Best restaurants to visit when travelling to the British Grand Prix
Published 28 June 2024

In a restaurant-rich slice of central London, there’s something reassuringly old fashioned about this self-confident restaurant (part of Fortnum & Mason but with its own entrance on Jermyn Street) – and that’s a large part of its charm. It’s smart, not overly dressy, with striking red banquettes and a big marble-topped bar, and comes across as somewhere that supports special occasions as much as quick business lunches. Open all day, every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the assembled crowd is tempted by classics such as steak tartare, Dove sole meunière and pitch-perfect calf’s liver with onions and bacon. This is the place if your fancy turns to savouries such as Scotch woodcock or Gentleman’s relish on toast, or bon ton luxuries including oscietra caviar. The kitchen also injects a little modernity with the likes of venison and mushroom dumplings with bone broth, ginger and chilli, or artichoke and golden beetroot salad with cashew-nut ricotta and tiger’s milk – ‘something for everyone’ is a fair description of the menu. Finish with ice cream coupes, floats, knickerbocker glory or a well-made chai-spiced custard tart with yoghurt and honey sorbet. Drink imaginative house cocktails or choose from an interesting wine list with an excellent by-the-glass selection. Mark-ups are high but the informed sommelier gives good advice.

Fitzrovia is not necessarily short of smart, efficient bistros with a switched-on city ambience, but here is one that stands head and shoulders above the competition. The layout will look familiar – close-packed tables, glass dividers, an open kitchen at the back – but there is a distinctiveness to both the atmosphere and the essentially French cooking. Staff are knowledgeable and voluble in equal measure, and there is no cold feeling of being processed. The kitchen, under Stuart Andrew, is conscious of making an impression – even something as humble as soupe au pistou comes out swinging, full of tiny carrot and courgette brunoise, bites of green bean, poached fresh coco beans and super-fine noodles, with a generous dot of intense basil pistou. To follow, a fillet of sea bass on spinach with mussels in a saffron-scented sauce made with the mussel liquor is a star performance, while the game season furnishes a roast partridge with boudin blanc, quince and parsley roots. The side-order of truffade (a baconed-up dauphinoise with a breadcrumb topping) is a must. Finish with something as simple as a Neapolitan triumvirate of homemade ice creams or tarte au citron with bergamot Chantilly. An impressive wine list has been meticulously selected with an eye to the quality-price ratio; glasses start at £8, and there are some real treasures on the splash-out 'cellar list'.

Since 2012, Andrew Wong’s Pimlico restaurant has re-defined high-end Chinese dining not only in the UK but, arguably, for anywhere outside Asia. The no-choice, 30-dish tasting menu takes inspiration from far and wide – Hong Kong for the dim sum, Shaanxi province for the bao, Anhui for the fermented wild sea bass – but the result is unmistakably Wong’s own vision, not least in its striking presentation. A martini glass suspended over ice, for instance, contains finely chopped green beans spiked with wasabi soy encased by a quivering shell of osmanthus jelly, while ribbons of tofu wave in a limpid soup like the fronds of a sea anemone.

At its best, Wong’s cooking melds astonishing creativity with the most alluring of flavours and sublime contrasts of textures, everything held in a delicate balance by the surest of touches. Consider a candied walnut stuck onto a trio of honey-roast roast pork slices, each daubed with gravy to glue onto shavings of frozen foie gras, grated as finely as sherbet; or wagyu tartare, presented in a caviar tin and adorned with shards of crisp potato, its chilli heat balanced by the citrus jolt of yuzu when dolloped onto a barely-there ‘pancake’ of pear.

Wong’s contemporary interpretation of Chinese cooking is so compelling that when a faultless nugget of sweet-and-sour chicken arrives (an affectionate nod to his parents’ Cantonese restaurant, Kym’s), it feels like an uninvited old friend gatecrashing the party. At £200 a head for food, however, it is not unreasonable to expect this level of perfection throughout, and our most recent meal fell short of that. There were basic errors (prawns not properly shelled) and some dishes tasted of very little at all – even if they looked lovely (cheung fun refashioned as an inside-out wafer of pork or an al dente roll of Peking duck, for example).

Overall, we longed for more nuance to the flavours rather than an insistent, unremitting savouriness. These criticisms might have been easier to stomach had there been more charm to the service. Empty plates were whisked away with lickety-split haste, a neighbouring table was brought Pouilly-Fumé not Fuissé, and being moved to the empty bar to eat dessert in solitude seemed ungracious while our seat upstairs was filled with the next round of punters.

Perhaps we visited on a rare off-night; certainly, the advance planning required to secure a table here (or a seat at the counter, with its direct view into the kitchen) indicates there is no shortage of takers.

In a foodie courtyard behind Dalston Junction, the inviting smell of burning embers and charring now mingles with the aromas of hops and freshly baked loaves. Those embers are from Acme Fire Cult – a low-budget, eco-conscious eatery devoted to fire-fuelled cooking, with plenty of noise and loud music adding to the vibe and more than half the tables outside, under cover and close to the smoky action. But this isn’t just another dude-food BBQ joint: here, vegetables are elevated to a starring role, with rare-breed meats and day-boat fish providing the support acts. There’s also much use of micro-seasonal ferments and by-products from the 40FT Brewery next door – Acme even makes its own version of Marmite from leftover yeast.

The menu is a globe-straddling line-up of unorthodox but exciting modern dishes: coal-roasted leeks with pistachio and romesco are a favourite with readers (‘salty, sweet, delicious and utterly incredible’), likewise tomatoes with green goddess and sorrel. As meat and fish are introduced, you might find chunks of lamb makhani meatballs (a homely dish with ‘subtly balanced spices’) a Tamworth pork chop with mojo rojo or whole gilthead bream slathered with guanjillo chill butter. For afters, there’s usually a choice of two seasonal offerings, perhaps saffron and honey-poached pear with sesame and vanilla yoghurt.

Saturday means brunch, while on Sundays everyone piles in for the sharing platters of grilled and smoked meats piled high on dripping toast (‘it’s the only place where I’d happily be outdoor for my roast,’ commented one fan). To drink, mezcal margaritas fly out of the bar, seven taps dispense brews from 40FT and the concise wine list is a knowledgeable, well-researched slate.

* Head chef Ayo Adeyemi has left and been replaced by Alain Ducasse alumnus Mutaro Balde. Watch for a new review coming soon.*

Judging by our most recent lunchtime visit, this Fitzrovia hot spot is a restaurant on the up and up. We found the warm terracotta-toned dining room almost full to capacity, with diners occupying the well-spaced tables and thronging the comfortable counter. The £55 lunch menu is appealing, but most opt for the full tasting deal (competitively priced at £120 at the time of writing), with the option of tatale (Ghanaian plantain pancakes) with goat cashew cream and Exmoor caviar available for a supplementary £35. With chef Ayo Adeyemi at the helm, the cooking is overtly complex although the concept as a whole is straightforward: West African flavours, British ingredients. Kick off with a pair of terrific openers: waina (a fermented rice pancake) with chicken liver and Senegalese yassa, followed by a deep-fried oyster with a Gambian red pepper relish. Every dish has something exciting it wants to share with us. Seared mackerel, blackened on top, but fashionably near-raw underneath, comes with Afro-Brazilian vatapa sauce and dense cubes of moi moi (steamed bean pudding), while monkfish with grilled maitake mushrooms is paired with a fresh, fruity 'sosu kaani' chilli sauce. Meat cookery is a strength, the benefits of the charcoal grill in the open kitchen highlighted in a skewer of ox tongue suya. That said, while the dishes were individually praiseworthy, the tasting menu overall lacked a little range – smoky flavours and smooth emulsions dominated. An icy clementine and goat's milk palate cleanser arrived just at the right time during our meal. The wine selection, in service to the food, wanders from Kent to Austria and on to South Africa and beyond, with a good range by the glass. A final word about the front-of-house team, who are friendly, knowledgeable and enthusiastic.

‘Best to come in a group and order as many of the sharing dishes as possible,' is sound advice for those planning to eat at this hugely popular Palestinian restaurant which opened in 2022 after a crowdfunding campaign; bagging a reservation for dinner can take weeks. Akub (meaning cardoon or edible thistle) spreads over four floors, with white-painted brick walls, foliage dangling from metal keys, tiled flooring, ash-wood tables, beams, bowls piled with fresh lemons and an olive tree creating a relaxed and convivial vibe. Fadi Kattan hails from Bethlehem and offers his own take on contemporary Palestinian cuisine via a menu that is divided into ‘ard’ (land, as in vegetarian), ‘bahar’ (sea) and ‘lameh’ (meat), while showcasing the flavours of Galilee, the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. Start, perhaps, with a creamy risotto made with freekeh grains, its nutty flavour combined with charred green wheat infused with saffron, and topped off with dried laban jameed (goat's milk yoghurt) and pine nuts. A kofta made with a fleshy Rye Bay skate could follow, teamed with loumi (black lemon), grape leaves, coriander and tahini, while mansaf (a classic Bedouin lamb dish) is served in a trio of deep-fried filo parcels stuffed with succulent pulled shoulder, rice and garlic set atop a bright yellow laban jameed sauce. Other good calls range from the warm, soft zaatar bread topped with sumac, thyme and toasted sesame seeds (plus a drizzle of olive oil) to a rich, dark Dead Sea chocolate cake (its sweetness cleverly offset with sea salt) served with caramel and tahini ice cream. A handy drinks list features cocktails influenced by Levantine ingredients (dates, arak and apricots), beers from the region, and 25 wines (from £28) including a couple from the Taybeh Winery in Palestine.

