31 restaurants for savouring British summer produce
Published 29 August 2023

Dining at chef Richard Swale’s Allium at Askham Hall is like being a house guest in a small château. The 14th-century Pele tower in the picture-perfect hamlet of Askham was, until 2012, the family home of the Lowther family. Sensitively converted for human-scaled hospitality, it remains family-owned and an integral part of the wider working estate. A hand-drawn sketch within the daily changing six-course menu illustrates the provenance of the vast majority of ingredients direct from their own perfectly tended market gardens, farms and upland game areas. Produce this fresh demands cooking of absolute integrity and authenticity, and this Allium is certainly one lily that needs no gilding. The result? Uber-local dishes of joyous celebration, technical excellence and maximum flavour. The Askham garden salad with sheep's curd, truffle and a duck-gizzard vinaigrette is a dish with nowhere to hide, offering simple perfection, leaf by carefully placed leaf. The bold approach to sweet Mull langoustines with red curry and cauliflower pays dividends, while tender red deer with summer savory, beetroot and elderberries captures the essence of this distinctive place on a single plate. A geranium set cream with rhubarb evidences a lightness of touch and preparedness to elevate humble plants to elegant status. Dining in the airy garden room, sensitively appended to the original castle walls, emphasises its proximity to the produce which is the bedrock of brilliance underpinning this 'charming experience'. To match the quality of cooking, an awe-inspiring leather-bound wine list navigates an A-Z of the world’s great wines from the private cellars of passionate collectors. Despite some unique rarities costing an average UK annual salary, there are many well-chosen options at prices accessible to ordinary mortals. All is lovingly stewarded by charming house manager/maître d'/sommelier Nico Chieze, who approaches customers of differing wine knowledge with equal grace and curates flights that cut through any complexity or concern. Some restaurants may appear arbitrary in their location, but Allium and its close-knit family at Askham Hall has deep roots into the local land, history and community.

Brad Carter's popular spot in Moseley is an unpretentious-looking venue for exciting modern cooking of the first order. The bunker-like room, with its open kitchen at one end, creates an enclosed sense of community, reinforced by stunningly creative presentations – the dishes regularly coaxed into pictorial shapes and colours that only tangentially resemble food. First up, might be a little tuile cup of dairy-cow bresaola garnished with shaved truffle, an intensely delicious introit to the tasting menu. The chicken thigh that comes with chunks of savoury jelly in a crisp batter dusted with vinegar powder, plus a condiment pot of aged soy to accompany, might look like a mould-covered mushroom, but is a concentrated essence of glorious umami. A generous slice of Gigha halibut, steamed very precisely, topped with little chunks of just-cooked hispi, arrives with a super-fine shred of sweet, red shishito chilli and trout roe in a golden, sharp beurre blanc. It might precede magically flavourful duck breast, aged for 30 days, with confit squash, pumpkin seeds and the fruity accoutrements of mirabelle jam and elderberry sauce. Of the trio of desserts, our pick was the cloud of woodruff ice cream dressed in plum-stone oil, texturally bizarre and full of unexpected tastes. Low-intervention wines and some seriously fascinating ciders and beers – try the sour porter infused with wild mushrooms – indicate that nothing in Birmingham's brave new culinary world is predictable.

Coombeshead is a working, developing farm with owner Tom Adams making new decisions all the time about what livestock to keep, what to grow that will best suit the soils, and how to present the bounty of the land to its best advantage. The accommodation aspect of the business is its principal attraction (not least for the excellent breakfasts) but a four-course evening menu at £65 is well worth a detour.

Proceedings open with the famously good bread served with sunny-yellow farmhouse butter before a starter of mangalitza pork terrine or a simple preparation of just-picked vegetables. Main courses could be a hefty leg of guinea fowl, served with stewed tomato and string beans, plus dressed salad leaves. Our inspector's dessert – a perfectly rendered frangipane tart of haskap berries with clotted cream – felt like the best kind of farmhouse cooking.

As for wine, it's a matter of browsing the cellars for yourself and picking out something suitable. If you've arrived hot-foot from far away, take a long, meandering wander around the fields. Smell the wild garlic. Look at the chickens and the piglets. Relax.

Reopened in January 2025 after a seasonal refit that brought an extension to the kitchen and a revamped bar area, Erst retains its industrial-chic styling – and still fits seamlessly into the regenerated Ancoats district as a reliable and often inspiring local resource. Patrick Withington is a confirmed exponent of the small-plates approach, and much of what the kitchen turns out is surprising, ingeniously constructed and founded on excellent prime materials. Even the salads score highly for lively mixtures of flavour – witness castelfranco leaves offsetting the creaminess of Corra Linn (a hard sheep's cheese from Lanarkshire), with pear and walnuts in support.

The flatbread that arrives well lubricated with beef fat and scattered with flakes of dried Turkish urfa chilli fully deserves the legendary status it has acquired. Tema artichoke with fermented celeriac in barigoule broth showed a delicate approach to winter warming at our visit, while the skewered lamb coated in ras el hanout butter (another established favourite) was as spicily and fragrantly satisfying as ever. By contrast, skate wing in sherry seemed a clash of mistimed elements, but a dessert of olive-oil cake with ricotta ice cream and candied citron is still a good bet for those who have wearied of salty caramel.

