Best restaurants in Soho
Published 27 February 2023

Deep in the heart of Soho, Andrew Edmunds (named for the guiding light who sadly passed away in 2022) has been a bulwark of Franco-Mediterranean bistro dining in the gloriously unreconstructed style for what feels like forever. It's a mode of cooking for which there will be a ready audience among the British, for as long as one person can still earn a living by cooking for another. Hand-scrawled menus (remember to bring your lorgnette) and plastic signs prevent any part of the proceedings from veering towards inappropriate glossiness, and the food is dependable to the last cornichon. 

To start, pork and venison terrine with pickled red cabbage and toast might vie with seasonal asparagus in sauce gribiche, or a more obviously Italianate burrata with blood-orange and toasted almonds. After that, fish is a particular strength for main course, perhaps a chunk of pearlescent hake with spinach and fennel in salsa verde, while meat might offer the fortifying likes of roast rabbit leg on lentils with carrots and picked walnuts. Indulge yourself at dessert with chocolate pavé, for which they've boozed up some raisins, or there could be meringue with poached loquats and Chantilly. 

The wine list has long been one of the glories of the place, with battalions of superstars passing in review like nations at an Olympic marchpast. Mark-ups are certainly not what newcomers will expect in central London, which only adds to the temptation to splash out. There are a few aperitif cocktails of the old school, although our request for a classic Martini stumped them.

Tucked in an alleyway linking Wardour Street and Dean Street, this offshoot of Simon Rogan’s Aulis in Cartmel (home to L’Enclume) has undergone a thoroughgoing makeover. Expansion into the small shop next door has created a proper entrance leading straight into a tiny bar-lounge where pre-meal drinks and snacks are served. The reconfigured kitchen continues to offer high-stool counter dining, although the seats themselves (now 12 in number) are better spaced and more comfortable. The style remains the same, an astonishing, multi-course tasting experience prepared and explained in front of you (there’s is no printed menu), with dishes passed over the counter. Unfussy, serene and slightly spartan, ­it’s run with relaxing warmth by charismatic head chef Charlie Tayler and sommelier Charles Brown. Regular deliveries from Rogan’s Cartmel-based farm are supplemented by tip-top produce from elsewhere in the UK, and Tayler's supremely assured culinary approach is all about inherent simplicity, clever balance and pinpoint precision. Snacks are bijou masterpieces of the genre, from a brilliant mini truffle pudding caramelised in birch sap with fermented black garlic and a heap of shaved Welsh black truffle on top to a nugget of Launceston lamb belly glazed in ‘our miso’ with perilla and ‘capers’ (a clever riff employing pickled green elderberries). To follow, Newlyn crab custard is a deft conceit involving a sauce infused with rosehip vinegar, plus dabs of marinated trout roe adding pops of saltiness, while a raw, sliced Orkney scallop surprises with its rich, buttery, smoky sauce of wild chamomile, buttermilk and smoked pike roe. And then there is the turbot, served with a wondrous sauce created from a stock of smoked turbot bones and swirled with lovage oil. On the side is a tiny English muffin to mop up juices, while heavenly oven-fresh Parker House rolls (made with 100% beef fat) accompany a piece of 45-day dry-aged Hereford Breed beef garlanded with kale leaves. Like everything else on offer here, desserts are seasonal, clever and innovative – standouts at our last visit being frozen Tunworth cheese ice cream drizzled with London borage honey (so simple yet so satisfying), as well as a joyous summertime assembly of strawberry (fruit and sorbet) with buttermilk custard and apple marigold. With no menu to consult, knowledgeable wine advice comes as standard. Charles Brown’s recommendations are always fascinating, whether you are seeking guidance or opting for one of his suggested wine flights.

More spacious than the Covent Garden original, this Soho offshoot of Bancone has a lot going for it – including a semi-secret basement that doubles as a cocktail bar, a bevy of smiley staff and a menu that majors in faultless hand-crafted pasta. The Insta-grabbing ‘silk handkerchiefs’ of fazzoletti with walnut butter and confit egg yolk continue to impress, although the line-up of fresh, flavourful specialities might also run to tagliatelle with spicy pork and ‘nduja ragù or charcoal tagliolini accompanied by squid and pickled jalapeño. The main event is bookended by the likes of fried artichokes with romesco and desserts such as pistachio cannoli with candied orange. Keenly priced Italian regional wines too.