Part of the MW Eat group (Veeraswamy, Chutney Mary and the Masala Zone mini chain), this classy Belgravia grill restaurant tucked down a passage beside the Pantechnicon has been plying its trade since 2004. Swathes of polished dark wood and seductive lighting create a contemporary, luxurious feel to the generously spaced dining room, which is bookended by a smart bar area and an open-to-view kitchen with tandoor ovens and tawa grills in full view. Several notches above your average curry house, it continues to tease and satisfy, experimenting with herbs, spices and ketchups via a line-up of bijou grazing dishes. Smoky and spicy jumbo-sized ocean prawns, fired in the tandoor are succulent, fleshy and spiked with ginger and tomato, while seared scallops are pearly pucks of similar stature in puddles of fresh coriander and coconut sauce. Oysters, crumbed and grilled, sit plumply in coconut milk (from whole nuts cracked open in the kitchen) with ginger, turmeric and chilli. Meat receives similarly impressive treatment: a marinade of spices and cheese helps to point up a beautifully tender black-pepper chicken tikka (with chilli paneer, date and sesame), while subtle spicing gives heft to a pair of juicy tandoori lamb chops, accompanied by puffed-up naan bread, glistening with ghee and showered in truffle. For a short season, there could also be chicken biryani with wild garlic, cooked in its sealed pot and opened at table to wafts of herby, garlicky steam. A typical meal might kick off with crispy cabbage and noodle salad with nuts, pomegranate and grapes bound by a splash of balsamic vinegar, while desserts are given an Indian twist – perhaps a miniature lime tart sharing the plate with a blueberry compôte infused with anise and a wobbly limoncello jelly. Service, led by a gracious maître d’, is quick and efficient. Contemporary cocktails mingle with a carefully assembled, spice-friendly wine list including almost two dozen selections by the glass (from £11).

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.

It may feel a little counter-intuitive to find a seafood-leaning restaurant up in the clouds, but the ascent to the seventh floor of the South Place Hotel is worth it. It's a bracing location complete with a heated terrace and chef's table, and one worth enjoying as the backdrop for a highly refined approach to contemporary cuisine. Following Gary Foulkes move to Cornus, the kitchen is now run by Craig Johnston (formerly of Marcus Belgravia) – although Foulkes is still acting as ‘consultant executive chef’ behind the scenes.

A set lunch menu is offered as an introduction to the style (think cured chalk stream trout with horseradish yoghurt and dill or smoked halibut with Maldon oyster, potato and cod’s roe), although Angler's offer also extends to an eight-course taster with stunning canapés and a manageable carte that favours spare precision over indulgence and bulk. Our first course of roast Orkney scallop was divided laterally in two, bedded on squash purée and offset with sweet caramelised onion and a dusting of powdered cep – although we thought the dish needed a little more textural bite. Following on, there was excellent balance in a centerpiece serving of perfectly steamed wild turbot in dashi stock with shards of crispy enoki mushroom and squid-ink noodles.

If meat is what's required, look to a tenderly expressive dish of squab pigeon breast with silky beetroot purée and chanterelle persillade in green peppercorn sauce. There is also great ingenuity when it comes to the dessert stage – from citrus tart matched with basil semifreddo, bergamot curd and olive-oil jelly to Provençal figs with fig-leaf ice cream and honey parfait. A wine list to suit the setting comes at unsurprisingly lofty prices, but there are good glass selections from £10.

A little south of Oxford Street, Chantelle Nicholson's Apricity might one day come to define London dining in the new 'twenties'. Amid the plutocrats' boutiques of Duke Street, it styles out its defiant scruffiness, with scoured, undecorated walls, small café tables and light fixtures that look artfully dusty. Low-waste, vegetable-based cooking is the wave of an ecologically anxious future, and if it comes out as innovative and interesting (as it does here), nobody need feel deprived. Artisan farms supply much of the produce, as in a first-course of miso-roasted cabbage with pickled kale in a smoked emulsion. Not everything is vegetarian, however: a generous starter of pollock tartare with pickled kohlrabi, topped with broken linseed cracker, was full of freshness and bracing bite. To follow, there might be something earthy and carb-heavy such as discs of baked celeriac on a carpet of Black Badger peas, given a nice kick with a seasoning of cultured gochujang, or you might go full carnivore with a cutlet and rib serving of excellent lamb, alongside hunks of beetroot and a gentling splotch of labneh (though nothing of the promised mint salsa). Desserts expect you to have left your sweet tooth at home. Rhubarb with raspberry granita and cashew cream goes full-on with vegetal flavours, while the little plum and rapeseed tart, garnished with underripe plum, has little of the almond richness of traditional frangipane. Wines by the glass could do with broadening their horizons – the textures and fruit flavours fall within a fairly narrow band for each colour – but the selections themselves are good. We won't gag at Ferraton's St-Joseph in a month of dreary Sundays. Staff run the place with impressive coolness, not writing anything down. Don't turn your phone off, whatever you do: the menu is accessed via a QR code on a stone, or by navigating to the website.

‘We have been going for over 13 years and it never fails to delight’ is just one testament to the consistently high standards achieved by chef-patron Laurie Gear and his wife Jacqueline over more than two decades at the Artichoke. The plaudits continue, but this attractive, classy little operation on Old Amersham’s main street refuses to stand still. A recent refurbishment has introduced an artichoke colour scheme (as in ‘globe’, not plebeian ‘Jerusalem’) and an etched-resin screen that can be drawn open to reveal the kitchen. This allows diners near the inglenook fireplace – there’s also a private dining room on the first floor – a prime opportunity to watch the chefs patiently creating the components for the various tasting and set menus. Lunch might begin with an appetising cupful of foamy parsnip velouté enhanced by a dainty dollop of truffle cream, both main flavours clear and true. Bread (a miniature loaf of warm wholemeal laced with Chiltern Black Ale) and starters are of equal calibre: lightly smoked trout matched with pungent horseradish cream, rye bread crisps and salty bursts of trout roe, for instance, or a roundel of tender local pork belly, its fat luscious, its accompaniments (cubes of fresh apple, sliced fennel, marigold leaves) adding complementary textural and flavour dimensions. Seasonality suffuses the oft-changing repertoire, so a springtime main course of braised lamb shoulder shares the plate with white asparagus, springy fresh morels, herb couscous (large grains, resembling petits pois) and a wild garlic pesto – the dish made still more mouth-watering with outstanding gravy and a garnish of precisely cooked sweetbreads. Tip-top ingredients are treated with care and skill – witness skrei cod (the salty fillet brilliant white and succulent) with earthy Jersey Royals and plump mussels providing admirable support. The best dessert at inspection was a perfectly wrought passion-fruit soufflé, the zesty fruit also enlivening an accompanying scoop of ice cream. ‘Extremely well-drilled’ staff ensure a meal here is thoughtfully paced, while a knowledgeable sommelier administers the highly impressive wine list. France, Italy and the fruits of the Rothschild vineyards are the strengths, but the collection also ranges from Uruguay to Croatia and Corsica. Even the entry-point glasses (including an Armenian red and an Austrian Riesling) hold ample interest and flavour. The main drawback? Everything at the Artichoke is ‘rather pricey’, but Amersham regulars mind not a jot.

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

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

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

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.

‘Serving up exceptional curries since 1985,’ Forest Hill’s beloved Babur just keeps on rolling – and it's still the go-to option for locals wanting prettily plated Indian food that’s a cut above your average high-street curry house. It’s also family-run, ‘rooted in the local community‘ and run by kindly staff who give everyone a ‘genuinely warm welcome’. Over the years, it has become increasingly stylish and distinctive, with a hand-painted kalamkari horoscope in the foyer, low-hanging lights, exposed brickwork and wooden partitions holding elaborate floral displays.

Meanwhile, the kitchen scours the Subcontinent for regional ideas while offering dedicated menus for those with special dietary needs. The full repertoire bypasses kormas and dhansaks in favour of more intricate, modern ideas such as goat tikka with a cumin puff and aubergine mash, steamed shoulder of lamb (marinated for 100 hours) with beetroot rice, or spiced stone bass with chana masala yoghurt and papaya chutney. Vegetable dishes and sides are also full of promise – think garlicky spinach with sweetcorn and mushrooms or thinly sliced fried potatoes dusted with mango powder.

To finish, try the milk sponge cake with saffron gel or the chocolate fondant spiced with cumin. On Sundays, Babur’s ‘help yourself’ family buffet is something of a local institution in its own right. The wine list has been knowledgeably assembled with food in mind, but it would be remiss to ignore the zippy Asian-themed cocktails.

A much-hyped brunch spot in an unremarkable location not far from Rectory Road station, Bake Street’s expanded Americana-infused menu runs at weekends only; during the week, there’s a shorter selection of pastries, cookies and toasties to go with excellent coffee. The tiny kitchen does well to keep on top of such an original scratch line-up, doling out everything from messy birria tacos with twice-cooked lamb and consommé to must-order mandarin ice cream sandwiches. Unlicensed; outside seating only (come prepared). 

When sleek, handmade pasta specialist Bancone opened its first branch in Covent Garden back in 2018, it scored an instant social media hit with its ‘silk handkerchiefs’ – soft, glistening rectangles of fazzoletti dressed with walnut butter, sprinkled with nuggets of chopped walnut and topped with a golden confit egg yolk. While still the stars of the show, they share the billing with other tempters such as pappardelle with Herdwick hogget, soy, Thai basil and chilli or cappellacci with Cornish crab, corn, chives and sea herbs. Start with cauliflower salad, smoked almonds and pecorino sardo; finish with fior di latte or crème caramello with coffee and buckwheat. Prosecco and Italian regional wines go down a treat. 

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.

Ahoy there landlubbers! You don’t need to have your sea legs to enjoy the unique experience of dining at Barge East, a floating (but not moving) restaurant on the river Lee at Hackney Wick. The carefully preserved Dutch barge has been moored there for five years, and has grown during that time to include a street kitchen and canalside garden and to adapt to the needs of visitors to the area which now include West Ham football fans (check for home fixtures before you book) and besequinned devotees en route to the ABBA Voyage Arena. Inside the barge, it’s more hygge than hectic, with upcycled wooden tables, cushions and little vases of flowers. The vibe is romantic, quirky, and charming. While the cooking is fairly up-to-the-minute – zero-waste techniques feed into the menu – it’s all very approachable. You don’t have to be Gen Z to understand what you’re eating. We were impressed by a nicely made ham hock and pistachio terrine with ajo blanco, and by classical venison loin with pomegranate, parsnip and bread sauce. Loquat purée and mushroom XO don’t do an awful lot for English asparagus, but the produce can’t be faulted. Other dishes might include whey-brined chicken with braised spelt and wild garlic pesto or spiced cauliflower with cauliflower-leaf bhaji and rice cakes. Finish with sticky toffee pudding, sweet cicely panna cotta or an inspired cheese course of ‘lost bread’ with Wigmore, walnuts, celery. A list of European wines (from £34) includes around half a dozen by the glass. The bill takes the form of a message in a bottle. The message being, you don’t have to break the bank to enjoy a meal out in London.

