Best restaurants in Clerkenwell
Published 09 February 2025

With various kiosk sites dotted around London, a Breddos cookbook and even an offshoot in Oslo, Nud Dudhia and Chris Whitney have come a long way since they started peddling tacos in a Hackney car park. Their makeshift shack is long gone, but some of the old street-food magic still inhabits this dinky but jumping joint in Clerkenwell: vinyl records spin on the decks, potted cacti adorn the surfaces, and a big communal table brings people together.

Creative global tacos are the headline acts, and the chefs work minor miracles with 12cm corn tortillas, daily salsas and mould-breaking combos lifted from the world larder. To start, consider some papas (crushed pink fir potatoes with garlic crema and wild honey), a tostada of sashimi-grade tuna or tamarind-spiked chicken wings dressed with pomegranate, honey and sesame. After that, dip into the signature dishes – perhaps masa fried chicken with habanero mayo or baja mushrooms with verde cruda and pico de gallo.

Otherwise, a plateful of chargrilled Middlewhite pork neck with 'chile de árbol', salsa verde and roasted pineapple should suffice – especially with three warm tortillas, some Mexican green rice and black beans on the side. Everything is ‘delicious and plentiful,’ noted one reader who dropped by for a quick bite on a rainy Saturday and ended up lingering through the afternoon. To drink, mezcal and tequila-based cocktails, micheladas and aguas frescas hit the spot; alternatively, there are a few wines on tap.

Originally conceived by the owners of the Clove Club, this ‘Britalian’ restaurant is almost as well-known for its bar as its restaurant –so it was with some reluctance that we bypassed the Negroni-based fun in favour of the dining room. Until we clapped eyes on the space itself, that is: a stunning covered garden worthy of a Roman palazzo. Seating is divided between an attractive cosmopolitan room and a terrace complete with a fireplace, cobbles and foliage (you can specify where you sit when you reserve). For the Luca-on-a-budget experience, try the bar, where lunch is currently £32 for two courses. Otherwise, those with cash to splash can knock themselves out with four courses, Italian-style, and a bottle or two from the impressive Italian list – specialist subject Barolo (sub-£50 bottles are few). Vitello tonnato may now be ubiquitous in London but we’ll never tire of it when it's as satisfying as this. The veal is more well done than is fashionable – a good thing – but is tender and flavoursome beneath a generous spoon of tonnato mayonnaise and a frisky celery, artichoke and lemon salad. Terrific stuff. Fresh pasta is a standout: mezzi paccheri with a pork sausage ragù gains depth from anchovy and freshness from mint, while green and yellow variegated ribbons of tagliatelle with rabbit, lardo and green olives are comforting and luxurious in equal measure. Secondi at inspection include Hebridean lamb with caponata, Hereford beef fillet and short rib, and a dish of John Dory with mussels, mousserons, Jersey Royals and a frothy lemon verbena sauce. Tiramisu, like your nonna might make, is a bravely unfancy finish; vanilla panna cotta with Yorkshire rhubarb is a nicely executed pairing, if lacking the ‘Luca’ signature that characterises the restaurant's best dishes. Overall, a confident operation. Credit, in particular, for setting a tone as conducive to business as it is to pleasure.

While Ben Marks and Matt Emerson's restaurant Perilla is known for its cool, bijou space, their second opening in Clerkenwell's Exmouth Market has gone large, taking over a former bank. It is grand in scale, buffed up by oak panelling, parquet flooring and oak furnishings, while arched wood-framed windows let in loads of natural light; there’s an adjacent wine bar, too. However, it can get noisy when it's busy due to all the hard surfaces and the clatter from the open-plan kitchen (with achingly uncomfortable counter seating), which sits bang in the centre of things. Still, Perilla and Morchella are proof that the best things do come in pairs – here the ambience is laid-back, with a great soundtrack and a bevy of friendly, relaxed staff.

Food-wise, expect a repertoire of Mediterranean-inspired dishes that are warming and generous: our snack of spinach and feta spanakopita wrapped in the most delicate filo pastry fitted the bill perfectly, while lobster spaghetti, served with a rich shellfish and tomato sauce topped off with fresh basil, was a perfect antidote to the dreary weather outside. The kitchen is equally adept with meat and we were impressed by a tender slow-cooked pork jowl with beautifully thin, crispy crackling) and a dollop of quince compôte. To finish, we recommend the black fig and fig-leaf choux bun.