It may have started out as a ‘gazebo with a cool box’, but the dinky original branch of hot-ticket Taiwanese bun specialist Bao is now something of a legend among the capital’s ‘walk-in’ restaurants. Long queues snake down Lexington Street whatever the weather, but it’s worth the slog once you’re inside and have the tick-box menu in front of you. Fluffy steamed bao buns are the main event here, ranging from the classic braised pork with peanut powder and fermented greens to fried chicken marinated in soy milk with Szechuan mayo and golden kimchi. Just add some tantalising xiao chi snacks (pig’s blood cake with soy-cured egg; mapo aubergine on chi shiang rice), plus sides such as sweet potato chips with plum pickle ketchup. Also order a glass of homemade peanut milk and don’t forget to put your final tick against the fried bao filled with Horlicks ice cream. Although the food is made for sharing, this branch is perfect for singletons and even has a special ‘long day menu’ promising ‘a perfect moment of solitude for the solo diner’. A shot of bao-friendly ‘weeping saké’ does the trick or you could investigate the kooky ‘dream drinks’ (grape soda with aloe vera foam, say).

A useful address on Kingly Street, this tiny corridor of a wine bar – high stools, tapas-style tables, a scattering of outside seating – is the place to come for a glass of wine and tasty, snacky food ranging from plates of Neal's Yard cheese and Cobble Lane coppa to an excellent beef sando (with a vibrant purée of dill and pickled cucumber). An interesting and unusual list of low-intervention wines from European producers, plus a couple of cocktails, keep this relaxed spot nicely buzzing.

This spot-on take on the classic tapas bar is authentically, some say irritatingly, reservation-free – unlike Barrafina's other branches in the capital (Adelaide Street, Drury Lane, Borough Yards and King’s Cross). Inside, just 28 high stools are lined up along the length of the L-shaped kitchen counter to accommodate diners (there are some pavement tables too). The attraction is not only the lively, informal vibe but also the theatre of dishes cooked in front of you – a line-up of top-drawer tapas rendered as simply as possible. Freshness is the key (especially when it comes to seafood) and you can sample the results by ordering from the standard placemat menu: made-to-order mini tortillas, croquetas, chipirones, gambas rojos, pluma Ibérico with confit potatoes. Even better is the little specials board, a daily changing roster of more creative dishes along the lines of fresh grilled mackerel slathered in a bright, garlicky chimichurri sauce or a plate of lamb's sweetbreads with fresh peas, cooked in a richly lip-smacking sauce that we found especially impressive. Crema catalana and Santiago tart are the never-off-the-menu desserts. Spanish regional wines by the glass, carafe or bottle match the food perfectly, likewise a big choice of sherries – including the Hart brothers’ own-brand manzanilla.

To put it mildly, ’this is really a place for people who love spice,’ commented one visitor to Barshu – a no-nonsense exponent of uncompromising, full-throttle Szechuan cuisine on the fringes of Soho Chinatown. Spread over two floors, it’s dressed up with stone carvings, Chinese opera masks, colourful wall panels and shrines with fruit offerings. Expect a cosmopolitan crowd, who are here for palate-tingling thrills and gastronomic curiosities: anyone for marinated bran dough, a broth of braised pig’s stomach, 'pock-marked old woman beancurd' or deep-fried glutinous rice cake with melted brown sugar? Ingredients are variously ‘water-boiled’, dry-wokked, pounded, smacked and stewed – and that’s just the beginning. To order, simply mark up your choices on the sheets of paper provided. The roast sea bass is a best-seller, a crisp-skinned whole fish enlivened with two types of Szechuan peppercorns, various chillies, garlic, lotus root, cauliflower and tofu skin; order a bowl of steamed rice to soak up the signature ‘numbing and spicy sauce’, plus some greens such as garlicky stir-fried morning glory. If you really can't stand the heat, there are also some milder dishes including steamed scallops with bean-thread noodles. Portions are big, flavours are bang-on authentic and it’s great fun – just don’t expect to hang around for too long: speedy, efficient staff are rigorous when it comes to table turning. Drink Chinese wine, sake, beer and/or tea.

'Thumbs up to the JKS restaurant group (some thirteen restaurants across London, including Hoppers,Gymkhana, Sabor, Bao and Kitchen Table) for supporting diverse cuisines to tease the palates of Londoners,’ cheered an inspector after visiting this snug, dimly lit Persian hangout. Apparently named after the handfuls of brightly coloured toasted rice eaten as a snack at Iranian funfairs, Berenjak channels the spirit of Tehran’s tiny hole-in-the-wall kebab joints –but with more style and class. Exposed brick, scuzzy plasterwork, stained glass windows and mosaic floors set the tone, while the open kitchen is dominated by a mangal barbecue and tandoor oven. Eat at the counter, bag a brown leather booth or head to one of the tables beneath a skylight at the back. The menu is divided into meze, kebabs and khoresht stews, so kick off with soft aubergine (cooked over charcoal) with tomato and Cacklebean eggs – perfect with a rectangular-shaped sangak (wholewheat flatbread baked on pebbles). To follow, perhaps order a ‘wonderfully tender’ kebab of minced lamb shoulder paired with fluffy, buttery saffron rice. Low prices and charming service ensure regular full houses, and it’s worth getting into the mood by flirting with one of the ‘sharbats’ (fruity cordials swizzled with green herbs and spiked with spirits). 