Handily located on a corner site in Covent Garden’s theatreland, with all the hallmarks of the Barrafina group – from the prime time queues to the counter seating at a marble-topped bar and the cooked-to-order menu of Spanish tapas classics. Top-notch ingredients are at the heart of things and the cooking is deceptively simple, whether you’re after one of the made-to-order tortillas (perhaps prawns with piquillo peppers) or something from the charcoal oven (milk-fed lamb’s kidneys or dry-aged sirloin with oloroso sauce). Para picar nibbles such as pan con tomate or Padrón peppers get the juices flowing and it’s also worth taking a serious look at the little chalked-up board of daily specials for further inducements. Here you might find inviting star turns such as cuttlefish croquetas, lemon sole with citrus butter, whole turbot with ajada sauce or smoked calf’s tongue. For afters, check out the crema catalana or the milhojas (stacked layers of puff pastry with a creamy mix of condensed milk, sugar and vanilla). To match the food, there’s a spot-on list of Spanish regional wines (many available by the glass or carafe) as well as sherries in all styles.

While the popularity of other London tapas bars has waxed and waned, Barrafina has remained a standard-bearer. This, the fifth iteration of the group, launched in summer 2022 and is set within a Victorian railway arch at Borough Yards, a new development bordering Borough Market. It’s in good company, with other Harts Group eateries nearby, including the El Pastor taqueria on Stoney Street, their Parrillan grill restaurant next door, and an entrance to Bar Daskal (a Spanish wine, sherry and cocktail bar) at the back. This place, however, is all about counter-top dining. From the long marble bar with its fixed stools, you can watch the chefs prep while you scan the placemat menu of para picar (nibbles), seafood, tortilla, meat, vegetables and desserts. You might just fancy a chilled manzanilla or a bright Albariño and a couple of croquetas, some Padrón peppers and their famed tortilla, but it would be a shame not to branch out and try something more innovative from the chalked-up specials board – perhaps calçots with romesco, or torreznos (fried pork snacks) given heft with a scattering of fried jalapeño and shallots, or perhaps a caldereta (stew). At inspection, a daily special of plaice in a light-as-air batter was superb. Finish with the delectable fried Catalan bunyols (doughnuts). As with most Barrafinas (except Dean Street), counter seats are bookable, with a few places held back for walk-ins; there are high-top tables, too, for larger groups. The drinks list (sherry, cava and wine) leans heavily on Spanish grapes; otherwise, Estrella beer is on tap.

It seems fitting that the Hart Brothers should choose the fashionable enclave of Coal Drops Yard for the fourth – and biggest – branch of Barrafina, their gently expanding group of tapas bars. Located on the upper tier of the development (above Casa Pastor), it chimes perfectly with the laid-back, metropolitan vibe of its neighbours and ticks all the now-familiar Barrafina boxes: counter seating; plain-speaking tiled interiors; clued-up young staff and a menu of skilfully rendered tapas classics prepared and cooked in an open-to-view kitchen. Para picar nibbles of boquerones, chipirones (baby squid) and mojama (cured tuna) pique the taste buds ahead of various made-to-order tortillas, black rice, chicken thighs with romesco or stuffed courgette flowers. Desserts are limited to ice creams, sorbets and crema catalana. Like its siblings, this branch also parades a chalked-up daily board of specials (notably seafood) that lift the cooking up a notch or two: perhaps oxtail croquetas, confit cod with leeks, hake with roasted peppers or the thin, elongated cut of Ibérico pork known as lagarto. A tight list of Spanish regional wines, cavas and sherries in various styles completes the picture.

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.

Post-lockdown, Barrafina’s hugely popular Drury Lane branch briefly morphed into seafood-themed Barrafina Mariscos, but now it’s back to normality – much to the delight of its many regulars. Like its near neighbour on Adelaide Street, this venue is a godsend for Covent Garden’s theatre crowd, with the bonus of a covered terrace. The marble-topped bar and red stools may be reassuringly familiar but there’s always something new to eat, whether you opt for the regular placemat menu or pick something more creative from the daily specials board. Arroz negro (seafood rice blackened with squid ink) is something of a speciality here, but don’t discount the meat and vegetable options – a plate of Iberian pork ribs from the charcoal oven, perhaps, or a dish of fennel with ajo blanco. Para picar nibbles never disappoint, likewise the perfectly runny, made-to-order tortillas and patatas bravisimas. As for that specials board, expect anything from mussels cooked in Basque txakoli wine to skate wing fritura or turbot with confit potatoes, as well as the occasional pig’s head or calçots with romesco. Desserts such as crema calatana and Santiago tart are fixtures, although the board might also list yoghurt sponge or chocolate tart (terse descriptions conceal more than they reveal). Drinkers can sip their way through a cracking list of Spanish regional wines, alongside various sherries and zesty vermouth cocktails.

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.

The idea behind Behind, Andy Beynon’s restaurant on the ground floor of a new development in London Fields, is to foreground what usually goes on behind the scenes. The restaurant, more spacious than its 18 covers might suggest, is open plan with no distinction between kitchen and dining room, front and back of house. The chefs get to enjoy the abstract paintings and the excellent soundtrack too. No wonder they look happy. Although it’s a self-described ‘chef’s table’ set-up, Behind differs from others of this ilk because the counter is a single high table that curves around the room in a near full circle, quite apart from the culinary workspace. Service is delivered entirely by the chefs themselves who come over only when they have a dish to present or a wine to pour. They know their stuff. Beynon, who has worked under Claude Bosi, Phil Howard, Michael Wignall and Jason Atherton, offers a fish-focused daily ‘menu surprise’ at £98 for an eight-course dinner, £54 for a six-course lunch (tremendously good value). He introduces the concept personally and personably, explaining his approach to ethical sourcing and seasoning (he likes to use seawater, not salt). From a waiter, it’s a spiel; direct from the chef-patron, it’s a statement of belief. The first wave of dishes served at our lunchtime inspection expanded on the statement: an intense shellfish broth made only of prawns and wine; lavosh flatbread pressed with microscopic shrimps (‘bycatch’ that would otherwise be wasted); and a sashimi-like sliver of the powerfully flavoured top side of mackerel cured in tiger’s milk. Did the cured trout in seaweed with bonito flakes and a full-bodied mustard and chive emulsion need a buttery laminated bun on the side? No, not really, but who would turn down such excellent baking. Delica pumpkin tortellini made of duck-egg pasta in crab soup was the pinnacle of the meal: rich, sophisticated, complex, clever. The main course, a take on fish pie, with a beautiful glassy piece of skate, oyster leaf, beurre blanc and trout roe, seemed conventional after the pasta. Standards remained high for an 82% chocolate dessert with ricotta ice cream, sesame and black olives, and an optional cheese course that paired blue cheese with sweet plum jam and a frangipane tart. The wine list goes from £39 to £390, with just a handful below £60. But we’d argue that cooking this confident is worthy of a special bottle.

Run with consummate grace and decorum by ever-present Gavin Rankin, this archetypal Mayfair brasserie feels as if it has been around forever – even though it only arrived on the scene in 2004. Inside, the green banquettes are almost an institution in themselves, and everything about the beautifully appointed dining room speaks of discreet civility and understated class – no wonder the late Queen Elizabeth felt right at home here.

In fact, everyone is most welcome and the whole place exudes genuine warmth – thanks in part to ‘truly exceptional’ staff and classical service of the old school. The menu is built on precisely executed, canonical specialities with Provençal overtones – think asparagus with hollandaise sauce, iced lobster soufflé and jambon persillé ahead of steak tartare with Pont Neuf potatoes, red mullet with anchovy butter or entrecôte of beef with pommes frites.

Many dishes have impressed of late, from devilled eggs (rich and creamy) to Dover sole, executed with consummate elegance, flair and copious quantities of butter – plus a dash of seasoning to bring it home. Desserts are well-tried classics, from île flottante, Marina’s chocolate cake and tarte tatin to Bellamy's famous 'soft' ice creams. Otherwise, a bowl of Minstrels (often brought out by Rankin himself) provides the final satisfying flourish. The lunchtime table d’hôte is a steal, and the fiercely Francophile wine list (from £30) offers terrific value across the range.

A ‘very reliable’ Mayfair fixture since 1916, the self-titled ‘grand dame of Swallow Street’ is still shucking oysters with a vengeance under the stewardship of chef/patron Richard Corrigan. These days, regulars agree that its two great assets are the ground-floor Oyster Bar and the spacious gem of a terrace on Swallow Street itself (heated and covered for year-round bonhomie).

If you’re indoors, the best seats are indubitably at the marble-topped bar counter, where you can watch the chefs expertly flashing their thick-bladed oyster knives and doing the business on ‘natives’ and ‘rocks’ from places as far apart as Donegal, Oban and Jersey – although one fan reckons the Pembrokeshire specimens deserve a special mention. Otherwise, squeeze into one of the close-packed tables for a more formal and ‘extremely fresh’ piscine blowout – perhaps scallop ceviche dressed with jalapeño, mint and lime ahead of Dover sole meunière or pan-seared turbot with olive-oil mash and langoustine sauce.

Readers have praised the impeccable Cornish fish stew packed with myriad different species in a tomato and saffron broth, although you can also feast on classics such as fish and chips, fish pie and Bentley’s handsome shellfish platters. Pudding might be crème caramel with Armagnac-soaked prunes or a bitter chocolate mousse embellished with cherries, gold leaf and amaretto. The classy fish-friendly wine list is priced for Mayfair’s big spenders, although it does offer some excellent bargains by the glass.

