Best restaurants in Shoreditch & Spitalfields
Published 23 November 2023

All-round appeal, a boisterous vibe and egalitarian prices are three reasons to be cheerful at this branch of the Blacklock mini chain, housed in the shell of an old furniture factory not far from Old Street station. The decor is standard-issue industrial-chic, the food reinvented chophouse victuals – deliciously crusted, smoky hunks of meat in various guises. Get started by ordering some ‘pre-chop bites’ (potted meats fired up with kimchi, say), before tackling the bigger stuff.

The chain takes its name from the vintage Blacklock irons used for grilling its blushing-pink ‘skinny chops’, but you can also feast on ‘doorstop-thick’ prime ribs, lamb rumps and various grass-fed, dry-aged steaks – although the top deal for sharing is the £27 ‘all in’ offer (a stack of beef, pork and lamb piled high on herb-flecked chargrilled flatbreads to soak up the juices). Sauces, sides and salads bump up the offer, rendering the limited choice of puds almost superfluous (althout it wouild be a sin to miss the white chocolate cheesecake doled out with ‘say when’ generosity.

Blacklock is also famed for its nostalgic Sunday lunch. Whole joints are roasted the old-fashioned way and the revelling continues through the day – be warned, bookings are at a premium. If you're in a group, order the ‘all in’ offer of three different meats with sides, veg and limitless gravy. Own-label beers, wines on tap and trendy cocktails from the trolley ensure that the good times roll. 

What was once a pole-dancing bar is now a wood-panelled restaurant devoted to 'live fire' cooking. This is Tomos Parry’s flagship Brat (he also runs Climpson’s Arch in Hackney, where the concept originated) and, loosely, it pays homage to Basque cooking. Indeed, the first thing to hit you as you ascend the stairs – it's above Smoking Goat – is the smell of the grill; the second is the sound of diners eating, drinking, chatting and laughing. There’s no such thing as a quiet lunch in this tightly packed dining room. The thing to do, if funds allow, is to come with friends and enjoy a whopping great turbot (from £150, to feed four) or a juicy beef rib. Otherwise, fear not, the menu covers a lot of ground, from Menai oysters and seasonal vegetables (such as peas or young English corn) to crustacea, sausages and chops. It’s often the simplest things that surprise. Peppers from Flourish Produce in Cambridgeshire are essentially pimientos de Padrón, grilled, oiled and salted in the Spanish style but here tossed with chopped herbs. The addition is a revelation. Next, the grilled bread with anchovies, famous on Instagram but surprisingly underwhelming in reality (there’s no shortage of blistered buttery naan in east London). Velvet crab soup looks spectacular with its crown of crab shells and bobbing mussels, and it tastes profoundly of the sea – a bold dish. Main courses might be plaice pil pil with cockles, lemon sole or paella-esque roast duck rice served with the bird's heart and slices of rare breast. To finish, crème caramel is a textbook example. The wine list fits a page of A4, with a good choice of styles and grapes from across Europe, at fair-for-Shoreditch prices.

The atmosphere is casual at this modern, lively restaurant and bar with its polished concrete floor, exposed steel girders and natural timber tables. Popular with young professionals from the area’s hi-tech Silicon Roundabout hub, a meal here is a joyful, head-spinning whirl around the culinary globe. Part of Richard Corrigan’s group of restaurants (Corrigan’s, Bentley’s), Daffodil Muliigan's menu arguably comes closest to representing the freewheeling, eclectic style that helped the chef make his name back in the 1990s. Tuck into the deliciously charred ember-baked bread (a large charcoal grill and wood-fired oven dominate the open kitchen) or the chef's famous soda bread with buttermilk and butter while you choose between more than 30 options on the regularly changing menu. Look out for the signatures: Hereford beef tartare with oyster cream; pig's cheek skewers with tamarind and brown crab chip-shop sauce, and the addictive salt-chilli fried chicken. But there is much else to tempt. A full-flavoured, richly satisfying twice-baked crab and Parmesan soufflé accompanied by a delicately smoky bisque hollandaise perhaps, or a generously proportioned and hugely enjoyable lamb dish – cutlet, loin and slow-cooked belly – served with caponata, black olive crumb and ricotta. For dessert, traditionalists should stick with the classic chocolate fondant with caramel and sea salt; alternatives such as Jerusalem artichoke with chocolate and coffee, or ‘tea and cereal’ (featuring a heavily smoked prune purée with tea-marinated prunes, hay-infused ice cream and puffed rice) may prove a bridge too far. Lunchtime deals are a bargain, service is friendly, efficient and attentive, and the fairly short wine list opens at £30. If the convivial atmosphere gets you in the party mood, head to the atmospheric Gibney’s basement bar for an excellent pint of Irish stout to go with a programme of live music, comedy and sports broadcasts.