Natural wines are the hot ticket among the drinks, and it's worth gleaning some advice from your server about what goes best with what. Before you get embroiled, though, consider the house aperitif, which might involve celery liqueur and apple shrub in a productive liaison with gin and house vermouth.

Located on a residential side street in Stoke Newington, this is the most perfect contemporary brunch spot in the Aussie London tradition. It's appealing inside and out with simple, light wood interiors, a counter stocked with expertly baked treats and a busy back garden filled with mismatched tables. Excellent coffee comes from Hasbean while the ever-evolving menu is far more creative than most, featuring top-notch suppliers such as Hodmedods and Flourish Produce. Think braised lamb shoulder with crushed chickpeas, spigarello and pickled cucumber salsa verde or something sweet such as French toast with Mairac apple, toasted hay cream and cobnut buckwheat crunch.

A block or two from Piccadilly Gardens, Higher Ground is run by a triumvirate who met while working at Blue Hill at Stone Barns in Pocantico Hills in New York State. They have now rocked up at the corner of an office building in, naturally, New York Street, to bring up-to-the-minute bistro food to a vanguard gastronomic city. Much of what comes into the kitchen is supplied by their own farm Cinderwood, a market garden smallholding in Cheshire, and its vivid intensities of flavour inspire chefs and diners alike. Eaten in a bright, spacious airport-style space, with counter seating as well as tables, the result is dishes that you will want to share, rather than merely being told that you have to. Green pea and spring garlic fritters enriched with Isle of Mull Cheddar won't touch the sides, and there are pedigree cured meats such as 12-month air-dried culatello or the cannily sourced salami taormina from Curing Rebels of Brighton. Fish cookery is of the first water: Scottish turbot with grilled lettuce, spring onions and basil is perfect with a side order of waxy Marfona potatoes dressed in roasted yeast and smoked butter. Desserts are, surprisingly, of a more delicate persuasion than puds and cheesecake. Try house-cultured yoghurt with preserved gooseberry and bay leaf, or milk ice cream given a little fairground pizzazz with chocolate malt fudge. Speciality bottled ales from the English regions are a plus point, and wine-drinkers can be sure their tipple will have been left to its own devices as far as possible, turning burnt orange for Ardèche Marsanne or abashed pink for Sicilian rosato. House fizz is a Crémant de Limoux.

* The owners have announced that Hjem will be closing on 31 December 2025, with attention focusing on the completion of a new purpose-built restaurant with rooms called Freya on the Close House Estate in nearby Wylam.* 

To misquote Judy Garland, 'there’s no place like Hjem'. Meaning ‘home or place of belonging’ in both Northumbrian and Swedish, this restaurant's cooking, ingredients and style are confidently rooted across these two complementary cultures. It’s the Scandi-Northumberland dreamchild of couple Alex Nietosvuori and Alexandra Thompson – reflecting his personality and technical pedigree in the kitchen, and hers in the comfort and warmth front of house. A simple and cosy bar leads through to an airy, light-filled dining space with an additional garden room beyond. Views over the potager underscore their commitment to localism. Clean lines, pale woods and neutral colours are punctuated by the unabashed joy of seasonal hedgerow flowers.

This understated environment offers a calm canvas for the visual and taste sensations emerging from the open kitchen: ‘arguably one of the best restaurants I have eaten at – well thought-through, interesting, delightful and, in some cases, truly sublime,’ enthused one reader.

The tasting menu sets the scene with around six opening mouthfuls, each a mini masterpiece delivered in turn by one of the chefs – perhaps a rich lobster claw beignet with compressed chicken skin or a sliver of smoked eel with sharp Doddington cheese and pearlescent local lardo. Larger plates follow; two fish courses, two meat and then a seeming deluge of desserts. Humble mackerel is anointed with a flavour-laden crystalline tomato water and wafers of salted radish, while a tender but sumo-sized scallop is served simply in a vin jaune sauce cut with walnut oil. The kitchen hums. Huge steamers come out for a delicate chawanmushi (savoury Japanese custard) served with emerald baby broad beans and confit lamb belly, while a firebox provides the open flames to dramatically finish prime cuts from the gleaming meat safe. This is not a place to pop in for a quick bite and you certainly won’t leave hungry.

Desserts stick with local ingredients: a striking horseradish sorbet brings freshness to a rich apple caramel and oat tuile, while a combo of soft rose ice cream, elderflower custard, strawberries and petalled meringue is like Eton mess in a cottage garden. Coffee and fika opens up a whole new seam of creativity. The sheer range of flavours and presentations could feel overwhelming but dishes and portion sizes are well-judged. The commitment to showcasing what lives and grows within reach of the picture-perfect village of Wall ensures a grounding in authenticity and resists the lure of unnecessary adornments.

To accompany this culinary odyssey, sommelier Anna Frost has curated an extensive wine list reflecting personal passions, oenophile oddities and atypical producers at reasonable prices for a restaurant of this calibre. An unusually creative and extensive non-alcoholic range, including a matched tasting flight, recognises diverse needs and preferences. So click your ruby slippers and even if you don’t find the 'yellow brick road', you can rest assured that Hadrian left a very large edifice nearby.