There's a good-value set menu too, and the owners have nailed their vinous colours to the mast with a list of predominantly organic, biodynamic and European wines, categorised as ‘classic’, ‘coastal’ or ‘funky’. Those with a taste for cocktails aren't short-changed either. 

It may live in the shadow of celebrated big brother Moro next door, but tiny Morito still manages to go its own way – and it’s easy to see why the place is such a hit. Inside, all is elbow-to-elbow cramped but the vibe is infectious: the frenetic activity and the jostle for seats at squeezed-in tables ensure that the place invariably hums with life. It’s the perfect backdrop for sociable grazing – especially if you’re partial to rustic tapas suffused with the sunshine flavours of Spain, North Africa and the Middle East. Staples such as pan con tomate, boquerones and Padrón peppers are outdone by a vivacious daily repertoire that might bring asparagus a la plancha with cashew dukkah and chilli butter, monkfish rice with saffron and alioli or spiced lamb accompanied by aubergines, pomegranate and pine nuts – all served on (or in) ethnic glazed earthenware. Spanish cheese with membrillo and walnuts is a classic coupling, otherwise follow the sweet-toothed path with Malaga raisin and PX sherry ice cream or chocolate and olive-oil cake dressed with hazelnuts and sea salt. To drink, invigorating spritzes, aperitivos and vermouths are alternatives to wines by the glass or carafe from the compact but enticing all-Spanish list. Note that they now take limited bookings throughout the week; payment by card only.

When Sam and Samantha Clark opened Moro in 1997, it was an instant hit, seducing Londoners with its effervescent vibe and earthy Moorish cuisine. More than 25 years later, its pulling power and pizzazz are undiminished, although this pioneering 90s game-changer is now considered a mainstream classic. Moro has always put on a high-decibel show, whether you're people-watching from one of the pavement tables or soaking up the chatter and clatter of the dining room with its noisy open kitchen, zinc-topped bar and booming acoustics. The trade-off, of course, is the food. Heady spicing and sultry aromatic flavours weave their spell across a procession of seasonal ingredients-driven dishes. Wood-roasting and chargrilling are the star turns – from roast pork belly accompanied by peas, potatoes and anise with churrasco sauce to grilled sea bass with courgette salad (two ways), mint and chilli. Starters of pan-fried sweetbreads with preserved lemon and asparagus have plenty of oomph, while meat-free options might run to fresh morels with cherry tomatoes, white beans and sweet herbs. To conclude, few can resist the ever-present yoghurt cake with pistachios and pomegranate, but don’t discount the equally sought-after Malaga ice cream – or even a simple bowl of cherries in season. The fascinating all-Iberian wine list is stuffed with regional delights from £32.

A self-styled ‘progressive working-class caterer’ back in Victorian times, the Quality Chop House is still providing a great service under its current custodians, and its spirit is buoyant. QCH is moving with the times too – although the Grade II-listing ensures its heritage will always be faithfully preserved. In the main dining room, a central walkway with chequerboard flooring is flanked by oak benches and narrow tables with cast-iron legs, while an arched doorway offers a glimpse of the kitchen. The walls are partially panelled, with mirrors and chalkboards above. We thought the food was excellent, well-considered and ‘unapologetic in its excess’, with a few defiantly British faithfuls such as game and hazelnut terrine or Yorkshire mallard with January king cabbage rubbing shoulders with Euro-accented ideas including Suffolk lamb osso buco or Brixham pollack with brown shrimp grenobloise and celeriac. True to form, steaks and chops are the headliners: the fat cap on our mangalitza bacon chop was three-quarters of an inch thick and effortlessly melted in the mouth with an intense savouriness, while the lengthy wait for a slab of Hereford sirloin was justified by the appearance of the steak alone. Served sliced off the bone on antique crockery, the deep-brown crust lightly glistened in its own juices, while the flesh was deep-pink and cooked evenly throughout. To accompany, the much-imitated confit potatoes were wonderfully crisp, and Brussels tops made a welcome appearance gilded with Parmesan. If you still have room, desserts offer high-calorie comfort in the shape of, say, treacle tart with clotted cream or Pump Street chocolate mousse with Seville orange. Service is warm and attentive, with everything running seamlessly; staff are also spot-on when it comes to recommendations from the wide-ranging wine list. Quality Wines next door is also worth checking out.