'A slick well-oiled machine that never seems to disappoint,’ observed one reader, which may explain the queues that appear outside this converted Shoreditch warehouse. This is East London, so expect flashes of industrial chic and a clamorous buzz to go with Dishoom’s razzmatazz homage to Bombay’s classless Irani cafés. Whirring ceiling fans, vintage artefacts, sepia prints and marble-topped tables create a delightfully idiosyncratic vibe, and there’s also a verandah for alfresco socialising.

On offer is a lively all-day menu of Anglo-Indian sustenance that runs from breakfast onwards. Kick-start the day with kejriwal (fried eggs on chilli cheese toast) or one of the famous naan rolls; alternatively, sort out lunch with a couple small plates (perhaps some ‘delightfully spiced’ lamb samosas or chicken and mango salad) or feast on something more substantial. Various tikkas, tandooris and ‘mouth-wateringly moist’ chicken malai share the billing with slow-cooked biryanis, ‘Ruby Murrays’ and the house special – richly spiced rara gosht (lamb shank and lamb mince vigorously mingled together) with a roomali roti.

To finish, a ‘silky-smooth’ kulfi on a stick fits the bill admirably, unless you fancy indulging in Dishoom's ‘melting-in-the-middle’ chocolate pudding served with a scoop of Kashmiri chilli ice cream. Drinkers are offered a bewildering array of ‘sharbats’, esoteric beers, wines and cocktails including the pink and pretty Bollybellini.

Slip away from the frenzy that surrounds Liverpool Street station into this charming little piece of Paris (formerly Galvin Hop). You’ll find all the expected tropes here: red-check tablecloths, windows stencilled with brass letters advertising ‘bière’ and ‘tarte flambée’, and efficient waiters in blue-striped tops. Order up a bowlful of blistered Padrón peppers, or share one of those snackably crisp tartes. Move on to a chunky pork terrine studded with whole pistachios, sweetened with prunes and perked up with pickles – or a serving of burrata, whose mild softness is invigorated by a draping of Bayonne ham and the charred edge of roasted delica pumpkin. Mains could be a piece of pearly cod on a heap of creamy coco de Paimpol beans with wilted spinach, or Ibérico pork that ripples with flavour-giving fat and comes with celeriac, caramelised apple and chunks of black pudding to create an autumnal feast of a dish – the standout of our October visit. To finish? A classic tarte tatin could fit the bill, or a bright buttermilk panna cotta heaped with blackberries and scattered with shortbread. It’s always good to see wines by the 500ml carafe – in keeping with the Parisian bistro vibe. Look out for the lunchtime prix-fixe – £28 for three courses – if you fancy lingering over a déjeuner that’s easier on the pocket than many similar restaurants.

Through an entrance draped with hanging flora, La Chapelle makes the most instant statement of all the Galvin brothers' venues. Celebrating 17 years in 2026, it's a cavernous, high-ceilinged space with swagged marble pillars and sky-high windows, sultrily lit of an evening to ensure that it feels like a proper occasion. Service of exemplary courtesy helps no end as well. The kitchen deals in a style of modern French cuisine with interesting twiddles. A duck terrine of leg and liver comes with pain d'épices of mandarin and coffee, scallops and crab are fashioned into a reimagined lasagne in beurre nantais, and Yorkshire rhubarb turns up with dark chocolate in a sauce for a barbecued Bresse pigeon. Fish could be Scottish lobster in a construction with fregola, buffalo mozzarella, preserved lemon, tuna bottarga and wild rocket. Also look out for new dishes such as a ballotine of Orkney scallop with gambero rosso, squid-ink aïoli, kimchi water and nasturtium oil. The precision of presentations matches the accuracy of timing and seasoning in these dishes, and the same is true of something as textbook as tarte tatin with Normandy crème fraîche, or the satisfyingly liquorous rum baba dressed in blood-orange and Espelette chilli. The 'gourmand' menu comes in a vegan version to show that all may enter the kingdom. Wines are a classy Eurocentric coterie, with a useful range by the small glass. Note that the restaurant is open all week and even provides a Sunday lunch.