Tucked away at the bottom of a steep valley that feels lost in time, this 'absolute hidden gem' of a farm-to-table restaurant is an entrancing prospect complete with prettily planted sun-trap terraces, while inside beautiful oak beams and terracotta walls hung with gardening tools give a stylishly rustic feel. There's much praise, too, for chef Matthew Briddon's 'modern, imaginative' Italian menu, showcasing vegetables from the estate's walled kitchen garden alongside locally reared meat. Everything from the bread to the ice cream is made in-house. You may know Iford Manor for its excellent ciders and cans of apple soda (both of which feature on the drinks list), but there is much more to admire here. Briddon's care and attention to provenance and process pays dividends on the plate, whether in a starter of pickled beet salad with rocket, croûtons and a wonderfully refreshing apple/fennel gazpacho poured at the table, or a main of tender, juicy grilled pork with a hasselback potato, a roast head of fennel and a fabulously tangy lemon, anchovy and tomato salsa. Our late spring lunch crescendoed with a limoncello curd, raspberry and mint tart topped with a generous swirl of burnt Italian meringue. Committed and friendly staff combined with the restaurant's community-minded ethos create a warm welcome, and there's a short European wine list to round things off. Note that the restaurant is only open for lunch (accompanied by live jazz on Saturdays); they also host occasional supper clubs. Next door is the private Georgian manor house and the extraordinarily beautiful and romantic Grade I-listed Peto Garden (open to the public April to September), which you must book separately to visit.

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.

Simon Rogan was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours List at the end of 2023, which is some measure of the influence he has had on contemporary British dining. The nerve centre of the whole operation is still here, in a stone-built former smithy on a Cartmel road-bend, not far from its sibling Rogan & Co. The ambience has lost none of its rusticity, from the roughcast whitewashed walls and raftered ceilings to the anvil after which the place is named. The light, airy conservatory makes a fine spot for lunch. Smartly clad staff oversee a welcoming – and supremely professional – approach to hospitality, and the food does the rest. The kitchen mobilises a battalion of unexpected ingredients in surprising – even stunning – combinations, with textural notes to the fore as well as a clear focus on sustainability and regionalism. Among the appetisers is a fritter of Duroc pork and smoked eel on lovage emulsion with sweetcorn purée, an unimaginably delicious composition of flavours. There is also a pudding of Berkswell cheese coated in caramelised birch sap, tapped from a tree just a couple of miles away. A succession of plated dishes might include tiny pink fir potatoes cooked in chicken fat with pickled walnuts and an oil of burnt onion ash, while one of L'Enclume's signatures is the seaweed custard in beef broth and bone marrow, garnished with a house blend of caviar and Maldon oyster. Various vegetable-based specialties are always part of the menu, their seasonal freshness offset with powerful herbs and seasonings. As for animal protein, a pairing of John Dory and cuttlefish in pork fat with shrimp sauce, spinach and verbena might precede an outstanding dish of dry-aged Middle White pork in mead sauce with black garlic purée and pickled allium seeds, plus a pork-fat crumpet sitting on a hot stone to keep it warm. Textures go haywire in a serving of frozen Tunworth cheese topped with puffed buckwheat, lemon thyme crystals and gel, on a compôte of Champagne rhubarb. After strawberries and sweet cicely cream served in a ceramic pouch, followed by a miso-caramel mousse with apple (another L’Enclume signature), we concluded with an array of superlative petits fours – including a cornet of peach-stone ice cream with elderflower and white-chocolate ganache, and a tiny caramelised pear tart with a spot of herb oil. Wines by the glass are presented on an iPad, which you may want to keep by you as the menu progresses, but it's best to let the wine flights themselves take wing on a cosmopolitan journey around the globe.

Le Manoir in late May is a picture. Wisteria drapes over its honeyed stone, and you can wander freely across graceful lawns to kitchen gardens, orchards and ponds that hum with the energy of the season. This has been Raymond Blanc’s domain for almost 40 years and while firmly rooted in that heritage, its gaze is now fixed firmly on the future. Clearly the brief for 30-something Luke Selby, executive head chef since January 2023, has been not to cause upheaval within these mellow walls, rather to lead things gently forward – his six-course menu feels light-footed and playful, youthful and fresh. Luxury here is defined not necessarily by a flash of langoustine or lobster, more by garden-fresh produce whose flavours are allowed to shine. Tiny peas gather with vivid sweetness on a ricotta-filled tartlet, one of the exquisite canapés. Beetroot demonstrates its peerless versatility in a beautiful opener of deftly cubed pieces, the tartare base for a dome of beetroot mousse glossed with a gel that’s dotted with pickled mooli ‘flowers’. It’s fun and palate-awakening, thanks to a horseradish sorbet that sears fierily through the sweetness. Later, a dainty potato basket of tiny carrots, ribboned asparagus and crimson-edged slivers of radish is a bouquet of garden offerings alongside roasted guinea fowl. A morel filled with the lightest chicken and mushroom mousse sits in the airy tickle of a Gewürztraminer foam like a giant thimble; underneath is just-poached white asparagus, on top a crisp toast for texture. It’s a Blanc classic, but updated to offer a single, showstopping mushroom rather than three small ones as on previous menus. Classic too is the confit chalk stream trout on pickled mooli with compressed cucumber, tiny cauliflower florets, horseradish, dill oil and oscietra caviar. Its summery flavours are beautifully balanced, and it’s dashingly attractive. Desserts are exquisite. Bitter chocolate with coconut sorbet refreshes, before rosy-red gariguette and wild strawberries arrive, announced by their fragrance. Scarlet pieces of fresh fruit and a bright strawberry sorbet top a feather-light mousse, a pistachio biscuit base tempering the fruit’s natural acidity. Be assured, this is special-occasion territory without a doubt. Service glides with easy professionalism. The conservatory dining room is comfortable. Sommeliers are attentive. This is helpful given the scope of the wine list, which proudly celebrates France before heading, for example, to Austria for Martin and Anna Arndorfer’s minerally Riesling or to cool-climate Patagonia for Bodega Noemia’s smooth biodynamic Malbec. The four-glass paired flight is £95 at lunch; for those with unfathomably deep pockets, the £999 ‘sélection exceptionelle’ (£799 at lunch) includes Burgundy winemaker Cecile Tremblay’s magnificent 2015 Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru, Les Feusselottes.

