noest know how to fancy-up a pub without ruining it. Rooted in the Cotswolds, they made a success of the Bell at Langford and in 2021 brought their winning formula to this picturesque 17th-century hostelry in a suitably opulent village. The conspicuously luxe element of the package is confined to the 10 letting rooms, while the restaurant and bar speak of old-fashioned country pubs, complete with bare floorboards, stone walls, venerable beams and, at weekends, a full house of rollicking, good-humoured locals drinking real ale. There’s also a terrace for summertime dining. The cooking is similarly unfussy and robust (chef Noest, still in his mid-20s, acknowledges a debt to Fergus Henderson). Notable skill is shown at the pizza oven – try sharing a ‘bite’ of garlic, bone marrow and parsley flatbread to start. Otherwise, a nose-to-tail dinner might begin with bouncy sweetbreads matched with crisp nuggets of bacon and leeks, followed by a dense and meaty faggot of local venison with swede and carrot mash – both dishes giving due gravity to the gravy. Lighter meals could feature creamy whipped cod’s roe (surrounding a pool of olive oil) with a gooey-yolked hard-boiled egg, ahead of on-the-bone brill with monk's beard. Seasonality is key here, so a dessert in March might celebrate rhubarb, perhaps topped with creamy cold custard beneath a generous portion of crunchy candied almonds. The wine list keeps up with trends (note the 'orange' selections), kicking off with a varied choice of house tipples by the glass. Service, too, is on the ball, even when things get busy. In all, an antidote to the pretension so prevalent in these parts.

This former bank makes a formidable dining room, complete with original marble, soaring ceilings, ornate wooden doorways and huge, slender windows. Run with personal charm and good humour, it’s an upbeat place that knows how to win friends. People love the way it strikes the right note between traditional and contemporary, and they also applaud the food.

Lloyd Morse’s kitchen takes a resolutely nose-to-tail approach, showcasing his deep love of Italian and French cuisine, with the emphasis firmly on provenance, seasonality and a style of cooking that is unfussy, hearty and deeply satisfying. In practice, that might mean Guinness-battered Gigha oysters with chilli mayo or roast chicken terrine with asparagus and aïoli, followed by braised leg of wild rabbit (cooked Spanish-style with pancetta, manzanilla, artichokes and almonds) or turbot with raw courgettes, broad beans, peas, tarragon and crab butter sauce. Elsewhere, a fondness for offal could see a weekend special of skewered chicken combs, gizzards and hearts grilled over charcoal (with a parfait crostini on the side).

The much-loved in-house bakery produces exceptional bread, as well as pastries (the Palmerston opens at 9am for coffee and viennoiserie), while desserts such as apricot and almond tart, elderflower panna cotta or chocolate and amaretto ice cream are highly praised. The bar is set out for dining, and is usually the only place you’ll get a seat without a booking. Here you'll find local beers from Newbarns Brewery, a well-thought-out whisky shelf, and a few cocktail options (including a signature coffee Negroni) to throw back while picking through an adventurous wine list that’s tilted towards the Old World, with about a dozen options by the glass.

Although its name, and that of the village, stems from the roadside tavern that has perched on this site since the 18th century, no current visitor would mistake The Peat Inn for anything other than a carefully fettled culinary destination with rooms. Owned and operated by chef-patron Geoffrey Smeddle and his wife Katherine since 2006, the atmosphere within is warm and refined. Interiors are modern, sharp and luxurious, but pay homage to the history of the building. Exposed, whitewashed beams mirror the crisp linen and contrast with the vivid, vibrant upholstery. Come cold weather, an open fire still roars in the bar. Back in the kitchen, the cooking speaks of precision, skill, and at times, love. An inventive venison tartare impresses early on, cleverly embellishing the musky game with creamy goat’s curd and a sharp, sweet tomato jelly. A complex web of flavours, but beautifully balanced. Considering the location in Fife’s bountiful East Neuk, it's not surprising that local produce is frequently the star, although the menu draws on the strengths of the wider Scottish larder. If you time your visit well, grouse is likely to appear. In this instance, the bird is treated classically – roasted, with the tender, rosy meat of the breast and leg gorged in a dark, unctuous game sauce. Completing the picture are game chips, green beans and bread sauce, plus a frankly obscene fried croûton, slathered with a tarry, luscious liver parfait. Desserts mix outright decadence with meticulous visual finesse. A Greek yoghurt crémeux nestles beneath a delicate honeycombed crisp, bolstering the intense, condensed caramel sweetness of roast apricot, while a dark chocolate délice sings loudest alongside the marmalade and sherry-like notes of its matched vin doux naturel. There is plenty of enthusiasm from readers, although some noticeably erratic execution – particularly in terms of seasoning and the overall balance of flavours – needs addressing. Wines start just north of £30 and scamper all the way up to the high hundreds, with over a dozen offered by the glass. If in doubt, advice is affable and enthusiastic, in line with the always-attentive service.