Named after the vintage Blacklock irons used to grill its ‘skinny chops’, the original branch of this meat-loving mini chain channels the spirit of London’s old chophouses but gives the whole idea a trendy spin. It may be housed in a Soho basement once occupied by a brothel and a notorious lap-dancing club, but everything is above board these days: dark panelling, parquet floors and bare wooden tables set the scene for a menu that positively revels in animal protein.

Eagle-eyed readers will spot that the meat comes from butcher Philp Warren’s farm in Cornwall, which guarantees naturally reared, grass-fed quality – whether we’re talking about lamb T-bones, pork ribs or bone-in sirloins. The best deal is the £27 ‘all in’ sharing offer, which brings a stack of different meats piled high on herb-flecked chargrilled flatbreads. That said, some of the best things are the supporting acts: ‘pre-chop bites’ such as potted meats with kimchi; sides including sweet potatoes roasted in ash for 10 hours, and all sorts of extras – from chilli hollandaise and garlic marrow spread to the near-legendary Blacklock gravy served in old-fashioned ‘boats’.

Lunch brings burgers and steak sarnies, while Sunday is reserved for Blacklock’s’ sell-out roasts. If you with a party of friends, opt for the unbeatable all in offer of three meats (beef, pork and lamb) with splendid accompaniments and limitless quantities of Blacklocks' now-legendary gravy. Keep your spirits up by summoning the cocktail trolley or picking from the list of own-label beers and non-spendy wines (some on tap).

‘Bob Bob Ricard confused me at first and I couldn’t really work out who it was for, but with a little distance and on reflection I think I rather like it. It says "have fun, don’t take life so seriously" which might be what we need right now.’ So ran the thoughts of one visitor. Fuelled by ice-cold Nemiroff vodka shots and a mighty contingent of classy bubbles (let your fingers do the walking towards the ‘Press for Champagne’ buzzers on each marble-topped table), this extravagant Soho hot spot offers luxurious decor and a fabulous welcome from the staff. Art Deco styling sets the scene – polished leather booths, swathes of marble, shiny trimmings and bling galore – while the indulgent menu promises Anglo-French comfort food with a Russian slant and lashings of caviar to boot. Steak tartare, Caesar salad with smoked chicken and egg classics every which way are listed as ‘favourites’, but the line-up also cheers and soothes with truffle and potato vareniki dumplings, Stinking Bishop soufflé, chicken and Champagne pie, salmon en croûte and a take on mac and cheese offered, luxuriously, with lobster (of course). Otherwise, share a chateaubriand or beef Wellington. To finish, it has to be tarte tatin, rum and raisin rice pudding or the signature gilt ‘chocolate glory’ with a glass of honeyed Château d’Yquem at £32 for a 50ml sip. Low margins and easy navigation make the steeply priced wine list surprisingly accessible – but who’s counting the pennies.

After a brief sojourn in Covent Garden, Asma Khan’s popular Indian eatery is back where it all started, on the top floor of Carnaby Street’s Kingly Court, next door to the site of the original venue. It's a coveted, light-filled corner spot, low-key but comfortable, with creamy butter-coloured walls and ceilings, wood floors, marble-topped tables and lots of green plants. There’s a view into the kitchen where an all-female brigade weaves flavours in a style that blends Bengali, Hyderabadi and Kolkatan influences, deftly applying their skills to a hotchpotch of street food, home-style and classic dishes. Dinner is a 'royal thali' fixed-price deal, but there's also plenty to savour on the lunchtime carte – the sort of menu from which you want to order everything. Classic channa chat brings lovely tangy sweet-sour flavours and good textural contrast, there are moreish momos (Tibetan steamed dumplings) in both meat and veggie versions, plus utterly delicious fresh paneer served in a rich, creamy coconut-heavy korma sauce, and a gutsy Bengali-style slow-cooked goat curry served on the bone. Spicing is clean, clear and punchy, while incidentals and sides of, say, crunchy green beans with cumin and dried red chillies, are no slackers. Only a dish of rather watery, insipid tamarind dhal disappointed at our test meal. Service is cheerful, brisk and efficient, while drinks run from lassis, cocktails and Indian beer to a brief international wine list.

A serene haven on the streets of Soho, Alex Gauthier’s boutique townhouse (ring the doorbell to gain entrance) features dazzlingly white dining rooms, with heavy starched tablecloths and mirrors providing an apt backdrop for some genuinely progressive cooking. Gauthier has been exploring the possibilities of vegan cuisine for many years, creating what he describes as a vision of ‘French gastronomy without using animals’. His artistry, techniques and inspiration may be wholly Gallic, but the results on the plate speak of cuisine sans frontières. Guests now choose from the full ‘grand diner’ tasting menu or a shorter and cheaper ‘petit diner’ served from 5pm most evenings. The repertoire is emphatically seasonal and endlessly creative: a centrepiece entitled ‘barbecued loin of kohlrabi’, for example, involves charred slices of the bulb-shaped brassica ringed by cucumber, samphire and sea broth, with the addition of sake-infused beurre blanc. Other summer offerings could range from a serving of heritage Norfolk carrot – a ‘soft and crunchy composition’ scented with tarragon and served alongside a little cup of burnt orange cappuccino – to roast fennel splayed out atop a melange of Szechuan pickled blackberry, borlotti beans, fennel and blackcurrant leaf tea. As proceedings drift towards sweetness, Gauthier’s kitchen might create peach with green shiso and lime sorbet or a Norvegienne brûlée with English strawberries and sablé breton. Harmonious wine pairings complement the cuisine, with France as the main contender and a wholehearted commitment to vintages produced without animal products.