Named after a potent South Indian spice mix, not the black chemical explosive, this cute, cosy and cramped canteen on a backstreet near Spitalfields Market is East London’s take on a traditional Indian roadside dhaba. You can’t book, space is tight, and the decor is bare bones (think exposed brickwork, functional furnishings and no-frills crockery), but the kitchen delivers on its promise. Home-style recipes from the owners’ native Kolkata are reworked and recast as intriguing small plates with plenty of up-front fire and spice – as in egg curry masala, the house chaat with Norfolk potatoes or punchy venison and vermicelli doughnuts (a top call on the succinct menu). Alternatively, if sharing is your preference, go for bigger plates such as steamed sea bass infused with mustard, pork ribs and tamarind kachumbar or spinach with tandoori paneer. For afters, the must-have dessert is the Old Monk rum pudding – a boozy ‘bread and butter’ riff, served with an extra shot of liquor if you want it. Two dozen spice-friendly wines (from £30) match the food; otherwise, plump for a can of thirst-quenching Disco lager or a frisky gin wala Negroni. 

Back in 2006, this is where it all started for Will Beckett and Huw Gott – founders of the steakhouse group that now has branches across London and beyond. Located near Christ Church Spitalfields, whose architect (Nicholas Hawksmoor) provided the name, the group stakes its reputation on dry-aged beef from native British herds. Joyously flavoursome cuts (T-bones, ribeyes, fillets, rumps and more besides) are priced by weight, chargrilled to order and served with the now-familiar Hawksmoor sauces and sides – anything from beef-dripping fries and grilled bone marrow to buttered greens, macaroni cheese and creamed spinach. Alternatively, ring the changes with chilli-spiked chargrilled sea bream or whole native lobster with garlic butter.

You can open your account with roast scallops in white port and garlic, potted beef and bacon with onion gravy or the house Caesar salad before concluding with the famed Ambassador chocolate bar, a wickedly indulgent sticky toffee sundae or yoghurt and lemon cheesecake. A daytime set menu pulls in those on tighter budgets, while Sunday roasts are an uninhibited meat fest built around a whole rump of slow-cooked 35-day aged rump of beef with myriad accompaniments including the most luscious bone-marrow and onion gravy.

The setting for all this is a glamorously refurbished, glossy space complete with swathes of green leather – although the venue also sports a must-visit basement bar where burgers and other Hawksmoor classics go down a treat with cocktails, beers and selections from Hawksmoor’s red-blooded wine list. Note that the bar is currently tailored for private hire, so check the website for updates.

Dan Anton and Zaw Mahesh started out with a pokey residency on Maltby Street Market, before transferring their fascinating Burmese cuisine to this bricks-and-mortar site in Shoreditch – a typically stylish spot that’s custom-built for the neighbourhood (metal-grey paintwork, chic patterned upholstery, big square windows, palm fronds, bamboo plants). The look may be regulation East London cool, but the food is geographically (and sensorially) a fusion of Indian, Chinese and Thai – although its signature flavours are unmistakable. The word 'lahpet' means ‘tea’, so it’s not surprising that one of the highlights is laphet thohk (a super-crunchy salad packed with dried shrimps, chilli, raw garlic, double-fried beans and pickled/fermented tea leaves). But there is much more to explore here, from buttery yellow-pea parathas to large plates of slow-cooked pork curry with pickled mustard greens or hake masala on a fragrant rösti with charred lime. Also invest in a bowl of mohinga (catfish and lemongrass chowder with fried noodles). Lahpet’s buzzy vibe, keen prices and clued-up staff tick all the boxes. Drinks naturally include plenty of intriguing teas, as well as exotic cocktails and carefully selected wines.

Frequent queues stretching out of the door are testament to the daily popularity of this trendy modern Italian, which is marked by an ornamental boar's head suspended above the entrance. Manteca is that sort of place, a Shoreditch resource named boldly after a variety of fat – lard, to be precise. Ground floor seats offers views into the open kitchen, while downstairs refrigerated cabinets of home-cured charcuterie whet the appetite (salumi and prosciutto are tip-top and not to be missed). An infectious buzz animates the whole restaurant, augmented by piped tunes that some may find passably funky.