Under the arches in Haggerston, Josh Katz's team just keeps on grilling – and the effect is as lively and compelling as ever. Meze including spiced chicken wings with garlic sauce are as smoke-licked as larger plates such as wood-roasted pil-pil prawns or smoked lamb neck mechoui, while the things they can do with a vegetable (check out their cauliflower shawarma) are pleasing indeed. There are now two siblings, Carmel in Queen's Park and Shawarma Bar in Exmouth Market.

'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). 

It’s easy to walk past Bibi. One’s eye tends to be drawn to North Audley Street’s flashier inhabitants, such as The Ivy Asia or Roka. But this bijou space, which combines the look of a luxurious railway dining car with a private members-only club feel, is by far the more interesting option – its sociable vibe, warm service and small-plate Indian cooking seducing most who cross its threshold.

Chet Sharma's modern Anglo-Indian cuisine fuses different culinary influences from across the Subcontinent with the absolute best of British produce. His delicate blend of spices, the unique tangy, sour notes, the subtle hint of heat that lingers gently on the palate, the extra layers of taste and texture, translate into creative small plates such as the never-off-the-menu interpretations of nimbu pani or the signature Sharmaji’s Lahori chicken, all carried off with the same sure touch and stunning presentation.

The best seats are the comfortable counter stools that grandstand the long, narrow kitchen, though there are some black-leather booths along the opposite wall. It's pricey (the five-course lunch taster is a good introduction). But limber up with a cocktail, lean into the warmth of the service and the extremely well-chosen (if expensive) wines, and this is a great option for an unstuffy celebratory meal.

Tailor-made for the Square Mile, this branch of the Blacklock mini chain peddles its reimagined chophouse wares in the cellar of a Grade II-listed building a couple of minutes’ walk from Monument tube station. Inside, it has the now-familiar stripped-back feel, with old brickwork, stained glass partitions, concrete floors and booming music providing the soundtrack. There's a cocktail bar too, if you fancy a sharpener before tackling the hefty servings of prime British-reared meats (butcher’s prices for various cuts and weights are chalked on pillars in the dining room).

The best deal for sharing is the £27 ‘all in’ option (a stack of beef, pork and lamb piled high on herb-flecked chargrilled flatbreads to soak up the juices); otherwise kick off with, say, pig's head on toast plus a 'boat' of proper gravy, before gnawing on a plate of blushing-pink ‘skinny chops’ (grilled using vintage Blacklock irons). 'Doorstop-thick’ prime ribs, lamb rumps and grass-fed, dry-aged steaks with moreish sauces, sides and salads are also in demand; if you make it to pudding, you might be tempted by the white chocolate cheesecake, which is doled out tableside.

Lunch-break staples such as burgers and steak sarnies go down well, while Sunday means Blacklock's hugely popular family-style roasts, including an 'all in' offer of three meats that's custom-built for groups – not forgetting ‘the best Sunday roast gravy ever’. Apart from jazzy cocktails, drinks include wines on tap (as well as heavyweight bottles for serious drinkers), plus some own-label beers.

Secreted on a quiet side-street away from the frantic bustle of Covent Garden, the West End outpost of Blacklock is a softly lit basement room sandwiched between walls of wood and brick, run by expertly attentive staff in surroundings that are probably fated to be considered masculine. Chops, steaks and meaty things are the order of the day, and there is a determined refusal to beat about any bushes.

Start with pig's head on toast (not the whole thing), or a gravied 'cull yaw' crumpet made with the meat of a mature ewe. All the meat comes from Philip Warren in Cornwall, and shouts its pedigree, even in the high-hat burgers, which ooze forth their cheese and are packed with onions caramelised in vermouth. Chips, naturally, are done in beef dripping. There are some vitamins too, in the shape of braised cauliflower with sprouts and chestnuts or broccoli and walnut salad, but the kitchen can't resist barbecuing the baby gems and lapping them with rich anchovy dripping. Enormous sharing steaks come with the likes of well-made béarnaise or chilli hollandaise.

Finish with a traditional crumble, accompanied by ice cream or custard, or the signature white chocolate cheesecake, served from a big tray. Blacklock's Sunday roasts are also memorable, and groups can take advantage of an ‘all in’ offer promising three meats plus all the incidentals, including some of the best gravy in the business. Drinks run from own-label beers and lagers (brewed by the Harbour Brew Co in Cornwall) to idiosyncratic wines (including some on tap) personally selected by the owners.

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. 

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).

Locals heap praise on this amiable, daytime-only bakery/café, piling in for breakfast, morning coffee, sandwiches and one-plate lunchtime dishes. Blake's is the real deal. Zealous sourcing is key to the kitchen’s efforts, with bread, cakes and savouries baked daily and just about everything else made to order. The cinnamon buns are justly famous (60,000 produced in 2023), fine weather sees outside seating under a sail awning come into its own, and the café emphasises its 'village hub' feel by incorporating a post office counter. There are branches at Soho Farmhouse (private members' club) near Chipping Norton and on the Buscot and Coleshill Estates (NT) – but we say there should be a Blake's Kitchen in every village.

As a neighbourhood bistro of the old school, Xavier Rousset's Comptoir, just off Marylebone High Street, fits its London purlieu to a T. Tables squeezed into a higgledy-piggledy set of spaces, keyed-up French staff, a general air of warm-heartedness and a commendable wine list specialising in the expansive fertility of the Rhône region all contribute to the appeal. Sharing dishes suit the mood – think a baked Camembert with onions and pancetta followed by a great hunk of côte de boeuf with skinny frites and peppercorn sauce. We enjoyed a chicken and chanterelle tart positively blitzed with capers, and a more off-piste serving of juniper-cured sea trout in teriyaki dressing with slivers of ultra-ripe mango. Pork in the form of a rump steak with a black-pudding croquette, creamy morel sauce and mash are what bistro cooking is all about, or there may be hake with a chargrilled tiger prawn in sea herbs and lovage oil. For pudding, our pear tarte fine lacked a little dessert energy, but its accompanying vanilla ice cream was the business. If the broad French boulevards of the main list don't haul you in, look to the separately printed glass selection. Who could resist the siren-like call of Xavier Gérard's Condrieu?

On the third floor of the 'Cheesegrater', Sir Richard Rogers' late-modernist monolith, Bob Bob Ricard's City branch doesn't have the jaw-dropping views that a higher floor would provide, but (and it's a big but) the real jaw-dropper is Shayne Brady's flamboyant interior design. It's shimmeringly opulent. If that, and the dress code ('Elegant, ties not required. Formal fashionwear is welcome') rings alarm bells, this place might not be for you. Sister to the Soho original, BBR City is the perfect home for this blend of glamour and modern comfort food. Every table is actually a booth (complete with its own 'Press for Champagne' button) which adds to the sense of exclusivity, while the menu of British and European classics has an egalitarian appeal. Vodka shots (served at -18°C) and three caviars (served with crème fraîche and blinis) are perfect openers in such surroundings, but things don't have to get out of hand. Menu prices aren't too terrifying given the setting. Stinking Bishop cheese soufflé is an opening course of distinction, or how about escargots en persillade? Classics and comforts continue into main courses of chicken and Champagne pie, cassoulet with crispy confit duck leg, or beef Wellington with truffle jus for two to share. Finish with a shot of Limonnaya vodka (-18°C, naturally) and/or rum and raisin rice pudding. The wine list opens with Champagnes galore and doesn't stint on the French classics – just don't expect many options below £40 a bottle.

‘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.

As the hurricane of voguish London dining whirls on, it is momentarily easy to forget how much of a gust of fresh air Bocca di Lupo was when Jacob Kenedy opened it way back in the distant land of 2008. If places can struggle to get noticed in the Soho bustle, Bocca suffered no such indignity. Getting in at all was more often the problem. It still delivers an infectiously dynamic ambience, the best seats being the counter perches facing the kitchen, while the menus still change fast enough to make yesterday vanish without trace. Home-baked bread is the business – focaccia and ciabatta are served gratis with olives and oil while you ponder. What the kitchen deals in is regional Italy, not just generic Italy, with ancestral dishes accorded their provenance, no matter how recent or ancient the tradition. Pasta is naturally everything you would expect: a generous plate of orecchiette in a vibrant green sauce of chard, garlic and pecorino, or even simpler rigatoni coated in a luscious cream sauce of nutmeg and more pecorino. Main-course proteins are hearty presentations of top-spec ingredients. A pork T-bone is grilled golden and neatly sliced, awaiting a side of, say, datterini tomatoes and borlotti beans, plus some glisteningly braised chard for good measure. Eye-catching fish dishes could include a collar of grilled amberjack with gremolata or bream baked in a 'sarcophagus' of salt. Bocca's famous salad of radish, celeriac, Parmesan, pomegranate, truffle and parsley still gets an outing, and is still worth trying as an object lesson in the combinatorial arts. Finish with the Gelupo ice creams (also starring just over the road), or something like crème caramel with rhubarb. Service could relax a little, and it could be a little more clued-up. A regionally discerning collection of Italian wines adds to the lustre. Prices at the more affordable end seem pretty reasonable for the location, with small glasses from £5.80.

Anyone who has seen the movie The Lunchbox will know about the ‘dabbawalas’ who bike thousands of tiffin tins to office workers across Mumbai and other Indian cities. This casual sibling of Jamavar brings some of that homespun subcontinental spice and flavour to central Mayfair, with plenty of (Bombay) bustle and noisy chatter to go with the smoky aromas. Against a slick Art Deco backdrop inspired by the city’s first-class railway carriages, the kitchen doles out dishes full of up-front punch and invigorating freshness, with touches of glamour and panache thrown in for good measure. Some of the best things are the small plates – pao buns stuffed with lamb keema, peppery spiced scrambled eggs with truffle oil and naan, crispy new potatoes with Tulsi chilli chutney. If something more substantial is required, look to the line-up of tandoor-fired dishes, biryanis and curries – from Goan-style stone bass tikka with chilli paste to Malabar lamb or a version of chicken Madras involving coconut milk and ‘southern spices’. Dhals, vegetables and sides will please all palates and persuasions, while dessert might bring masala chai panna cotta with strawberries and figs. On Sunday, the Bombay Bustle 'brunch bundle' is a local hit. To drink, east-west cocktails are quite the thing here, (try the signature G&T made with Nagpur orange bitter and gin distilled in a 100-year-old copper pot); otherwise glug a bottle of Indian beer or something from the global wine list.