Famously founded by the International Society for Krishna Consciousness in 1979 (the Hare Krishna Temple is next door), this vegetarian/vegan evergreen is still making friends – thanks to its happy 'karma-free' vibe, low prices and ‘pure’ meat-free cooking. The place is run like a canteen and it’s invariably packed: join the queue, grab an alcohol-free drink (lassi, rose milkshake, mint lemonade), collect a tray and pay at the counter. Thalis are the headline acts, with regularly changing curries, soups, breads and Indian desserts such as shrikhand or gulab jamun. The kitchen even serves up a few international favourites including lasagne, pizza slices, spinach rolls, veggie burgers and cheesecake. Takeaways too.

Soho holds many delights that may lift a person's mood: since 2021, when it opened on Greek Street, Gunpowder has been one of them. A bold black frontage, softened by greenery, leads into a sleek, intimate room where diners sit at marble-topped tables and Bengali cooking is in the ascendance. Having launched its first outlet in Spitalfields in 2015, Gunpowder knows its craft and delivers multiple small-plate wins, including cracklingly delicious soft-shell crab with Karwari spices or a deep-fried vermicelli ball packed with spicy minced venison. Elsewhere, a gently softened, tangy grilled artichoke heart is the perfect match for the salty and spicy flavours of a red pepper masala. Going big? The Kerala beef sirloin pepper fry, served with a simple onion salad, is a keeper, or try grilled summer pumpkin with Chettinad sauce and toasted coconut. For a livener, add an extra shot of Uttar Pradesh rum alongside the Old Monk bread and butter pudding when it comes to dessert. An Indian theme runs through the dozen cocktails that share the billing with a globetrotting wine list (from £30).

Since launching in 2015, this buzy, cosy restaurant has become something of a Soho institution. Although there are now three branches of Hoppers dotted around the capital there is no sense of dining in a chain eatery. The intimate, characterful room is inspired by the shack-like ‘toddy shops’ found on Sri Lanka’s coconut plantations, featuring a beautifully patterned terracotta-tiled floor, rattan ceiling and Sri Lankan poster art, all designed with enough style to avoid any hint of a themed venue. Although there’s a handy glossary printed at the bottom of the concise (and cryptic) menu, first-time visitors may be a little overwhelmed if unfamiliar with Sri Lankan cuisine. We took the advice of our server and ordered the set menu. For a hungry diner, it’s the perfect way to sample a dish from nearly every part of the repertoire (apart from the larger ‘rice and roasts’ section). Top calls included pheasant chilli fry, a seasonal riff on Hoppers' signature beef rib fry, with pieces of pheasant breast in a crisp coating, fried with red onions, mild banana chillies, hot chillies, curry powder, spices and curry leaves – a perfect representation of the kitchen’s vibrant, spicy style. Equally enjoyable was seafood kothu with its generous amounts of squid and prawns stir-fried with chopped roti, cabbage and carrot in a spicy curry sauce. Black pork kari, a kind of dry curry reminiscent of a Malaysian rendang, was a real show-stopper, intensely flavoured with a darkly roasted spice base and a unique tangy, sour and smoky note provided by goraka (a sun-dried and smoked fruit native to Sri Lanka); this came generously accompanied by dhal, sambols, raita and one of the bowl-shaped rice and coconut pancakes that gives the restaurant its name. With just eight wines on the list, the emphasis is on exotic cocktails (some made with the Sri Lankan coconut-based spirit Ceylon Arrack) and own brand beers. That said, an affordably priced carafe of Rhône rosé complemented the food perfectly.