The kitchen is deadly serious about sourcing from the best suppliers, menus often change several times a day, and the chefs have the autonomy to put new dishes together on the fly. The result is a much less formulaic repertoire than is often the Italian case. A plate of line-caught sea bass crudo dressed with green strawberries was a seasonal treat on our most recent visit, while a dramatic swoop of rich, silky duck liver parfait was served with black date jam and a pile of craggy chargrilled bread. Hand-rolled pasta stars in fazzoletti with duck-fat pangrattato or tonnarelli with brown crab cacio e pepe, ahead of mains from the wood-fired oven – perhaps John Dory, plaice or a premium cut of longhorn beef. Finish with a doorstop helping of almond cake with stone-fruit and vanilla gelato.

A minimal-waste approach sees some of the beef fat turning up in the fudge with coffee, while the copiously unusable bits of globe artichoke might eventually find their way into the house cynar liqueur. Service is temperamentally patchy – mostly hail-fellow, occasionally glum. However, eminently kind pricing earns the places bonus points, especially as Italian wines on tap start at £5.50 a glass. Adventurous imbibers, meanwhile, should home in the sections of the list entitled ‘down the rabbit hole’.

*Nest is closing at the end of March, prior to relaunching as Tavern (a casual bistro concept) on 28 April 2026.*

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

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

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

Down a narrow Georgian alleyway not far from Liverpool Street and Old Spitalfields Market, this branch of Yotam Ottolenghi’s café/deli group follows the blueprint to the letter. A gleaming white frontage, clean-lined contemporary interiors and counters loaded with pastries, salads and flavourful Middle Eastern-inspired delicacies set the tone, but this outlet also boasts a dedicated takeaway counter and a separate bar for cocktails and low-intervention wines. Seasonal tempters from the kitchen might range from celeriac skewers with fragrant chilli oil and garlicky Lebanese toum to roasted mackerel with pickled kumquat and tomato salsa. Breakfast and afternoon tea are good calls too.

Following the closure of Cornerstone in Hackney Wick, chef-proprietor Tom Brown is now focusing his energy on this more accessible Spitalfields sibling. With Scandi-style minimalism and some counter seating, the small space may not be as comfortable as the his previous restaurant but it feels every inch the contemporary venue, divided between two floors with the kitchen open to view in the basement.

The brief menu kicks off with a handful of nibbles and oysters in various guises – perhaps raw with a hint of Scotch bonnet and a dash of lime, or a creamy pickled version with horseradish and celery. From a selection of small plates, we sampled cured gurnard in a silky, zesty pool of almond and blood orange, as well as an unusual umami-laden crab and Parmesan 'risotto' fritter. Shared centrepiece plates also delivered vivid flavours and on-point cooking – from a casserole of hearty cuttlefish lasagne with a decent blob of basil mayonnaise on the side to a meaty monkfish tail (on the bone), served with a delicious roast-chicken butter sauce. Overall, we loved Brown's simple, confident approach to top-quality seafood.

As a finale, try the ingenious sticky toffee madeleines with golden raisins and ginger cake or the signature PQ trifle with strawberries and vanilla custard. The whole place is run with great enthusiasm, while drinks encompass excellent cocktails, some natural wines, and a good choice of styles and grapes from across Europe and beyond – though prices climb quickly from their £37 entry point.

With its rough-hewn brickwork and bare café tables, Jon Lawson's small but jumping joint off Old Street suits Shoreditch down to the ground. There's a Moorish, as well as moreish, air to some of the dishes, backed up by rock-solid Italian credentials founded on pasta made fresh in-house each day. Upstairs is a more conventional restaurant setting, but the counter seating on the ground floor, with chefs in the thick of it right before your eyes, is where the beating heart of the action is.

Up-to-the-minute flavours are strewn across the menu, from grilled tenderstem broccoli with egg yolk and pecorino to Dorset crab salad with merinda tomatoes and bottarga. High rollers might opt for seared tuna steak with Umbrian lentil and rosemary dressing or grilled ribeye accompanied by celeriac, cavolo nero and horseradish, although it would be a mistake to ignore the pasta – perhaps agnolotti with pork cheek and porcini butter or gnudi bianco (‘naked ravioli’ of ricotta and cavolo nero sauce).

Finish with burnt Basque cheesecake and baked apricots or honey panna cotta with rose-petal advieh (a Persian spice mix). The short wine list includes the expected clutch of skin-contact whites and a bevy of high-octane Italian reds.