Are high-profile restaurants above pubs becoming a thing in London? On the first floor of the Three Compasses pub in Farringdon, this reworking of Henry Harris’s famed (and much missed) Racine in Knightsbridge revives the chef’s avowed mission to provide resolutely French food and drink after a gap of seven years. Reached via steep stairs, it’s a pleasant, light-filled room, where a lot of effort has gone into creating a mood that is warm and unpretentious. Come here if you want straight-talking Gallic brasserie classics, dishes straight out of Larousse Gastronomique. Escargots à la bourguignonne, perhaps, or Bayonne ham with celeriac rémoulade, then rabbit with mustard sauce or côte de boeuf with sauce béarnaise. All dishes are chosen from a large, densely written blackboard menu, hoisted from table to table – a convincing slice of France if it weren’t for the mainly English accents of the on-the-ball waiting staff. Our meal opened with a gutsy, rich scallop dish (one of the evening specials), served with its coral atop a purée of fennel, lemon and olive oil, ahead of a Racine classic – tête de veau with a punchy sauce ravigote (one of the best-selling items on the menu). To conclude, we enjoyed a hard-to-fault pot de crème aux griottines. The mainly French wine list is a good one, with about 14 by the glass (from £7.50), and bottles from £29.95.

Ticketholders heading for the nearby Hampstead Theatre take full advantage of the fixed-price supper menu on offer at Simon Bradley’s neighbourhood stalwart, which has been a diamond for the denizens of Swiss Cottage and beyond since 1992. Fans appreciate the fact that the chef serves up ‘excellent ingredients in a relatively simple and unfussy way’ – no wonder locals pack the good-looking dining room with its pastel shades, big contemporary canvases and spotlights twinkling from the ceiling.

Simon’s cooking may have a noticeable French accent, but he buys British – procuring oysters from West Mersea, seafood from Cornwall, lamb from West Country farms and Scottish beef for his Sunday roasts. This translates into dishes such as steak tartare with spiced parsnips and pickled walnut ketchup, wiener schnitzel or gurnard with ratatouille, wilted greens and a side order of gratin dauphinoise.

There is also plenty of finesse on show when it comes to desserts such chocolate pavé or black cherry and orange soufflé with vanilla ice cream – although there’s also traditional comfort in the shape of blackberry and apple tart. Service is ‘spot-on, precise and knowledgeable without being overly formal,’ observed one regular. Prices are ‘exceptionally reasonable’ – and that includes the wine list, which does its job admirably (note the terrific section by the glass).

Walton Street is abuzz night and day, and this up-tempo brasserie is regularly packed with all-comers – from university academics to locals from Jericho’s desirable residences. There’s ample space, with a bar (modern art, a chandelier and picture windows), a dining area (bare brick walls and parquet flooring), function rooms and a garden terrace at the back, plus a daytime café/deli next door. Not surprisingly, it's also great for large parties.

The menu, while short on thrills, does its job well enough, with Italian cooking to the fore – including a choice of four pizzas and a trio of pastas. Young staff with ‘all the right attitudes’ plonk excellent focaccia and olive oil/balsamic onto every table as an introduction. Maybe start with a warming bowl of borlotti bean and Swiss chard soup or one of the zingy salads (perhaps grilled halloumi with roasted butternut squash, tenderstem broccoli, chicory and fregola). Impressively proportioned mains cover a lot of ground, from fish stew with chickpeas and rouille to Moroccan lamb kebabs with harissa flatbread, bolstered by steaks and burgers.

Desserts end proceedings on a high note, offering anything from a brownie sundae with vanilla ice cream, raspberries and chocolate sauce to a lemon tart of rare delicacy. To drink, the decent Sicilian house white is supported by a pertinent selection of Old and New World choices, with almost everything available by the glass. 

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.

Brat’s Tomos Parry first did a residency at Climpson’s Arch, a coffee roastery near London Fields, back in 2013. He returned after lockdown and has stayed put. On offer is a rollicking inside-outside operation, with tables in the courtyard by the wood-fired grill, and also inside the railway arch where trains rumble overhead. Service starts in perfunctory fashion. ‘Have you taken a photo of the menu?’ passes for 'hello' (the menu is written on a blackboard, so you need to snap a pic). But what a menu! It reveals Parry’s affinity with cooking from the Basque Country. Many come for the mammoth grilled whole turbot (around £150 and enough for four) and Flintstone-esque beef ribs. Lighter ideas include grilled peas in the pod, salted pollock crudo, young leeks with fresh cheese, and a fritto misto of Flourish Farm produce (including, but not limited to, mint leaves, asparagus, broccoli and a whole red chilli). A top tempura chef could hardly better the lacy batter, pristine frying and impeccable produce on show here. Parry is even better known for his fish cookery, and it’s refreshing to see cuts such as hake collar with aïoli and a soothing, traditional hake pil-pil with kokotxas (cheeks) and big creamy beans. Basque burnt cheeecake has become very fashionable of late, thanks in no small part to Parry; his version, with a puddle of vanilla sauce and rhubarb compôte, is a good one. Excellent cocktails including Climpson’s Espresso Martinis, natural wines and cold Estrella Galicia on draught provide the lubrication. On a busy night, the place is packed, the staff harried, the atmosphere unparalleled. Great fun.

Brawn has matured like the street on which it stands. Once a pig-focused pioneer in the hipster hangout of Columbia Road, it's now a long-standing institution, catering to professionals of this coveted London postcode. To step inside, however, is to find a place still young at heart – old school hip-hop blurts out of vintage speakers, a forest of empty wine bottles adorns the whitewashed walls, mid-century chairs clatter about a dining room that’s packed even in the midweek doldrums.

The menu rotates almost as quickly as the vinyl records here, but there are classics at the heart of things: among them Parmesan fritters – little crispy balls of white-hot cheese, lost under a heavy snowfall of Parmesan shavings. The kitchen is adept at stylish presentation: notably in a delicious starter of crab amid thickets of agretti and blood orange. By contraast, meaty mains on our visit had a bias towards the rustic: braised rabbit agnolotti with rosemary or veal blanquette with wild mushrooms, perhaps. A highlight was a hefty Barnsley chop, served alongside crispy torpedo-like pink fir potatoes and the tang of anchoaïde.

Desserts might include a much-loved vanilla panna cotta happily sozzled in Campari – although a sight to behold on our visit was a tall, teetering stack of rhubarb and custard mille-feuille. An expansive wine list goes big on French and skin-contact offerings. 'Very cool, but not pretentious,' is one verdict.

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.

Brook House may be noisy and lively, but it has kept the warm, welcoming ethos and atmosphere of a pub. It's hugely popular with locals (often with kids and dogs in tow), while close-packed tables mean that you can earwig other diners' conversations – although the noise levels and music aren't to everyone's taste. The menu is full of promise and the kitchen is able to do it justice, while lovely staff are on hand to guide everyone through the oft-changing repertoire (organised by size rather than course). Oysters are always popular, as is steak tartare, although the chef really gets into his stride when it comes to more elaborate ideas: huge grilled red prawns come with kumquat, chilli and an accompanying dollop of miso mayonnaise, while a chargrilled pork chop (with a crisp, melting crust) is made more luxurious by the addition of morels, Madeira and wild garlic. Sides, especially sprouting broccoli with labneh and salsa verde, are excellent. To conclude, millionaire's tart (with crème fraîche from Neal's Yard) is the best-selling dessert, and there are cheeses from La Fromagerie. The wide-ranging wine list has a decent smattering of magnums for special occasions or long, languorous Sunday lunches, as well as good choice of house pours; cocktails are popular too.

Mixing a come-as-you-please vibe with upbeat cooking, loud music, a sense of fun and unquestionable value (note the £5 Negronis and spritzes) – the late Russell Norman’s formula for a good restaurant was always guaranteed to win over the local populace. Now run by Monique Sierra, Brutto is as popular as ever, with the checked tablecloths, Chianti bottles and typewritten menu (in Italian and English) summoning up the spirit of a traditional Florentine trattoria.

There is much to applaud here. A plate of anchovies with cold butter curls and St John sourdough is a good starting point, and we are big fans of the pork tonnato with caperberries. Elsewhere, there’s exemplary pasta (perhaps pappardelle with rabbit and lemon or maltagliati with oxtail ragù), plus a punchy, fall-apart beef shin and peppercorn stew, and an 800g Florentine T-bone steak that was shared by three contented diners and pronounced ‘fantastic’ – even the house red they washed it down with ‘was more than acceptable’. Brutto's roast potatoes are also 'something special', too. 

Desserts are no slouch either. We can recommend the tiramisu, but it's also worth looking out for the panna cotta with English strawberries or poached apricots with aged Parmesan. The young front-of-house team is superbly drilled, and there’s an attractive list of mainly (but not exclusively) Tuscan and other Italian wines.

It may be holed up on a charmless side street off Broadway Market, but this neighbourhood hangout is manna for Hackney’s cool young crowd. It helps that chef/owner Max Rocha has a famous father (Hong Kong-born fashion designer John Rocha), an inspirational Irish mother and a culinary CV that includes big hitters St John Bread & Wine and the River Café. Friends and family count for a great deal here (the titular Cecilia is Max's grandmother), and the menu is stuffed with inviting platefuls for regulars and first-timers alike – sandwiches, kippers or boiled eggs with Guinness bread for breakfast, say. Later on, visitors can expect a roll call of rustic dishes with Anglo-Irish overtones and some European influences, from pork and apricot terrine or calçots with romesco to skate with spinach, brown butter and capers or mussels with 'nduja and wholegrain polenta. If you fancy something for afters, the deep-fried bread and butter pudding with 'cold custard' is exceedingly tempting. The setting is a small, square canteen-style room with plenty of light during the day, while service comes without frills or posturing – just as it should be. 