Angelo Sato came to our attention in the summer of 2021, shortly after the return of normal restaurant service. In the agreeable and energetic space that was formerly Barrafina, the young chef raised yakitori to a new level with 'beak to tail' eating from a menu listing the entire anatomy of the chicken. Now Humble Chicken has changed direction. Diners still perch on counter seats and watch chefs slaving over a hot bichotan charcoal grill, but on offer is a 12-course tasting menu inspired by Sato’s Japanese and European roots – and heavily influenced by his time in high-end London restaurants such as Core by Clare Smyth and Restaurant Story. Summing up the style is a combo of grilled oyster with fermented white grape, kosho beurre blanc and burnt chicken fat, while a bread course is served with luxurious miso-sesame butter layered with intense chicken liver parfait, plus fermented red cabbage alongside to cut the richness. Ingredients are top-notch (as they should be at these prices) and the cooking is undoubtedly skilled, backed up by plenty of kitchen theatre (we came away reasonably confident about how to go about shucking an oyster). Five bite-sized morsels set a cracking opening pace, with highlights being a miso-cured foie gras tartlet with a nugget of Charentais melon buried inside and a topping of almond brittle, and ‘This Little Piggy’ (a delicious bao bun filled with pork and fried quail’s egg). Bigger plates could range from a delicate fillet of sole, overlaid with ‘scales’ of courgette and served with a gently flavoured shiitake and dashi broth, to a more powerfully flavoured riff on sukiyaki involving delicious short rib in an intense broth with Roscoff onion, asparagus spears and crispy egg. To drink, there are cocktails, a good selection of sakes and a brief list of well-chosen wines (from £53).

Feeding hungry people is second nature to Imad Alarnab – and he has the backstory to prove it. A well-respected restaurateur in his native Damascus, he was driven out by the Syrian war and forced to trek across Europe, cooking for his fellow refugees along the way. Once in London, he started making a name for himself with pop-ups, charity events and sell-out supper clubs.

In 2021, he went permanent on the upper tier of Carnaby's Kingly Court, and his bright, noisy dining room chimes perfectly with cooking that has a familiar edge but plenty of ‘memorable’ twists – from golden-brown, sesame-studded falafels fashioned like ring doughnuts to bowls of mahalaya (a rose-water milk pudding with blackberries, coconut, mastic and pistachio). The menu is short and sharp, ranging from vegetarian small plates to meaty high-protein grills.

Aside from those Instagrammable falafels, the meze-style roster runs from labneh with crispy okra and dots of green coriander oil to muhamarra dip (roasted red peppers with pomegranate, chilli and walnut). If meat is required, go for grilled chicken with spiced potato, harissa mayo and pitta bread or slow-roast lamb shoulder with basmati rice. Weekday set lunches are a decent deal, and the short, eclectic wine list includes representatives from Cephalonia, Georgia and Croatia, among others. Above all, Imad's story 'resonates and brings renewed hope in difficult times'.

If you want to gain access to Ben Chapman’s smoking-hot Soho homage to Thai regional cuisine (and much more besides), you have two choices: assemble a group of four friends (or more) and book a table in the basement dining room, where you can have a loud, noisy BBQ party, indoors; alternatively, go on spec, play the waiting game and queue outside for a slot at the stainless steel ground-floor counter (simply add your name and number to the list and grab a drink nearby until you are called). The pay-off is masterful cooking inspired and influenced by those regions where northern Thailand borders Myanmar, Laos and China's Yunnan province, but supplemented by regular supplies of British seasonal produce (notably day-boat fish and rare-breed meat). Intense, blisteringly hot dishes from the charcoal grill line up alongside slow-cooked claypots imbued with deep, dark, pungent flavours. On the one hand, that might mean skewers of aged ‘cull yaw’ mutton spiced with cumin or pounded hake with karashina (giant Japanese mustard leaves); on the other, perhaps monkfish liver curry with harlequin squash or the now-famous, sticky-rich baked glass noodles with specially reared Tamworth pork and brown crabmeat. Also, don’t forget to order some stir-fried Cornish greens and a bowl of brown jasmine rice on the side. ‘Sharing beers’, ferments and cocktails made with kitchen ingredients flow freely, but don't ignore Kiln's eclectic wine list – a short, intelligently chosen line-up that matches the spicy demands of the food.

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

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

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

There are some restaurants that surprise you, as with this branch of the four-strong Masala Zone mini chain. After a refit, it looks and feels just right, from its glowing golden lights, rich colours and comfortable chairs to the touches of glamour thrown in for good measure. But we shouldn’t be too surprised – this restaurant is part of a highly regarded group, including Chutney Mary, Veeraswamy and Amaya, owned by Ranjit Mathrani, Namitha and Camellia Panjabi. On offer is a short menu of Indian favourites from across the subcontinent: a comfortingly rich, silky northern-style butter chicken sitting adjacent to a version from Mangalore redolent of chilli and warming spices; a modern-day chicken tikka next to a classic korma; and a Goan prawn curry appearing alongside that northern Indian staple, lamb rogan josh. Expect vegetable curries, biryanis and thalis, too, and the excellent homemade paneer (prepared daily) is not to be missed. In addition, there’s a wide choice of street snacks served as starters, perhaps gently spiced lamb sliders in caramelised onion pao bread and, from Mumbai’s Chowpatty Beach, a superb sprouted lentil bhel (a crispy salad tangy with tamarind); otherwise, choose five or seven small dishes to make a satisfying main or two-course meal. Keen prices and charming service ensure regular full houses, and it’s worth getting into the mood by flirting with one of the spiced-up cocktails. The wine list works well with the food (everything is available by the glass, carafe or bottle).