Whether it’s your first time or your fiftieth time at Rochelle Canteen, you can’t fail to feel a frisson when pressing the buzzer to gain admission. Is this the place? Is it open? But once inside the old building (formerly a school bike shed), seated in the glass-walled canteen or basking in the beautifully dappled light of the garden, you feel immediately at ease. The daily changing menu is a ‘celebration of all the things that we love most,' say owners Margot Henderson and Melanie Arnold, while the venue's many regulars share their enthusiasm for Anglo-European cookery, classic and modern. Typically, that might mean faggots with carrots and green sauce, French onion soup, cod cheeks with anchovy and rosemary, crab tart with a nicely dressed little salad, or sweetbreads with radishes, bacon and mint. For afters, steamed marmalade pudding, cherry parfait and plum pavlova are puds of the ‘proper’ persuasion. In short, Rochelle is pretty much idyllic – especially at lunchtime and especially in the summer. Wines (from £35) are European, and predominantly French.

Established in 2016 and found with some difficulty (signage is minimal) on a backstreet off Brick Lane, Smokestak is a project from chef David Carter, co-founder with Chris Leach of nearby Manteca. Its specialist subject is barbecue, as signposted by the monster smoker in the open kitchen, by the blackened walls, and by the weathered wooden furniture that almost looks like it’s had a few hours over the coals. It’s very cool, and not very comfortable. The signature pre-order brisket comes whole for the table (£175 at the time of writing), served in thick slices on a tin plate, or coiled inside a glossy bun with pickled red chillies – a reminder of the concept’s street-food origins. Hours of slow-cooking also work their magic on native-breed pork, pulled with green slaw in a bun. Two sharing menus cover all the classics. There are meat-free options too, such as watermelon salad with feta, cucumber and mint or coal-roasted aubergine with red miso and cashews, but you would hardly describe Smokestak as a place of pilgrimage for vegetarians. To drink, there's plenty of good stuff, including rum punch, blackcurrant Negronis, a few beers and a couple of dozen European wines of a natural bent.

Whether you’re in the mood for some affordable ’drinking food’ or fancy a ‘riotous all-out feast’, this fun and funky hangout beneath Brat in Shoreditch is one of the hottest Thai tickets in town. The large tables, loud music and big plastic plates lend themselves to a casual evening’s eating with plenty of booze to keep things motoring, while the vibe channels Bangkok’s late-night street-food canteens.

There’s no dumbing down when it comes to authenticity, spice levels or the use of offal, and the regularly changing menu is praised for its variety – though it's fair to say most regulars seldom deviate from their order of 'chilli fish sauce wings' (an easy-to-love fixture that never seems to get old). You can pick and mix or dip into each section of the menu: kick off with snacks such as mussels with nam prik pao, try one of the seasonal laabs (monkfish with green garlic), introduce a cooling element (plum, pear and rhubarb som tam, say), and share a larger dish from the grill – perhaps BBQ beef heart with herbs, smoked mutton with Thai basil or a spicy ‘pad phet’ stir-fry with hake ‘throats’.

The produce is notably good and sourced from top suppliers such as Flourish, Gothelney Farm and Kernowsashimi. To drink, there are craft ales, bottles of cider, cocktails (who could possibly resist a Maggot Brain?) and a short selection of natural wines with flavours and textures to temper the chilli-fire of the food.

It’s been nigh on a decade since Som Saa upgraded from a railway arch pop-up to its current premises in a former fabric warehouse on Commercial Street. Nonetheless, its popularity among Shoreditch diners is undiminished. Stepping inside, all is noise and energy: clattering chairs on bare floorboards, voices echoing around bare brick arches and a kitchen serving up vibrant, vigorously spiced Thai food.

Just as the post-industrial interiors are generally devoid of old Siam clichés (save for the odd rattan light and tropical foliage), the menu swerves the usual pad thais to present authentic regional flavours, with small plates shared between diners. Many go for the Tem Toh set, opening with tender hake and wild ginger fishcakes, before gaeng ped gung king orn – a fiery and flavoursome red curry of minced prawns, young ginger and pea aubergine (‘very rich, smokey and moreish’).

Some travel here specifically for the nahm dtok pla thort (whole sea bass with spices from the eastern Isaan region that gets picked to the bones); others for lesser known dishes such as gaeng om gai – a lighter curry of chicken, young watermelon and turmeric. Either way, everyone appreciates the sublimely sticky rice that arrives in its own little basket.

Finish off with kluey yaang – salted palm-sugar ice cream with turmeric-grilled banana. Our recent inspection revealed inconsistencies in the service, but there were no such grumbles for the well-rounded drinks menu, where a repertoire of imaginative Thai-themed cocktails starts at £9, and wines are neatly tailored to the spicy food. 