Image: Maureen M. Evans

Anna Tobias works to a formula of doing simple, straightforward dishes with appreciable panache. Menus at her crowd-pleasing Bloomsbury café change weekly, and the food retains the kind of deceptively domestic air that can all too easily fool punters into thinking that they could knock up something similar at home. Start with some nibbly fare, along the lines of charcuterie or mussels in escabeche. After that, salt cod fritters with aïoli bring on a great whack of punchy seasoning and resonating garlic, or you might consider bistro-style stalwarts such as artichoke vinaigrette or tuna, radish and winter tomato salad. Robustly proportioned main dishes aim for unabashed sustenance, ranging from a Spanish-style ranch stew of sausage, morcilla, bacon and beans to baked brill with potato and more aïoli. Come hungry, as they say. As this is nominally a café, there may well be cake to finish – chocolate and walnut, possibly – but also crema catalana or rhubarb ice cream for those who are watching their carbs. The largely European wine list features plenty of enterprising discernment, from a Tarragona Macabeu-Muscat blend to a cherry-ripe Sicilian Frappato.

Describing their venue as a neighbourhood restaurant inside a 19th-century pub, the good folk at The Camberwell Arms have an appealing proposition on a busy road that slices through SE5. 'Compelling, simple, seasonal' food is the real deal, served up in relaxed, pared-back spaces where the bones of the old pub remain in its stripped floors, fireplaces and high Victorian ceilings. There's a hatch window out front so drinks can pass to thirsty locals on the pavement, and a private dining room with its own bar at the other end of the spectrum. The gauntlet is thrown down with 'Scotch bonnet pork fat on toast' – a dish of fire and fat, and not for the faint-hearted. Share a few small plates such as semolina gnocchi in a 'bright, fresh' San Marzano tomato sauce or charred onions with artichoke pesto and pistachios; otherwise, stick to the trad two- or three-course format. A bigger helping of grilled fish (wild bream or plaice, maybe) arrives with chips and aïoli, while thinly sliced porchetta is dressed with white peaches and rosemary. Two like-minded people can go for sharers such as half a spit-roast chicken (with blistered hispi cabbage and crème fraîche enriched with chicken fat) or aged Hereford rump steak with anchovy dripping. To finish, a 'beautiful' apricot and chocolate galette with crème fraîche and sour-cherry molasses sent one reader away very happy. Sunday lunches catch the eye with more of those sharers as well as roast potatoes cooked with sage and lemon. The drinking options include cocktails and well-chosen wines (from £26.50).

Flagship of the three-strong Cambio de Tercio group, this Spanish favourite has been a fixture of the Old Brompton Road scene for almost three decades. A distinctive yellow logo on a black background announces the place and the warm, comforting dining room isn’t short on character, with black slate tiles, black leather seats and matador-themed oil paintings on vividly coloured walls (deep yellow, crimson, raspberry). A whole, acorn-fed Iberian ham from Jabugo stands proudly on the counter, while the menu offers some 20 tapas, ranging from must-order ham croquetas (crisp on the outside, cheesy within) to a crispy 'taco' loaded with a ceviche of red prawns from Huelva. New items appear regularly too: we enjoyed an innovative plate of sea bream (its skin quickly blowtorched) topped with seaweed and lifted by a light, citrussy yuzu and aji amarillo sauce. However, a dish of confit leeks with a rosemary vinaigrette and olive oil was let down by undercooking. Larger items include beef Wellington with truffle and Madeira sauce (a Spanish twist on a British classic) as well as grilled ‘pluma Ibérica’ pork with roast pineapple, prunes and chard. There’s a ‘catch of the day’ too, plus a handful of desserts (hot Spanish chocolate and churros pastries, say). Owner, Abel Lusa hails from Rioja and takes his native wines seriously: with some 500 bottles to choose from, this may be the largest Spanish list in the UK. Reds are given greater prominence than whites, and there are some fine old vintages from Vega Sicilia Unico, the 'royalty' of Spanish estates.

It’s not easy to secure a reservation at this neighbourhood restaurant even with the tiny room supplemented by a covered outside space and cellar. Fashionable Dalston diners clearly relish the white-knuckle ride of a £65 surprise menu that might involve beef garum solids, fish scales or fermented tomato skins. Chef Adolfo de Cecco (previously of Pidgin) is heavily into fermentation. The eight courses including snacks, pre-dessert and petits fours are all delivered by the chefs themselves. Japanese milk bread with a swirl of monkfish liver is a good start. Two vegetable dishes come next, an interesting study in carrot (the carrots cooked in carrot juice, also dehydrated then rehydrated) and a tiny baked potato in an intensely cheesy and quite salty milk garum sauce. Ingredients are excellent, including a delicate pollock and superb eight-week aged dairy cow with a clever Jerusalem artichoke and umeboshi sauce. An ice-cream sandwich of candied nori with a parfait of beef garum solids and rhubarb sorbet, works quite well but could have been more sharply executed. Worried about finding a wine to match? There’s a £49 pairing and a list of two dozen natural wines chosen to suit the food: 'You can’t go wrong,' we’re told. We’re unfamiliar with many of the wines, so resort to Google; a strong sommelier and finer stemware would have enhanced the experience. Daring and at times difficult, Casa Fofó is one for those who like their supper with a side of intellectual stimulation.

Booking is absolutely essential at this tiny, stereotypical French bistro, where the floor is all black and white tiles, the gingham-clothed tables are tight-packed, and the walls sport French advertising posters. That said, everyone is here for the good food and jolly atmosphere. The daily menu – only three choices per course – is chalked up on a blackboard, and when dishes are gone, they are gone. This is proper cuisine grand-mère, where a bowl of soupe à l'oignon, kept steaming hot with the traditional blanket of melted Gruyère on toast, might precede confit rabbit leg accompanied by a traditional sauce moutarde (served on very decent mash) or monkfish with saffron risotto and squid ink. There’s a typically Gallic shrug when it comes to vegetables, but portions are generous, expertly cooked and served with a certain elan by heavily accented French staff. Not everyone makes it to pudding, but if you do, you’ll find classics such as île flottante – a perfect example, not too sweet and dotted with toasted almonds. Though no one ever seems to rush, the 25 or so seats will be turned at least twice a night. The wine list (also scrawled on a blackboard) stays in France, with every bottle offered by the glass and carafe.

The prospect of chilling out on a hugely desirable decked terrace by the river Cherwell makes this enchanting Victorian boathouse one of Oxford’s great delights – and that’s before you factor in its glorious wine cellar and the added temptations of punting on the water. Dating from 1904, this beloved institution is also a good shout for capably handled food with noticeable English and French accents. Nothing is overplayed here, but the kitchen comes up with subtly creative ideas to match the seasons. Eating alfresco in summer, you might indulge in a bowl of gazpacho with watermelon or Cornish mackerel with sauce pipérade ahead of Cotswold chicken breast with samphire, tarragon and pea fricassée. Come winter, other treats await those who congregate in the dining room – an affable blend of wooden floorboards, bare beams and white tablecloths. Openers such as venison fritters with Parmesan purée and crispy kale might precede guinea fowl adorned with a festive harvest of walnut purée, wild mushrooms, roasted Brussels sprouts and bone marrow jus. For afters, hot chocolate pot with passion fruit is a perennial favourite – although you might prefer local strawberries with elderflower custard or tarte tatin with Calvados ice cream, depending on the calendar. For many, however, it’s all about the superlative wine list, an all-embracing compendium stuffed with mouthwatering global selections ranging from Old World aristocrats of high pedigree to the most fashionable young contenders. Mark-ups are kind, with selections from the 'shortlist' starting at £19.75 (£5 for a standard glass).

Fast approaching its 30th anniversary, Chez Bruce still has the Wandsworth wind in its sails. As a neighbourhood grandee, it's true testament to Bruce Poole and Nigel Platts-Martin's conception that a restaurant should be a place of resort for those who love to dine well, rather than an excuse to massage the egos of celebrities – either out front or in the kitchen. With its expansive views over the Common, the cream-toned dining room is light and uplifting, with linened tables and service that is all about courteous professionalism. It is, par excellence, a place for unhurried lunches.

Matt Christmas has been at the stoves for a sizeable chunk of his career, resulting in a formidable level of consistency and a commitment to excelling that doesn't waver. The daily changing menu, viewed through one prism, could be characterised as the best of modern European bistro cooking, with plenty of choice and plenty going on in each dish. A starter of braised and crisped lambs' tongues comes with tomato and pepper couscous, a heap of properly smoky baba ganoush, a little creamy labneh, silky garlic pesto, and a scattering of crunchy shallot – the Levantine world on a plate.

Pasta never subsides into the starchy humdrum, witness duck ragù and morteau sausage with pudgy little cavatelli under a pangrattato top. Fish cooking might take inspiration from India (tandoori sea bream partnered with curried smoked haddock and a potato samosa, dressed in almonds, lemon and coriander, say), while the French country tradition is celebrated in flawless blanquette de veau with a sweetbread raviolo and veal sausage in a satiny sauce sprinkled with chervil. Nor do desserts repine into the standard double-act; instead, there might be poached pear with hazelnut meringue, caramel cream, caramel ice cream and chocolate sauce – a Belle Hélène that's been to finishing school.

The cheese platter is fully worth the supplement for the breadth of choice, the quality crackers and the membrillo. On the drinks front, an expertly curated modern wine selection does an agile job of satisfying novelty-hungry imbibers as well as traditionalists, with a selection of small glasses from £8.50.

Chishuru's long, narrow dining room looks like a lot of contemporary London restaurants – on the stark side of comfortable, with bare tables, wood floors and an open kitchen – but with a more intimate feel to the warm-toned, low-lit dining space in the basement. Here, Adejoké (Joké) Bakaré’s vibrant cooking draws on the rich culinary culture of Nigeria. The £50 four-course lunch menu is appealing, with praiseworthy dishes ranging from a deep-fried fermented rice cake topped with stir-fried chanterelles and chestnut mushroom purée, all strewn with grains of paradise (which provided a delectable spicy kick) to an ekoki corn cake topped with a little coconut cream and served with a piquant date and tamarind sauce and some candied chilli – starchy foods being the mainstay of Nigerian cuisine. Come for dinner and the five-course set menu is priced at £75, with the option to add extra dishes at a supplement. If ingredients are unfamiliar, unfortunately explanations aren't always the clearest, but the moi moi (steamed bean pudding) with lamb broth-cooked tomato, shrimp shito and salted egg sauce, was a highlight at our meal; we also enjoyed the kick from the little bowl of 'peppersoup', which came with pickled oyster mushroom, compressed beetroot, apple and uziza leaf. On the downside, delicious and tender slices of pink mutton cutlet with a coffee and yaji dressing, creamy peanut, udu and uziza sauce and sides of ginger fried rice, fried plantain and (too bitter) endive with preserved lemon, lacked cohesion. However, soursop ice cream and burnt marshmallow, served with a soft moringa biscuit, clementine, pomelo and grapefruit with Timur pepper made a refreshing finish. Service is charming and efficient, and there is a good selection of European wines by the bottle and glass, all chosen to go with the food.