The second Noble Rot (the original is in Lamb’s Conduit Street, a third in Mayfair), opened on the site of the legendary Gay Hussar in late 2020. Spread over two floors, the dark, unfussy interior is understated and warmly atmospheric – wood panelling, bare floorboards – with the walls of the small ground-floor dining room lined with colourful covers of Noble Rot wine magazine (the owners of the restaurant). Arguably, it’s the wine list that's the biggest draw – a glorious, thought provoking, ever-evolving one-off. In fact, when we arrived for our early dinner, several tables were still happily ensconced from lunch, lingering over a bottle or three.

As for the food, latest chef Aron Stigmon’s menu has a seasonal slant and rustic European flavour with dishes substantial enough that finishing with a dessert can seem like self-indulgence – especially if you’ve tucked into the irresistible focaccia, sourdough and treacly soda bread beforehand. Flavours are direct, whether guinea fowl chou-farci to start, followed by a hearty stuffed rabbit leg with choucroute and mustard, or whole-baked John Dory with morteau sausage and clams. Desserts such as apple and Chinon galette will tempt, even if you didn’t think you needed one.

Relaxed, cheerful service is knowledgeable when it comes to wine – especially welcome given the scope of the list, presented on an iPad. From an idiosyncratic collection of gems by the glass, we were delighted with our recommendation for Apostolos Thymiopoulos’s 2009 ‘Blanc de Rosé’ from Macedonia.

We are pleased to report that Dom Fernando’s one-of-a-kind Sri Lankan restaurant continues to be a crowd puller. It helps that a major revamp has given this snug Soho spot a sleeker, more elegant look, while the kitchen's modus operandi has become even more ambitious. 

The cooking revels in its close ties to other southern Asian cuisines, but the format is now a well-balanced six-course tasting menu – a modern riff on Sri Lankan flavours created with British seasonal produce. A vivid array of taste combinations ranges from hot, tangy and sour (the lacto-fermented Kentish strawberry rasam broth with wild garlic oil that opened our lunch, for example) to the fragrant, subtly sweet undertones of kiri-hodi – a light coconut-milk curry of Cornish pollack and langoustine, teamed with a Cox's apple sambol and delicate coconut milk rice.

Elsewhere, watalappam is usually served as a dessert but here forms the savoury base for a combo of Brixham crab, jambola (pomelo), sea buckthorn and kalu-sago (jaggery). And there’s the occasional palate-wallop of chilli – note the fiery dab of Yorkshire rhubarb lunu-miris (a mix of salt and chilli) that’s served alongside tender spring lamb (the high point of our visit). This came with black-garlic curry, turmeric and saffron dhal, sweet and sticky aubergine pickled with vinegar and jaggery, and a light, hand-stretched buttermilk roti to mop up all the juices.

A mini 'magnum' of white chocolate and alphonso mango with mee-kiri caramel (from Laverstoke Park Farm) provides the perfect finish. Cocktails come boldly spiked with unexpected ingredients (from mango leaves and rambutan to foraged kalamansi) or you can choose from the brief but well-chosen wine list.

The Latin moniker harks back to a time when this veteran Dean Street site was home to a grandiose, old-school Italian restaurant of the same name. A great deal has changed since the old days, although some original features such as the dining room’s distinctive stained glass front windows remain intact. With the Hart brothers and long-serving chef Jeremy Lee running the show, the food is a sprightly mix of reworked British classics, leavened with French bistro standbys and the occasional Mediterranean riff, while ‘the attention to quality and seasonality is second to none.’  

The menu is a joy to behold – a mock-up broadsheet replete with jokey line drawings and special boxes advertising everything from the much-lauded smoked eel sandwich with pickled red cabbage to the mighty ‘pie of the day’ and specials such as spiced beef with artichokes and Parmesan. Opening salvos given an idea of the kitchen’s repertoire, which spans everything from artichoke vinaigrette to crumbed lamb’s sweetbreads with peas, almonds and mint. Mains of skate with black butter and capers or marinated lamb rump accompanied by sweet cabbage hash and green sauce uphold the British tradition or you could speed off to Italy for a serving of cannelloni, fennel, winter greens and three cheeses. For dessert, sticky toffee pudding has its moment (served with custard and cream); otherwise, consider gooseberry sorbet, lemon posset or ‘les QV profiteroles au chocolat’. 

The wine list takes diners on a whistlestop world tour, although its heart is in the classic French regions, with plentiful by-the-glass options for those on a strict budget. Overall, regulars confirm that the place is still a Soho diamond: ‘No matter when you visit, you can always be assured of an extremely warm welcome and superb service.’