There is a soothing sense of isolation to this white-fronted former pub in an Oxfordshire village near Henley, but that has not stopped scores of readers from nominating it as a local favourite. The sense of good cheer that irradiates the place is a tribute to Liam and Ryan Simpson-Trotman's skills in the arts of hospitality, and its understated modern spaces provide a chic backdrop to some stunning cooking.

Following a stint working front of house, Ryan is back in the kitchen, marshalling thoroughbred produce from the length and breadth of the British Isles, while making good use of pickings from Orwells' own garden and local hedgerows. The cooking demonstrates nerveless confidence in a range of techniques, from a starter of flame-grilled lobster teamed with girolles, apricots, verjus and sea fennel (aka rock samphire) to mains such as the fabled Chilterns muntjac with morels, asparagus and carrot. An assured sense of artistry means that dishes always look extraordinary, but the symphonic array of flavours they offer up seals the deal.

Another first course sees crisped veal sweetbreads with Ibérico lardo and salsify, given the gentlest hint of east Asian exoticism with spring onion and sesame dressing, while a vegetarian main looks to the Caribbean for Bajan-spiced hispi with romesco and hen of the woods. You might also find a simple offering of day-boat fish – perhaps Cornish turbot with seashore herbs and Jersey Royals.

The inventive streak continues into desserts that bridge the divide between the familiar and the not-so-familiar – crème brûlée spiced with cardamom and accompanied by rhubarb, pistachios and ginger. Eight-course tasting menus offer a virtuosic display of the kitchen's abilities, in notations that give nothing away. Orkney scallops? Yorkshire rhubarb? Wait and see. There are Sunday roasts too. A very distinguished wine list means that the wide-open Oxfordshire sky is the limit on bottle prices, but there are plenty of options by the glass, as well as an engaging range of cocktails, bottled beers and speciality gins to go at.

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.

A 'field to fork' farmstead restaurant is always a bracing proposition, and this one, deep in the Pembrokeshire wilds is no exception. Whatever beaten track there might be hereabouts (actually the B4320 near Hundleton), they're off it. It's a testament to the success of the formula that somewhere so remote can still receive as many nominations as it does for our Best Local Restaurant awards, with the super-friendly, helpful and enthusiastic staff receiving lots of plaudits.

You eat in the former milking parlour, perhaps snuggled into one of the old stalls, beneath clumps of pampas hanging from the rafters, with an open kitchen at one end generating a steady stream of ingenious and heterogeneous plates from Michelle Evans' fertile culinary imagination.The seasonal set menu is a rolling feast that changes every day depending on supplies from the farm and beyond, but the following should give a clue to the kind of food on offer: asparagus with crab, pickled chilli, lemon and dill, with the brown meat folded through a silky mayonnaise; baked whole bream with romesco; glossy, golden-crusted mutton, leek and smoked Snowdonia cheese pie served with garden kale and Café de Paris butter. Veggie options are always intriguing too – perhaps wild mushroom and truffle arancini or BBQ hispi cabbage lathered in umami-rich miso butter with some chilli heat and soothing, creamy aïoli.

Dessert could bring chocolate mousse or cherry and tahini ice cream; otherwise, opt for a plate of Welsh cheeses. There might also be honey madeleines by the half dozen, too. 'Even the drinks are in season,' gasped one reporter, wholly appreciative of a rhubarbed-up version of pisco sour – although there are some 'fantastic natural wines from a young importer,' too.

On paper, this rustic restaurant starts at a disadvantage. Located at the back of an old greenhouse in a plant nursery, with dirt floors and wobbly old tables and chairs, you might wonder what all the fuss is about. Add to that, the difficulty of getting there: it's a decent half-hour walk from Richmond station or a tidy step from the closest bus stop; arriving by car is actively discouraged. But everyone is beguiled by the sheer style and beauty of a place that is brilliantly and artlessly filled with rustic antiques, flowers and foliage. Sit among the urns and furniture in winter; on warm summer days, the whole restaurant is transported outside, where guests dine in a vine- and wisteria-covered courtyard redolent of a Tuscan garden. The Italian-led kitchen, which trumpets sustainability and its affiliation to the Slow Food Movement, uses the nursery as a source of herbs and lettuces, but has access to produce from an related farm in Sussex, while fish is from Cornwall and Italian specialities come direct. Expect clean, fresh flavours and beautiful presentation: carpaccio of monkfish dressed with crème fraîche and chilli has wild fennel and borage petals scattered across it; slivers of artichoke are first chargrilled before the addition of capers, parsley and great chunks of crumbled Parmesan. A sirloin of organic beef from Haye Farm in Devon will be simply grilled and served with a spiky rocket salad; salmon might be salt-baked and accompanied by samphire and spinach. Portions are generous, which makes puddings a little superfluous – although the likes of peach trifle and panna cotta are not the kitchen’s strongest point anyway. Really hungry visitors will do better with the succulent, crunchy garden fritti as an accompaniment to their bellini aperitif rather than saving themselves for the last course. The stiffly marked-up wine list is Italian by inclination – though with a touch of English or French where appropriate.