Launched in 2008 as a supper club run by two siblings, Chuku's deals in what we might call 'Nigerian tapas' in a Tottenham location a couple of minutes from Seven Sisters tube station. It's a sweet spot for brunch and the volume of endorsements from readers of Nigerian heritage is powerful testimony to the success of what it does: 'fantastic food, fantastic staff, great vibes in the restaurant'. Prices are reasonable enough, says another, 'that you can go quite frequently'. Who could wish for anything more?

What people love about the food, which is served in 'a pop of welcoming colour', is its combination of authenticity and innovation, balancing fortifying sustenance with the lively spice traditions of West Africa. There's fried plantain tossed in coconut and cinnamon, as well as a version of home-style 'party jollof' involving rice or quinoa steamed in a tomato and pepper stew and then smoked, while the egusi soup is made from ground melon seeds, partnered with spinach in coriander and fennel, more pepper and tomato, and soft yam dumplings.

The nourishing nature of much of the food is bolstered by its shameless deliciousness: how about chicken wings coated in salted caramel, and served with kuli kuli – a popular gingery peanut biscuit from the central regions of Nigeria. You'll wonder where that's been all your life. Banga prawns are fried, then combined with a palm fruit slaw that's full of herbal tang. Finish with yam brownies. Drinking is a matter of vivacious cocktails, palm wine or African beer.

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

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

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

* This branch is closing for good at the end of service on 11 October 2024. The Hove outlet remains open.*

With its sun-trap terrace, bright abstract artworks and a menu of firm Italian favourites, this corner site is one of Fitzrovia's premier attractions. It operates a monthly changing menu at kindly prices, served in an atmosphere of warm southern hospitality. There is plenty to ignite the taste buds in a repertoire that roams from burrata with fried polenta, peperonata and hot honey via risotto nero with soused cuttlefish to roasted chicken in its own rich broth with caponata and runner beans. 'The duck ragù,' affirms an experienced correspondent, 'is better than sex.' Other plus points include vegan and gluten-free menus, a midweek dinner offer and a serviceable Italian wine list. 

Post-lockdown, chef Jake Finn’s Belsize Park eatery started with outside seating only but quickly became a vibrant addition to the local community. With just 18 covers indoors, it’s a tight squeeze (a few tables lined-up alongside a long banquette), but there’s an easy-going, convivial vibe about the place – ‘like sitting in someone's front room,’ observed one visitor. Relaxed, well-informed staff know the crowd and go about their business breezily. The menu isn't fussy either, there's plenty of choice and almost everything is ‘kissed by the flames’ of the Josper grill.

Proceedings start well, with moreish, almost ‘ashy' grilled bread, confit garlic tahini and burnt tomato salsa. After that, it's all about full-on flavours and intelligent ideas, with plenty of char to boot – from courgettes with stracciatella, pine nuts and sour cherry molasses to lamb loin chops dressed up with yoghurt, maple and sage. Fish is also worth a punt – our cod had a special texture and smoky edge, or there might be whole sea bream with fennel, radish and fresh herbs. A couple of desserts (crème brûlée, lemon posset) round things off.

Drinks are reasonably priced across the range, from an impressive cocktail menu to a fairly classical wine list offering plenty by the glass, and the place is now open for breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays. In short, Cinder is ‘exactly what you want from a neighbourhood restaurant.’

Back in 1984, Sally Clarke MBE was one of the first chefs to introduce London's restaurant-goers to the now-fashionable notions of seasonality and traceability; she was also an early champion of organic produce. Little has changed in the intervening years. Her once-famous no-choice menu may have been replaced by a carte of daily changing dishes, but the cooking is still influenced by time spent at Alice Waters' Chez Panisse in California.

Dining takes place in a light room dressed in neutral tones (green-grey walls, wicker chairs, black leather banquettes, polished wood flooring) with well-spaced, white-clothed tables and contemporary artwork. The atmosphere is quiet and refined, service courteous and attentive – more so if you are a regular.

There's a naturalistic quality to the menu and the kitchen puts a premium on execution rather than creativity – a delightful Cornish crab salad with tardivo radicchio, lemon mayonnaise and puntarelle plus a couple of rye toasts, say. To follow, our loin of Scottish fallow deer – roasted with thyme and apple and teamed with baked beetroot, cavolo nero and herbed lentils – was elegantly cooked, allowing the flavour to shine. We finished on a high note with a light yet rich dark chocolate and almond cake with crème fraîche.

The set menu is keenly priced for this exclusive neighbourhood and the wine list is a cracker, with quality bottles starting at £30.50 (for an own-label Verdicchio 2020) plus 30 by the glass or carafe. Also look out for mature vintages of Ridge Monte Bello from the Santa Cruz Mountains in Sally Clarke's beloved California.

This area of Fitzrovia is beginning to be known for some exceptionally good eating, and Will Lander and Daniel Morgenthau’s pioneering Clipstone (a sister restaurant to nearby Portland) is a case in point. Opened in 2017, the place has settled comfortably into its stride. Decor-wise, it’s not much – bare-boarded floor, plain tables and chairs, an open kitchen – but it comes across as very much a neighbourhood restaurant (despite the central London location), one where the mood is relaxed and the food is a delight. Short menus (lunch is a bargain) offer wonderfully seasonal dishes that are straightforward, mostly simple assemblies with inspired finishing touches – moules-frites with hispi cabbage and green apple, say, or a Tamworth pork loin partnered by parsley root, boudin noir and quince. At a winter lunch, a simple snack of salty aubergine fritti with 'dijonnaise' went well with a glass of Thörle ‘Feinherb’ Riesling Rheinhessen. Then came a little biscuity galette topped with ricotta, young violet artichokes and roasted hazelnuts, followed by crisp-skinned Cornish bream with buttery Yukon Gold mash, a slick of equally buttery sauce and some crunchy monk's beard. Dessert was equally reassuring, a pistachio and marmalade cake with Grand Marnier ice cream. The wine list is a headline attraction in itself, bursting with pink, orange and skin-contact tipples, artisan gems and a ‘single bottle' selection that's well worth exploring.

Like Kitty Fisher’s on Shepherd Market, this Covent Garden beauty is named after a 19th-century courtesan – although it feels more 'decadent' with lush velvety fabrics, dark green tones and varnished woodwork creating an inviting backdrop for plates of comforting food with strong Anglo-European leanings. Scallops Rockefeller makes a good opener, likewise a riff on the ‘ham and cheese toastie’ theme, although you can also get fresh with a perfectly rounded salad of endives, walnuts, Stilton and pear. Follow on with Devon lamb cutlets partnered by carrots and buttered kale, a bowl of fish stew with croûtons or Creedy Carver duck accompanied by Swiss chard and quince.

If you’re hoping for at least one showstopper, look no further than the chips – ‘the best I’ve ever tasted,’ drooled one fan. Hot, crisp, fatty and deliriously moreish, they are cooked and pressed for 24 hours before being cut into Jenga-like oblongs and dunked in the deep-fryer. To conclude, a creamy bowl of ‘milk and cookies’ is the go-to option, although readers have also praised the chocolate crémeux with praline and the ginger cheesecake.

Given that Cora Pearl is a stone’s throw from the Royal Opera House and other West End attractions, the pre-theatre menu is a no-brainer, likewise the Sunday lunch offer. To drink, Bloody Marys seem to suit the mood, and there’s also a short list of European wines from £33.

The new decorative look at Core has worked wonders. What was an underused bar space is now Whiskey & Seaweed (named for its signature cocktail), and the dining room has had quite the 'glow-up' too. The expansive space is bathed in bronze light, with candles performing their age-old office of making a restaurant table look inviting, and at the centre of it all is a striking column, loaded with uplit glassware. So far, so chic. An army of staff is on permanent manoeuvres, yet without making the place feel like a parade-ground. Efficiency and discretion are as finely judged as is consistent given the ambitious context, with just enough friendly chat to ensure civility. As for Clare Smyth's food, the first thing to say is that, for a venue operating in this bracket, it has an uncommonly solid following of regulars. Call them the core of Core. As soon as the nibbles appear, one can see why: a truffled pumpkin gougère; a lobster roll; a caviar sandwich, all sublime. Bread is made with Wessex flour and served with whipped buttermilk. Dishes from the full menu are capable of balancing sparkling freshness and delicate textures – just consider the Isle of Harris scallop tartare in sea-vegetable consommé, the shell sitting proud on a mound of flora. A more assertive fish pairing sees roasted cod honour-guarded with Morecambe Bay shrimps and Swiss chard in brown butter. Tour the home nations with a main course of Rhug Estate venison, which comes with a refined (ie offal-free) 'haggis' of the leg meat and bacon on pearl barley in an ambrosial sauce of 16-year-old Lagavulin single malt. If it's internal organs you're after, look to the crisp-fried veal sweetbread dressed in honey and mustard, with a serving of Norfolk kohlrabi. Desserts incorporate what might be considered the local option, Notting Hill Forest – a trompe-l'oeil pile of ‘fallen leaves’ made of ceps, chocolate, pine and woodruff on nutty crémeux, in which are embedded little shards of millefeuille pastry, to give the acoustic effect of crunching through autumn leaf-litter. And then one stumbles on a prune soaked in Earl Grey tea. Dinner ends with a little tableside tasting of Irish whiskey. A magnificent wine list covers pairing options, as well as an inspired glass selection (from £12), before graduating to the great and the very great of the vinous globe.