For many years, Rasa Sayang has been a popular no-frills spot for halal Straits cooking in Soho Chinatown. Service is brisk and the menu reflects the diversity of the region's cuisine: start with roti canai or chewy tempeh (fermented soya beans) laced with sambal, before tackling hawker mainstays such as tasty char kway teow (stir-fried flat rice noodles). Chilli crab (with mantou buns) and rich Malaysian-style red curry with chicken (served on the bone) are highly recommended, too. End with bubur cha cha – a classic Peranakan ('mixed heritage') dessert involving sago, sweet potatoes, yam and pandan in coconut milk. Drink teh tarik ('pulled tea') or Tiger beer.

Of all the multifarious eating and drinking opportunities in the heart of Soho, this ‘warmly welcoming’ little restaurant is one of the more compelling. Rita’s goes about its business with gusto, its popularity not surprising given the casual vibe, the warmth of the service and straight-to-the point modern American-style cooking. It’s not going to win any prizes for inventiveness – dishes tend to be simple assemblies built around seasonal British produce – but barbecued beef tartare with garlic, raw vegetables and lots of herbs, and a special of corn-crusted turbot served on a heap of courgettes and set in a puddle of herb butter – were good calls on a warm spring evening. Salt-fish taquitos have been praised, fried chicken parmigiana puts in an appearance, and flavours are ramped up with prime cuts and sharing steaks (order with ‘wrong way’ French fries). Desserts feature the likes of sunflower ice cream with caramel sundae, and the express lunch of, say, fried chicken roll, Caesar salad or eggplant panino is good value. Cocktails star alongside a European wine list stuffed with on-trend low intervention producers.

* SEH is closing for good on 31 July 2024. Chef Alex Parker will be heading up the kitchen at Mary's (Jason Atherton's reboot of Pollen Street Social). *

It's easy to walk past the discreetly signed entrance of this most casual of Jason Atherton’s ‘Social’ restaurants. The restrained interior has changed little over the last decade, bare on napery and big on artfully distressed walls offset by a low mirrored ceiling, wood and coppery tones. But Paul Hood's departure and changes in the kitchen have brought a new-found energy and drive to the place. Executive chef Alex Parker’s cooking reflects experience at Claude Bosi at Bibendum as well as time spent at City Social, and there's no doubt he is aiming high. The kitchen’s something-for-everyone approach has been retained, with the set lunch and early-dinner menu remaining a bargain – you can hardly jibe at the prices when you can have three courses (with a glass of wine and service) for under £50. The carte is a work in progress, with high points ranging from well-sourced Josper-grilled meats (perhaps dry-aged Scottish Black Angus sirloin) or a dazzlingly delicious mushroom and chicken raviolo with seaweed jam and Parmesan velouté to roast guinea fowl breast with prawn-stuffed wings, baby artichoke and a deeply flavoursome barigoule sauce – a standout dish that gives a taste of the new regime’s flair. Or consider the theatre of a ‘chef’s experience menu’ offered at the eight-seat kitchen pass, where Parker has already stamped his personality, imagination and technical innovation on the multi-course taster. There are hits aplenty here: a foie gras and pistachio sandwich; a beef tartare waffle topped with caviar; Cornish red mullet with anchovy tapenade and bouillabaisse; lamb saddle with baba ganoush, black garlic and gremolata. And who can resist a mini Eccles cake with Stilton? Clever stuff. There’s serious dedication on the drinks front, too, with well-tailored cocktails and a list of confidently chosen wines including plenty by the glass.

Bang in the heart of the Soho action, amid the jostle of Dean Street, Victor Garvey's Sola represents a highly personal take on contemporary North American food, but with a difference. While all the innovation and conceptual dash of modern technique is on show, there is a firm focus on delivering high-impact dishes in an accessible framework – not least for value. It is all too easy to dazzle when price is no object, but look at the set lunch menu here, and then ask yourself: how does he do it? From the parade of astonishing canapés – including crisped-up belly of suckling pig topped with a huge cloud of jasmine foam, little rolls of pickled kohlrabi and apple cream – to the take-home pastiches of American candy bars, the intensity level never wavers. Ingredients are top-drawer throughout, as is the case with two large pieces of bluefin akami cut into neat, rectangular lozenges alongside a cylindrical sesame-dotted tuile made from soybean flour, stuffed to bursting with gorgeously fatty minced otoro. Striking accompaniments include a quenelle of super-light avocado mousse, cubes of ponzu jelly, burnt and raw spring onions, pickled shimeji mushrooms, edamame and a ponzu sauce with tapioca pearls. How can a main course top that? And yet... here comes pink-roasted squab breast with a gratin of artichoke and Emmental, crisp-fried artichoke, crisped pigeon skin and a parfait of foie gras encased in squid-ink gel, the whole dish held together by a gloriously savoury black-olive praline. Dessert might be as refreshingly light as Pink Lady apple with Calvados sorbet and sumac pastry, or as richly luscious as poached pear in caramel sauce with an almond financier and truffle ice cream. Only the wine offering, which is predominantly Californian, seems to limit the operation needlessly, offsetting the powerful appeal that the menu pricing exerts – a result of the transatlantic exchange rate. 