‘This is how summer dining should be,’ thought one visitor. Indeed. Deep in the Wiltshire countryside, Pythouse's billowing flower gardens and warm walls embrace the old lean-to conservatory that acts as a dining room. Geraniums and little lemon trees juggle for windowsill space, blinds shade from the sun, and doors are open to the breeze. It’s an easy place in which to pass a few hours – especially when your table is filled variously with good things, prepared simply, mostly over fire. Bouncy, chewy potato bread with garlicky fava-bean houmous drizzled with rapeseed oil and a gathering of pickled veg nudges the appetite. The garden dictates culinary proceedings, with preserved ingredients lifting flavours here and there. A June outing brought treasures aplenty: miso-braised hispi cabbage with wet garlic; slow-cooked tomatoes with wisps of pickled rose petals and herb oil; roasted beets with smoked cream, fig-leaf vinegar and the toasty crunch of puffed quinoa. What’s not grown on site comes from nearby: wild venison from north Somerset; pasture-reared beef from a small family farm in the impossibly romantic-sounding hamlet of Nempnett Thrubwell; chalk stream trout (served with asparagus velouté). Gorgeously tender lamb (cooked pink) is a highlight, with a wilt of fermented wild garlic giving sharpness and roasted cauliflower purée adding a savoury note. To finish, fresh strawberries tumble against the 'Milk Bar's crack pie’ – a chewy, treacly, biscuity tart topped with thick, whipped Jersey-milk Ivy House cream – while bitter notes temper sweetness nicely in an espresso caramel with a Pump Street chocolate mousse. To drink? Yes there’s wine, but this is the home of Sprigster, the botanical shrub that surely refreshes parts no alcohol can truly reach.

There’s a modest elegance about this neighbourhood restaurant in the quiet southerly reaches of the Lake District. White walls, alluring photography of Lakeland fells, and simply laid tables are reminders that you’re in the realm of Rogan, a place where unfussy deliciousness and a peerless approach to ingredients rule. Snacks launch a refreshingly uncomplicated offer from head chef Tom Reeves. A tartlet with whipped cod's roe is palate-quickening; a Parmesan sablé with artichoke cream and flutter of petals is richer; a croquette of mushroom and truffle duxelles umami-laden. To follow, Simon Rogan's 'Our Farm' provides ‘Aynsome offerings’ (the farm is on Aynsome Lane, just outside Cartmel), a pert little bowl of carefully prepped veg. Green beans are fresh from an exuberant harvest, so too little kale leaves, purple-tinged baby turnips and peppery nasturtium. They’re combined with fermented cucumber and pickled radish from last year, the tussle of ingredients anchored by a forthright sauce of Isle of Mull Cheddar. Elsewhere, tenderly smoked eel tumbles around a caramelised potato terrine that's dotted with two emulsions (one of eel, the other of wild garlic), its richness balanced by a buttermilk and mussel sauce that's split prettily with dill oil. Mains might centre on Jerusalem artichoke or a sublime piece of hake, grilled just-so and served with spinach cooked in miso butter, plus a fermented celeriac and mussel sauce. The tenderest St Brides chicken breast is stuffed with hen of the woods mousse (the mushroom is also roasted for that umami win) – the dehydrated skin mixed with toasted yeast provides yet more umami, and acts as a foil for sweet heritage carrots. A mirror-glossy chicken sauce ties everything together gloriously. Proper puds include dark chocolate fondant with apple marigold, and a playfully nostalgic vanilla rice pudding that’s pitch-perfect on an early autumn day – served in a wooden bowl with blackcurrant sorbet, fresh blackberries, toasted macadamia nuts and crimson oxalis. Coffee provides a bolster, while bouncy little sticky toffee pudding madeleines nod in a neighbourly way to what is arguably Cartmel's most famous export. A creative cocktail list includes spirits infused with Our Farm pickings – anyone for a woodruff Old Fashioned? – while the wine list leans towards natural styles, suggesting plenty of 125ml pours before topping out at £185 for a Californian Cabernet. Service is notable, from the confidence of a young apprentice waiter to the expertise of restaurant manager Kayleigh Thorogood.

‘We knew Seasonality had an excellent reputation... It exceeded our expectations... We were blown away.’ So enthused one visitor to Wesley and Francesca Smalley’s well-run modern restaurant, which can be found in a parade of shops in an ‘up and coming retail area’ just off Maidenhead town centre. The bright interior is dominated by a gleaming central island kitchen that is Wesley Smalley's domain. Here, he conjures up a roster of assured, seasonally inspired dishes, while also finding time to greet customers when they arrive.

His smart, high-quality menu is peppered with tasteful, quirky details and delicious enticements – one diner raved about a cheese soufflé that was ‘like eating a soft cloud, full of flavour’. Others have praised the excellent wild mushroom-stuffed pasta, the sea trout tartare, and the smoked haddock kedgeree, while an ‘outstanding’ short rib of beef with sherry, alliums and potato, and ‘wonderfully tender’ pork fillet with swede, white soy, sesame and cucumber were outright winners for several reporters.