Almost two decades old, this offshoot of the original St John (housed in a former bank opposite Old Spitalfields Market) still retains something of that functional look – although the interior (close-packed wooden tables, whitewashed walls) now comes with bottles of wine, loaves of bread and blackboards by way of decoration. It’s the clatter and chatter of diners that lends the room its warm ambience. Menus, updated daily, speak to Britain’s historic foodways but feel fresh and modern. What you read is what you get: ‘Eccles cake and Lancashire cheese’; ‘smoked haddock, saffron and mash’; ‘boiled ham, carrots, and parsley sauce’; even ‘mushy courgettes’. It adheres to the nose-to-tail gospel of St John’s Fergus Henderson, so also expect heart, liver, kidneys and tails, alongside seasonal salads (cauliflower, leek and chickpeas) and vegetable dishes such as bobby beans with roast shallots and mustard. It’s rather fun to become reacquainted with specialities last seen in the Winnie the Pooh cookbook: jelly, prunes, sprats and anchovy toast, for example. Bread and wine, as the name suggests, are a focus. You can buy both to go, or you can sit down with a bottle from the all-French list which includes St John’s own-label Crémant de Limoux, Mâcon-Villages and claret.

There's a fascinating sense of disjunction between the formal stepped and pillared entrance to what was the former Shoreditch Town Hall and the unbuttoned ambience within, where bare wood floors and an open kitchen faced in blue tiles are very much in the contemporary mode. Isaac McHale's tasting menus (long or short) combine the popular touch with forthright innovative confidence – witness the explosive bursts of flavour in an opener of barbecued aubergine topped with white crabmeat, its dressings of brown crab bisque and dill oil further deepened with notes of ginger and cinnamon. A thoroughgoing effort to be resourceful in the use of ingredients means that prawn heads turn up alongside their tartare, while the bones of sardines go into a broth boosted à l'ancienne with cream and whisky to go with sardine sashimi, the latter delicately glazed in soy and chrysanthemum, but also powered up with mustard and Worcestershire sauce. Sea bass grilled over hazel wood comes to the table on its still-smoking skillet for a bit of performance art, while a main course of Middle White pork, ordinary enough in itself, embraces a mid-course supplementary serving of pulled meat and crackling in a taco. Temperature variations are wittily explored in a granita of grilled habanero chilli with ewe's milk yoghurt and plum sorbet. Dessert could be apricot-kernel mousse topped with a sugary tuile dusted with blitzed popcorn and puffed amaranth, underneath it all a slim disc of Victoria sponge, soaked in apricot syrup, bringing a twang of nostalgia to the finale. Low-intervention sips, skin-contact trendies and biodynamics make their voguish appearances on what is otherwise a fairly strait-laced wine list. Cocktails are absolutely worth a punt.

Dispensing big-city hospitality across four floors of an East London townhouse, this urban hostelry with sociable add-ons takes its name from the 17th-century botanist, physician and astrologer, Nicholas Culpeper, who lived nearby. For many, the heart of the action is the ground-floor ‘pub’ with its huge heritage windows, dangling light fittings, well-worn parquet floors and distinctive horseshoe-shaped bar – the perfect backdrop for supping local real ales, herb-infused cocktails and fairly priced Old World wines.

Moving upwards, the first floor is home to an airy restaurant dealing in full-flavoured seasonal dishes with broadly European overtones. House pickles, baguettes (from the Snapery East bakery) and Jersey butter set the scene for starters of wild garlic velouté or pig’s head and pistachio terrine with cornichons and Dijon mustard. Hearty, homespun flavours also characterise mains ranging from chicken leek and bacon pie or venison bourguignon to haddock with beurre blanc and fennel, while massive pork tomahawk steaks and côte de boeuf await those wanting to share. Desserts celebrate the Anglo-European classics, from crème brûlée and chocolate fondant to sticky toffee pudding with caramel sauce and Chantilly. Cheese lovers should also check the blackboard for the line-up of artisan Francophile specialities. On Sundays, ‘incredible roasts’ are served all day in both the bar and restaurant, although you must book ahead. 

At the very top of the building is a rooftop greenhouse housing a 10-seater private dining space, while the adjoining urban garden (open from May to October) is used for growing and harvesting organic herbs, fruit and vegetables – all driven by an ‘admirable sustainable ethos’.