*Currently up for sale*

Although its name, and that of the village, stems from the roadside tavern that has perched on this site since the 18th century, no current visitor would mistake The Peat Inn for anything other than a carefully fettled culinary destination with rooms. Owned and operated by chef-patron Geoffrey Smeddle and his wife Katherine since 2006, the atmosphere within is warm and refined. Interiors are modern, sharp and luxurious, but pay homage to the history of the building. Exposed, whitewashed beams mirror the crisp linen and contrast with the vivid, vibrant upholstery. Come cold weather, an open fire still roars in the bar. Back in the kitchen, the cooking speaks of precision, skill, and at times, love. An inventive venison tartare impresses early on, cleverly embellishing the musky game with creamy goat’s curd and a sharp, sweet tomato jelly. A complex web of flavours, but beautifully balanced. Considering the location in Fife’s bountiful East Neuk, it's not surprising that local produce is frequently the star, although the menu draws on the strengths of the wider Scottish larder. If you time your visit well, grouse is likely to appear. In this instance, the bird is treated classically – roasted, with the tender, rosy meat of the breast and leg gorged in a dark, unctuous game sauce. Completing the picture are game chips, green beans and bread sauce, plus a frankly obscene fried croûton, slathered with a tarry, luscious liver parfait. Desserts mix outright decadence with meticulous visual finesse. A Greek yoghurt crémeux nestles beneath a delicate honeycombed crisp, bolstering the intense, condensed caramel sweetness of roast apricot, while a dark chocolate délice sings loudest alongside the marmalade and sherry-like notes of its matched vin doux naturel. There is plenty of enthusiasm from readers, although some noticeably erratic execution – particularly in terms of seasoning and the overall balance of flavours – needs addressing. Wines start just north of £30 and scamper all the way up to the high hundreds, with over a dozen offered by the glass. If in doubt, advice is affable and enthusiastic, in line with the always-attentive service.

The Samling sits in splendid, immaculate isolation above Windermere. It is a sumptuous place that nods in contemporary style to Lakeland surroundings that you can enjoy without getting wet and muddy; invigorating views of mere and mountain spread beyond the glass-walled dining room, and the seriously cushioned lounge is warmed with a weather-defying real fire. Service is flawless, if at times a little whispered, and the cooking of executive chef Robby Jenks and his team is deliciously refined. The four-course lunch is good value (you pay more than double for seven courses at dinner), though the quietness one autumn Saturday lunchtime suggests that memo has not been received. Sourdough comes tucked up warm in white linen in a silver bowl; its accompanying butter sits on a stone, fashionably. A fragile tartlet is a few bites of walloping umami savouriness from mushrooms – ketchup, duxelles, hen of the woods, tiny little shimeji, a tuile – and the aniseedy nudge of tarragon emulsion brightens the ‘shroomy forest. Saffron is the dominant flavour in a dish of skate wing, spiralled round a gentle shellfish mousse in a sauce split with dill oil. Topped with a lacy saffron tuile that's dotted with Jerusalem artichoke and ditsy nasturtium leaves, it is a thing of golden beauty and earthy flavour. Middle White pork is treated with such tenderness that a piece of pancetta-wrapped loin becomes meltingly soft, so too a square of belly slow-cooked in beer vinegar; both get on well with the sweet-sharp seasonality of pear, parsnip and red cabbage. Finish with a classy apple dessert that uses fruit from the Samling’s orchard. A meringue cup contains minuscule dices of apple as well as almond biscuit, the whole surrounded by a featherlight mousse coated in white chocolate. Tonka-bean ice cream alongside is sublime in its nutty, vanilla-suggesting flavour. Wine-lovers take note: temptation ahead. The renowned list, vast in scope, is fat with bottles from the world’s great vineyards, and prices reflect this. There are slightly more ordinary sips – called ‘The Forty’ after their price tag – but it somehow comes as no surprise that three bottles have five-figure tickets, a bottle of La Romanée Grand Cru Monopole 2002 topping the lot at a mind-boggling £16,000.

Tucked into one side of the landmark brutalist building that is 180 Strand, Toklas is easy to miss. Just remember it has its own entrance on Surrey Street, opposite the old Strand tube station – if you find yourself outside Toklas Café & Bakery, you’ve gone too far. Set one level above the street, it’s a genuine find – an oasis of calm, especially on a warm summer’s day when a table on the wide, plant-filled terrace is highly prized. The restrained modern interior goes bare on napery and big on concrete, but natural light floods in through huge windows and striking artworks add colour.

The restaurant draws inspiration – and its name – from the avant-garde American food writer Alice B Toklas, but what distinguishes it is a commitment to concise, seasonal and elegant Mediterranean-style cooking. Indeed, the kitchen is noted for its simple, calendar-tuned line-up of dishes based on the freshest of ingredients with classic accompaniments. Those pristine raw materials are handled with a delicate touch, as in a starter of wild sea bass crudo with sweet 'honeycomb' tomatoes offset by dots of salty bottarga, plus a colourfully tangled assembly of black figs, oakleaf lettuce, crunchy hazelnuts, pecorino shavings and honey. Rabbit saltimbocca with a pile of braised chard and a chunk of fresh Amalfi lemon is completely delicious in its simplicity, while homemade pasta is the business: a plate of tagliatelle with Scottish girolles, garlic and parsley showed up well during our lunchtime visit. 

And there’s concord right to the final act: our dessert of gorgeous, perfectly roasted amaretto peaches needed nothing more than a dollop of mascarpone. The innovative wine list is dominated by bottles from the Mediterranean basin. Although there are comparatively few options under £40, drinkers have access to a generous clutch of recommendations by the glass and carafe. Excellent cocktails, too.