Deserts such as a blackcurrant and lemon-verbena meringue and a deconstructed cherry Bakewell tart (accompanied by ‘the best vanilla ice cream I have ever had’) maintain Seasonality's enviably high standards to the very end. Just add charming service and a wine list that's arranged by style and weight, with a good choice by the glass.

‘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.

As you might expect from the restaurant's name, Skye Gyngell's inspired cooking is a joyous celebration of all things seasonal, and she is always seeking 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.

A shining beacon on the edge of the romantically desolate North York Moors, the Black Swan is a stone-built inn, now more obviously a regional restaurant with rooms. Inside, it has been daringly reconfigured for its contemporary purpose, with spare modern furniture and unclothed tables against a backdrop of thick stone and heavy beams.

Former civil servant Alice Power is the latest incumbent in the Swan's kitchen, disposing over two acres of kitchen garden, overseeing a tireless foraging operation, and maintaining the format of a lengthy taster of around a dozen stages – a menu structure that crucially depends on robust endurance. That said, there is no sense of overload about these dishes, largely because they don't go heavy on carbs.

First nibbles evoke excited first impressions, from smoked eel and oscietra caviar with fennel pollen to a bite-sized chunk of truffled roe deer with celeriac. Foraged ingredients provide the haunting aromatics in dishes ranging from scallop and leek with spruce to lobster with salt-cured rhubarb and lemon verbena. A thrifty approach to meats might find locally shot partridge served first in a broth, followed by its heart and liver with chestnuts, a leg with elderberry and fir, and finally the roasted breast with Pablo beetroot and bread sauce.

An innovative approach to desserts ensures that the latter stages of the production are among the most memorable: mushroom-dusted chocolate ganache with meringue and chocolate/honey pieces, as well as yoghurt ice cream with wood sorrel and Douglas fir oil applied at the table. The rather over-rehearsed mood of service – often a feature of the tasting format – would benefit from relaxing a little.

Three levels of wine flight are offered to accompany the cavalcade of flavours, ranging from ‘experimental and adventurous’, through ‘grand and classic’ to ‘rare and exceptional’, depending on depth of pocket. The first might embrace a Naoussa Xinomavro with that partridge, the second a 2009 Beaune premier cru ‘Les Epenottes’, the last Calera's 2008 Pinot Noir from Sonoma, California.

‘I have felt welcome and at home here for many years,' comments one regular. Some restaurants can make you happy as soon as you step over the threshold. Such is the case at this locally loved eatery tucked within a farmers' market, a stone’s throw from Canterbury West station. With its own farm and deep connection with local producers – the Goods Shed celebrates its quarter centenary in 2025 – it fits the whole farmers’ market ethos perfectly: you’ll often see a chef picking out produce from the market stalls.

There are no tasting menus here, just a daily changing blackboard with about five choices per course. Former sous-chef Morgan Lewis has taken over the kitchen, and his devotedly seasonal and unfettered menu doesn’t beat about the bush, delivering the likes of grilled squid with lemon and green sauce or cold roast pork with anchoïade, fried capers and pickled cucumber – two starters that say it all. Generous mains are often reboot of old-school classics such as a meaty pork chop with a richly indulgent cauliflower purée, cauliflower salad and a glossy, meaty sauce. Or you could savour a brandade fishcake with a butter sauce dotted with caviar and topped with rocket and salmon roe.

To finish, choux buns filled with strawberry and vodka ice cream and white chocolate provide a perfect parting shot. To drinks, there’s a brief, efficient list of European (and English) wines plus a small selection of cocktails, as well as a decent line-up of Kentish ales and cider. Charming service seals the deal.

Images: Sally Gurteen

Maybe it’s the gentle lamplight and daisy-fresh posies on every table, or the bistro-style paper over chequered linen, or the cushioned comfort of the seats in this vast converted barn. Or maybe it’s the reliably delicious food on a menu whose appeal doesn’t fade with the years. There’s something reassuring about a meal here. You won’t find experimental cooking, no dibs, dabs and dots, but you will find generosity of flavour (and portions), and a firm sense of place. The kitchen looks first to its immediate surrounds for ingredients. The Wyken Estate provides abundant game – perhaps roast pheasant with celeriac, cabbage and bacon, or venison, roasted till just pink and served with pickled, puréed and roasted cauliflower and haggis bonbons. Asparagus from the Estate shines for its short few weeks, and the wider region amply delivers pork, seafood and produce according to season. Even the chocolates offered with coffee are hyper-local, made by former head chef Simon Woodrow. Chalk stream trout, albeit from further afield, makes a fine starter, the richness of the fish balanced with pops of pickled mustard seeds, slivers of fennel and the dill running through a spoonful of cream cheese. Follow it perhaps with duck breast, served perfectly tender alongside a faggot, crisp-edged dauphinoise and the vividly freshening flavour and colour of spring greens and rhubarb. Finish with a prettily presented iced pavlova which might sing with more of that rhubarb, or gooseberries or passion fruit depending on the time of year. Wines from the Wyken Vineyard are an obvious choice from the short, carefully selected list.