It may live a little in the shadow of Plaza Khao Gaeng as the super-spicy, ‘authentic’ Thai place from Luke Farrell, but the chef’s latest opening is earning its stripes. The Soho site has been part of JKS Restaurants for some years - formerly as Xu, then home to Farrell’s Viet Populaire bánh mì pop-up. In this latest iteration, the Speedboat Bar feels like a canteen – full of bright colours, metal tabletops, laminated menus, plastic napkin dispensers, basic crockery and Thai football shirts adorning the walls. Upstairs is dominated by an actual bar and a pool table, plus more tables for dining. We thought the cooking good value. Purple aubergine with chilli, Thai basil and crisp, bronzed sweetcorn fritters were easy to like (especially if you're happy with chilli heat) as was a plate of minced beef with holy basil stir-fry, rice and a perfectly frilly fried egg – two keenly priced dishes from the lunch menu. Elsewhere, a salad of cashews, pork crackling and dried prawns was all about the classic Thai balance of salty-sweet-sour, while the tom yam dish was particularly good: generous, with large, plump, perfectly cooked prawns, thick slices of pork belly (with crisped-up crackling) and squid in a tangle of tender tentacles. The highlight of our meal – surprisingly – was a pineapple pie, visually reminiscent of a McDonald’s apple pie, but far, far superior with flaky pastry and juicy, caramelised chunks of sweet fruit; the accompanying lavender-coloured taro ice cream was delicious, too. Service is sharp enough – or at least it’s easy to catch someone’s eye when you need something – and the drinks menu is definitely geared towards the bar side of the operation: Thai-themed cocktails and a selection of chasers, Singha beer, and a brief list of spice-friendly wines.

For generations of thespians, journos and assorted bohemians, ‘The French’ has been a talisman of old Soho – a pub with its own code (no mobile phones, no music, beer in half-pint glasses). Yet this brilliant boozing relic also sports a cosily traditional upstairs dining room with proper culinary aspirations. The kitchen has played host to a clutch of big-name chefs in the past, but current incumbent Neil Borthwick seems set for a long run – thanks to his stout-hearted, no-nonsense approach to rustic provincial French cooking. He also allows British ingredients to do a merry jig with their Gallic counterparts, resulting in dishes that defiantly avoid clever-clever frills and furbelows. Instead, visitors can expect a line-up of classics bursting with gutsy up-front flavours and bags of largesse: Archill oysters with mignonette sauce; chargrilled ox tongue with rémoulade sauce; calf’s brains doused with brown butter, capers and parsley; ink-braised cuttlefish with coco beans. Order steak and you will get a mighty rump or ribeye plus French fries, watercress, shallot salad and béarnaise sauce. For afters, indulge in the French-accented cheeseboard, a plate of madeleines or something sweet such as Madagascan chocolate mousse with crème fraîche. Drink French cidre or pick from the pub’s all-Gallic wine list (with plenty by the glass).

Although it's been refurbished to extend the eating counter for groups of four, provide velvet-lined booths for couples who want privacy and add larger tables for up to 10, the real energy at this buzzing Israeli-inspired joint in Chinatown nevertheless centres on the stools at the counter facing the open kitchen. The easiest way to decide what to eat is simply to watch the procession of dishes being assembled in lickety-split time for neighbouring diners and choose whatever looks tastiest. Otherwise, graze on a couple of snacks – nuggets of zaatar chicken schnitzel or bitesize lamb skewers with carob molasses, say – while perusing the menu. The kubaneh is an essential accompaniment whatever you order, a puffy dome of golden-brown bread that could be the perfect embodiment of 'tear and share'. Dunked into tomato and tahini sauces, it is a course in itself but it’s also an essential conduit for mopping up the last morsels from any plate: the confit garlic yoghurt beneath a fleshy pair of spiced lamb cutlets, say, or the sunset-orange chimichurri pooling around slices of rare ribeye. Vegetables are a good shout: aubergine served as baba ganoush or as a carpaccio with white miso; a risotto made with freekeh and stirred with kale and dukkah. However, most of the fish and meat dishes come with some intriguing interpretation of greenery: an Israeli spin on kimchi with bream, or a jumble of kohlrabi, molasses and feta beneath dusky-pink chunks of tender glazed octopus both get a big thumbs-up. There’s wine to drink – the Lebanese house Cinsault rosé from the Massaya Winery is lovely – but cocktails are arguably even better: try the Bumblebee, a food-friendly mix of gin, honey, ginger and lemon. The Palomar may no longer feel like the hippest venue in town, partly because so many places have copied the formula – not least its Covent Garden sibling, the Barbary. But when the flames are shooting up behind the counter and your new-best-friend chef is offering a shot, there are few more thrilling perches around Soho.