Next door to the Quality Chop House, Quality Wines is a purveyor of good drinking, with a wine bar/restaurant added to its offer five days a week (Tue-Sat, lunch and dinner). Bentwood chairs, candles in wine bottles, and a central marble table do not disguise the fact that one is eating in an emporium – but that’s no criticism (unless the single basic loo bothers you). The atmosphere is convivial and the seasoned waiters greet many of the customers like old friends. Nick Bramham cooks with confidence. One has to applaud the sheer excess of a glossy bun rammed with fried octopus, pommes allumettes and more aïoli (whatever a cardiologist might have to say), while boiled Swiss chard with Cretan sheep's cheese and pine nuts is impressively restrained. Risotto primavera with asparagus, peas and courgettes, plus some oil and a few twists of pepper is Italian for comme il faut. For dessert, don’t miss the stunning pig-fat cannolo. The blackboard menu changes weekly but there’ll always be gildas, charcuterie and focaccia to nibble on while mulling the wine list. Selections by the glass change daily and bottles from the shelves can be purchased to drink in (expect to pay corkage). To give some idea of the range: a random sample might include Czech Riesling, a classic Loire Chenin, and a Sussex Pinot. 

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.

Three decades on, St John appears to have changed not one jot. Still the same whitewashed walls, the same squat wine glasses, the same commitment to ‘nose-to-tail’ cookery. When we visited, there was a dish on the daily menu from the restaurant's second cookbook (published 2007): called simply ‘kohlrabi’, it is simply kohlrabi – albeit mandolined and lavished with olive oil, lemon, capers and chervil. An excellent use of a maligned vegetable, but the £11 price tag speaks of 2025.

There's no doubt that eating at St John can sometimes test your faith. Our beef broth was straightforward enough, but the vegetables looked like they had been chopped by someone’s granny in a rush to get tea on the table (but, oh boy, can granny cook). Likewise, a serving of sea bass was no looker: battle-scarred from a hot pan, it came with slow-cooked fennel in a state of near-collapse and a Pernod-splashed liquor into which some anchovies had long since disappeared. A food stylist would shudder but, again, such flavour!

While some dishes such as the signature bone marrow and parsley salad still resemble exhibits in an edgy east London gallery, others look like they’ve emerged from the kitchen of an old Parisian bistro, where the chef no longer gives a fig about wooing Le Figaro. If they have a pair of tweezers in the cupboard, they’ll be for plucking bristles from pig's trotters, not garnishing quail's eggs with micro herbs. However, a serving of wild boar terrine (with cornichons and excellent sourdough) and a plate of mallard (with parsnips and pickled walnut) both successfully combine sharp looks and keen flavour.

‘Are paper tablecloths and one wine glass for all wines and water taking lack of pretension too far?’ asks one fan. We might say the same about a dessert plate that arrives with a chip in it the size of your thumbnail. That said, puddings are terrific and there are no fewer than 10 to choose from: our lemon pie had sticky, jammy citrus sandwiched between crisp, sugared pie crust, while chocolate mousse was made from first-rate confectionery. The wine list is the type you'd find in a Parisian bistro, with a tip-top house pour, St John Rouge, ushering in a glorious selection from the French regions.

Since landing on Farringdon Road in 1991, the Eagle has staked its claim as one of the originators of the so-called ‘gastropub’ genre. This lively, ever-popular boozer has resisted all forms of gentrification over the years, and remains, most assuredly, a pub. Small tables and bar stools around the perimeter are defined as 'free seating', although you can book. Order at the bar, choosing beer from the row of taps (try a craft keg from the guys who opened the Hackney Brewery) and food from the day’s menu scrawled on the board over the stove.

Edward Mottershaw (only the pub’s third ever head chef) cooks gutsy, country food from across Europe, but mostly from Italy and the Iberian Peninsula. The ‘bife ana’ rump steak sandwich has been on the menu since day one and it still reigns supreme for many punters – although others prefer the heartier seasonally adapted dishes. On a typical day you might find hake steak with lentils and salsa cruda, roast pork belly with braised peas, celeriac and pickled cabbage or grilled aubergine with tzatziki, followed by the near-ubiquitous burnt Basque cheesecake.

Spain dominates the cracking list of quaffable and affordable wines, or you could plump for a well-mixed cocktail such as Dark & Stormy – or even the Eagle's famously thirst-quenching Rock Shandy. ‘No fuss, no frills and everything is done with a lot of love,’ concluded an inspector.