During lockdown, the green acres surrounding this enchanting converted vicarage were given a serious makeover, with the chefs mucking in alongside the horticulturists and landscaping experts. A new herb garden was laid out, rare fruit varieties were introduced into the orchard and a ‘wild meadow’ was created to increase biodiversity, with banks of herbs and decorative plants destined for the kitchen. And in case you needed reminding, this captivating prospect is just eight miles from Sheffield’s sprawling conurbations. Tessa Bramley has been the inspirational guiding spirit here for more than three decades; her cooking was properly grounded in nature long before it became the fashion, and her appetite for meticulously sourced seasonal produce has never waned. For its many fans, eating in the decorous surrounds of the Old Vicarage is ‘just about the perfect dining experience’, particularly if you opt for the ‘prestige’ tasting menu (a daily ‘short menu’ is also available, with dishes recited at the table). ‘Beautifully matched flavours and textures’ are a given, and there’s an instinctive feel for what is right and natural on the plate – be it a dish of English asparagus and wild garlic (from the garden) with caramelised pumpkin seeds, confit egg yolk and herb oil or a sturdy helping of dry-aged Derbyshire beef (from Ashover), roasted with bone marrow and accompanied by braised fennel, mint cream and caraway-scented spring cabbage. Herbal flourishes are everywhere: a tarragon emulsion with marinated salmon; notes of lavender in a dish of spring lamb and baby turnips; lemon-thyme ice cream served alongside bittersweet orange curd and orange gel; sweet cicely sorbet accompanying a confection of bitter chocolate and hazelnut shortbread. The whole experience is perfectly orchestrated and ably executed by ‘well-trained, knowledgeable staff’, who also know their way around the restaurant’s intelligently chosen wine list. Big-name European estates and boutique New World growers share the spoils, but there is value too – if you are prepared to delve (bottles start at £25).

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.

The winner of our 2020 'Chef to Watch' award has justified the faith we had in him. Not only has Will Devlin opened another restaurant in the area (Birchwood at Flimwell), but he's also built up the marvellously rural Small Holding as a destination with a fondly loyal following. Readers are impressed by the unflustered efficiency with which it is run, and the measurable sense of refinement that has taken place in the cooking. The multi-course menu changes daily, and while the lack of choice may not suit everyone, there’s no doubting the quality of ingredients. What hasn’t been grown or reared on the one-acre plot (on splendid view from the large terrace fronting the simple white-painted building) is sought from small-scale sustainable artisan producers in the area. Nor does the cooking pile on ingredients or decorative bits for the sake of it, but concentrates on essentials. At one meal, a Maldon rock oyster was served with an ‘exceptional’ lovage cream, perfectly timed halibut came teamed with fermented wild garlic, sea herbs and a ‘sweet and delicate’ sauce made with Squerreyes sparkling wine and chives, while hogget (two-year-old lamb) served various ways – pink rump with tenderstem broccoli, sweetbreads glazed with honey, a brioche bun made with hogget fat and stuffed with lamb shoulder – was beyond reproach. Desserts tend to stick to a theme of iced and crumbed things, though an apple sorbet offset by some aged cider vinegar and sprinkled with powdered pine was a masterful play of sweetness and acidity. An enticingly broad-minded, well-sourced wine list includes a good selection of Kentish labels.

Originally a tiny garret above Bath’s deservedly popular Landrace community bakery (recently doubled in size), this charmingly relaxed and welcoming small-plates bistro has since expanded into a more generously proportioned second room. Stone walls adorned with framed posters and high shelves lined with empty wine bottles provide the decoration here. A corner bar with counter seats complements the black-topped tables on the scruffy wood floor.

Chef Rob Sachdev’s passion for sourcing incredible produce as locally as possible is evident throughout the menu. Sharing is the name of the game here, with dishes ranging in size from generous snacks to full-on main courses. Take it from our reporters, you'll kick yourself if you don’t start with the Cheddar curd fritters. Among the small plates, a thrillingly super-fresh combo of ewe’s curd, pea, broad-bean tops and crostini, glistening under a slick of grass-green olive oil, positively sings of summer. 

Larger dishes always include some seasonal pasta (perhaps nettle tagliatelle with Wye Valley asparagus or pappardelle with Westcombe veal ragù, sage and Parmesan) alongside complex and satisfying ideas such as beef rump with chickpeas, rainbow chard and salsa verde. Desserts, meanwhile, are a great advert for the bakery's patisserie skills, as in a warm cherry and almond tart (moreish, rich and crumbly) or pain perdu with lemon curd and candied zest. An adventurous list of natural and biodynamic wines offers a chance to be pleasantly surprised by something new: even the house white – a boldly flavoured, organic Catarratto from Sicily – doesn't play it safe. 

Scoring a table at Vanderlyle should trigger triumphant fanfares through the streets of Cambridge. This plant-led restaurant on independently minded Mill Road has the most ardent admirers, who are quick on the Tock reservation site every month to book their fix of Alex Rushmer’s thoughtful cooking. They’re drawn by the chef’s flavour-packed, vividly creative vegetarian cuisine, which defies ‘hungry gap’ privations to celebrate what’s available and hint at what’s to come. A mixed seed cracker snaps the six-course dinner into action with brio, a vehicle for cashew parfait (who needs the livery stuff tonight?) brightened with the tiniest dots of clementine gel; a mini doughnut bounces to the table too, bringing happy 'cheese toastie' vibes thanks to a Sussex camembert custard and homemade chutney. Squash takes its seasonal bow in one delightful little cup of golden-orange soup swirled with coriander oil and scattered with soy-toasted pumpkin seeds. If you haven’t eaten all that malty wholegrain focaccia, now’s the time to mop. Charred gem lettuce with a caviar-freckled seaweed butter sauce and a little heap of batter scraps follows, sea herbs and bitter leaves sweeping in to balance the richness with living, spring-like minerality. A glass of Auxerrois from Davenport’s Sussex vineyards keeps the brightness going, so too the oceanic pep of an alcohol-free Pentire and tonic. The care taken with alcohol-free pairings and seasonal cordials is notable – witness the house-made apple kombucha with soda water, brimful with the spirit of farmhouse cider and a brilliant match for butter-roasted, soused and puréed turnip with turnip-top gremolata, Granny Smith apple and hazelnut-butter vinaigrette. Parsnip and vanilla ice cream heralds dessert, the earthy savouriness of the root veg lifted by prettily pink sweet-sharp rhubarb; it’s followed by a Pump Street chocolate crémeux – a silky finale with griottine cherries and a little agrodolce giving their fruity acidity, a chocolate feuilletine and spelt streusel their texture, and a glass of velvety, caramelly cream sherry slipping down a treat.

* From November 2024, the restaurant will be popping up in Manchester city centre for a five-month residency while the original site undergoes extensive maintenance work.*

Trickily located on the top floor of a former coffee warehouse down a Dickensian alley (beware the steep stone steps outside), WTLGI looks the part with its brick walls, bare boards and wooden beams. It’s loft living, Stockport-style. Large windows with rooftop views actually do let in the light, while round tables and Shaker-style chairs are arranged so that the latter face the open kitchen at the far end of the room, where you can sit at a counter even closer to the action. The layout signals culinary theatricality; the design suggests commitment to transparency.

Sam Buckley (ex-L’Enclume) has stuck to his principled guns since hitting Greater Manchester with a bang in 2016. Since then, his restaurant has stayed in the vanguard of ethical, sustainable, seasonal and local food sourcing, with a lovely kitchen garden on top of a shopping centre, a spin-off artisan bakery, and a 'whole animal, nose-to-tail' policy. As a model of urban sustainability, democratic operation and worthy social intent, it's hard to fault. The vibe is laid-back but the staff have been well drilled when it comes to the details of dishes, ingredients and provenance.

The blind tasting menu (non-refundable, paid in advance) brooks no alterations other than advance requests regarding allergies, and is a three-and-a-half-hour marathon. A wine flight from the eclectic, low-intervention list cost an extra £75 when we visited, although there is also a good choice by the glass. All the modish, Nordic-style techniques are present and correct: fermentation, pickling, brining, dehydration and the rest. The compositions are skilled and complex – a standout being the beetroot and black garlic tart with pickled and smoked beetroot, black garlic and puffed pearl barley that opened our meal – although portions are tiny. Size also impacts the identity of individual ingredients: sea buckthorn berries ‘foraged on Formby beach’ were too sparse to cut through a piece of rich Cornish monkfish liver. Despite some clever presentational tricks, execution was also less than faultless – under-cooked potato risotto, a stodgy sponge pudding of Tarocco blood oranges.

While this restaurant is idiosyncratic and brave, it also polarises diners: too little food, too expensive, too self-important when it should be innovative, exacting and exceptional. WTLGI commands a loyal following but does a reboot beckon, lest it become WTLRS, Where The Light Rarely Shines?

Locals wandering down Chandos Road have become accustomed to Wilsons' stained glass sign adorned with stylised cauliflowers, leeks, onions and peppers – their colours glowing vividly whenever the Redland sun shines. The sign is, in fact, rather old: a family heirloom inherited by current owner Mary Wilson, rescued from a restaurant of the same name that operated in west London some decades ago. Nonetheless, it serves as a fitting mission statement for the modern establishment it now advertises, with the emphasis on bright flavours, bright ideas – and, above all, fresh produce.

Wilsons has grown steadily in stature since 2016 – thanks in part to its smallholding, which sits under the flight path to Bristol Airport, and now supplies all vegetables and herbs for the restaurant. Meanwhile, the small, whitewashed dining room is sparsely adorned, apart from a blackboard listing the chalked-up tasting menu and a pair of antlers mounted over the kitchen – where head chef Jan Ostle's own creativity takes flight. 

Our visit opened with a tiny, tangy portion of rich red mullet and clementine soup, swiftly succeeded by bread from Wilsons' bakery next door, accompanied by moreish buttermilk pheasant and light-as-air taramasalata. There was the faintest foretaste of spring in a dish of sea bass with parsley, labneh and wild garlic ‘capers’, and midwinter comfort in the standout serving of lightly cooked monkfish, grilled celeriac, onion and fig leaf. Punchy, gamey flavours predominated, not least in a ‘very red’ combo of perfectly cooked mallard, beetroot and rhubarb, all half-hidden beneath a January King cabbage leaf.

A few pilgrims come for Wilsons’ sublime signature dessert of tarte tatin with bay-leaf ice cream, but many more are attracted by the prospect of a neighbourhood restaurant that delivers against so many metrics: affable staff, green credentials and a thoughtfully assembled wine list – plus a kitchen that knows precisely when to surprise and when to satisfy its customers with value as well as quality.