'One of those old-school places where everything is just done right; a proper treat,’ was one reader’s verdict on Richard Corrigan’s ‘brilliant’ Mayfair flagship. Culinary aspirations are sky-high but the kitchen keeps its feet firmly on the earth, offering everything from a classic opener such as roast veal sweetbread with langoustine, peas and soda bread crumb to a pie of poulet de bresse chicken, morels and artichokes that has been deemed ‘historically good’. Furred and feathered game is always a feature in season, while Irish beef is a solid mainstay throughout the year. 

Influences from the chef’s native Ireland are melded with foraged foods and tip-top supplies from artisan producers, while a sense of clubby nostalgia permeates the place, ‘complemented by staff who clearly like to see guests having a good time.’ Lunch and dinner ‘du jour’ menus are devoid of any sense of corner-cutting, especially when the finish line is reached via a spring fruit salad or Eve’s pudding with apple and rhubarb. The wine list is vast and authoritative, opening with a changing seasonal selection and including a classy by-the-glass selection.

*Crisp Pizza is relocating to The Marlborough in Mayfair in Autumn 2025.*

Holed up within the Chancellors pub on Crisp Road (just behind Sam’s Riverside), this hugely popular pop-up stands out from the crowd because its pizzas are baked comparatively ‘low and slow’ in electric bread ovens. The texture of the crusts is everything (crisp outside but chewy within), while the toppings are mostly traditional favourites – the artisan pepperoni version with San Marzano tomatoes, fior di latte and hot honey was our pick of the bunch. Wines from the pub’s updated list go down well, and outdoor seating is a bonus in fine weather. Be prepared for long (but totally justified) queues.

Secreted within a once-grand Edwardian town hall, this major-league dining establishment packs one hell of a punch. It’s a serious, smart-looking spot – both the bar and dining room have a fabulous character and patina into which mid-century furnishings and the stylish open kitchen slot sympathetically.

Brazilian-born Rafael Cagali’s cooking has pursued an interesting trajectory – with stints at Quique Dacosta and Martín Berasategui in Spain, then the Fat Duck and Simon Rogan’s Fera and Aulis – and his background suggests a fondness for classic, ingredients-first techniques. This certainly shines through in exquisite snacks such as a tiny, friable pastry cup made with stout and filled with scallop roe, mousse and tiny diced scallop; in quail tortellini in a sparkling clear broth, alongside a skewer of quail breast with a slice of brioche topped with parfait, damson and a generous shaving of black truffle; and in wagyu sirloin with hen of the woods, lobster rice and cavolo nero.

Yet it’s the weaving in of Brazilian-influences that really set Cagali’s cooking apart. Take moqueca. It’s a traditional fish stew fiendishly reinvented by Cagali as an elegant tasting-menu dish of aged brill (on our visit) with manteiguinha (butter) beans and farofa (toasted cassava) in a frothy coconut sauce, given heft with whole biquinho teardrop chillies (fiery and fruity) that are served on the side. Or the cross-cultural slant of a baba served with Brazilian cachaça, pistachio ice cream and a generous dollop of N25 Reserve caviar. All of this comes at a price – the tasting menu is £245, the set three-course lunch £110 ­– but it is without doubt an exceptional experience from start to finish.

Much depends on front of house, a first-class team who take the east London essence and manage to transform fine dining to something fun and classy at the same time. The wine list is brilliantly curated and correspondingly expensive, although it's worth mining the sommelier's impressive and charmingly imparted knowledge to get the best from it. 

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.

Having scored a huge hit with his ultra-hip Caribbean joint Fish, Wings & Tings, globetrotting chef Brian Danclair added a second string to his Brixton Village bow in 2021. His self-styled 'Kitchen' is squeezed in among the shops and cafés of Granville Arcade and brings yet more precision and purpose to his local endeavours, with obvious nods to his Trinidadian roots and culinary travels. He also pays homage to the home cooking of his Venezuelan grandmother, whose face – as a bright, trippy mural – covers an entire wall of the buzzy dining room.

Danclair can often be seen ‘skipping between his two restaurants with a Carib beer in hand’, when he’s not frying his legendary 'cod fish fritters' or lip-puckering chicken wings – ‘tossed gloriously in chilli and glazed with sweet guava,’ according to one fan. Elsewhere, the short menu roams from ‘stew vegetables’ with French bread for soaking up the sauce to grilled pepper calamari with smoked aïoli or headily spiced empanadas (made to his grandma’s recipe and served with a pot of chimichurri).

If something more substantial is required, consider the grilled ‘catch of the day’ or flash-grilled sirloin steak. There are no desserts, but you can always get giddy with the house rum punch (pineapple and orange juice laced with copious quantities of Wray & Nephew).

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.

‘Cheap, delicious and authentic,’ is one snappy verdict on this constantly rammed, no-bookings Chinese. Queues come with the territory, long waits are inevitable and the whole experience can seem a tad perfunctory, but there’s no disputing the sheer quality of the food. Regulars praise everything from the Shanghai dumplings in soup (‘great depth of flavour’) to the BBQ roast duck, ‘beautifully cooked’ salt-and-pepper squid and a host of peasant-style regional specialities. Also try the 'dazzling' prawn wontons with house-made salad cream (a throwback to old Hong Kong). To drink? Bubble tea, perhaps. Helpings are more than generous, so expect to be well-fed.

London’s third branch of Din Tai Fung has been a long time coming. Originally scheduled to open in the landmark Centrepoint building in 2017, it was overtaken by outlets in Covent Garden and Selfridges. But the wait is finally over. Sitting on top of the Arcade Food Hall, this outpost of the international group has ditched its trademark Scandi-style interiors in favour of a big, bright, lively space (seating over 200) filled with velvety blue banquettes, marbled tabletops, and grey metallic chairs with black leather seating and flashes of gold, while floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides provide a bird's-eye view of the Tottenham Court Road area. Food-wise, popular dishes based on Huaiyang cuisine populate a menu that also includes the famous steamed soup dumplings (xiao long bao), handmade by a bevy of chefs at work in an open-to-view kitchen. Our classic pork version reinforced its long-standing reputation – each dumpling uniform in size and shape, perfectly fashioned with just the right flavours and bounce. To start, we enjoyed a moreish crispy prawn pancake as well as a crunchy oriental salad of beansprouts, tofu and vermicelli given heft with a tangy sesame oil dressing. Other highlights included noodles paired with silky pork, some prawn wontons laced with spring onions and a Szechuan chilli/garlic sauce, and a plate of young and tender stir-fried 'dou miao' pea shoots (grown in the UK and laced with garlic). To finish, warm, fluffy buns filled with salted egg-yolk custard (which oozes out when cut open) are irresistible, while red bean paste is also used to good effect as a filling for warm, soft buns and sweet versions of xiao long bao. Drink cocktails, beer, sake or wines (from £28).

Having learned their trade at Nobu, Tomonari Chiba and Keiji Fuku opened Dinings in 2006 on a quiet residential thoroughfare not far from Baker Street. Little changes. The restaurant itself, crammed into a bijou Georgian terraced house, has a dinky sushi bar at street-level and a handful of tables in the basement. Concentrate on the tapas-sized sharing plates that deliver a clever cocktail of oriental flavours. While the cooking is nominally Japanese, pan-Asian fusion is never far away – as in a mini taco filled with delicious tuna tartare, or sizzling scallops with yuzu, chilli and soy. Sushi and sashimi are delicately prepared – and, occasionally, given a contemporary lift (think sea bass sushi topped with umeboshi purée and tosazu jelly). However, the kitchen understands the intricate techniques and subtle touches involved – especially when it comes to preparing the generally excellent sushi rice. Less familiar dishes such as aubergine nasu miso – strikingly replete with umami – and a splendid grilled o-toro mini donburi (rice bowl) are convincing proof that Japanese food isn't all about ethereal delicacy. The food arrives as and when, while a comprehensive selection of sake is the standout on the drinks list.

Cosy, intimate and a ‘true home from home,’ there aren't many settings more desirable than this. Tucked at one end of an exclusive mews, Dinings sports a lovely courtyard for alfresco meals, plus a bright high-ceilinged dining room with a mezzanine, a bar at the front, a wooden fireplace at the far end, a marble sushi counter, and small wooden tables with tan-leather seating. The atmosphere is lively, and it's topped off by chef/owner Masaki Sugisaki's innovative bite-sized Japanese dishes, which offer ‘an exquisite fusion of artistry and gastronomy,’ according to one devotee.

‘Meticulously crafted’ sushi takes pride of place here, and fans insist that it’s some of the best in town – from Cornish sea bass with bottarga or cured yellowtail belly with preserved spiced yuzu zest to first-rate hand-rolls such as smoked eel tamaki with cucumber and sweet soy. Elsewhere, dry-aged turbot is served on the bone with ceps, violet artichokes and preserved lemon while ‘shio-koji’ cured venison loin (from Windsor Forest) is embellished with glazed fig and red pepper ketchup.

As expected with an SW3 postcode, the menu is pimped up with deluxe ingredients – from a mini-burger of wagyu beef cleverly paired with teriyaki and spicy sesame aïoli to grilled Scottish langoustines with confit garlic and preserved lemon vinaigrette. Less pricey items such as roasted beetroot with tahini miso are also treated with due respect. Matcha ganache with chestnut ice cream is an enticing way to finish. Service is super-friendly and bursting with ‘genuine warmth’, while sake heads the expensive drinks list, with wines from £55.

To mark its 10th birthday in 2020, the original branch of Dishoom in Covent Garden underwent a dramatic refurb. The decor still pays homage to old Bombay’s Irani cafés (whirring ceiling fans, sepia photographs, vintage artefacts, Art Deco trimmings) but the new look now makes reference to the city’s cinematic heritage from Parsi theatre and silent movies to the all-singing, all-dancing glitz of the talkies. Apart from that, it’s business as usual for the hordes who continue to queue and pile in for a lively all-day menu of reimagined Indian favourites. Roll up early for one of the famous bacon naan rolls or a plate of kejriwal (fried eggs on chilli cheese toast) or get sociable later on by sharing a host different dishes. Street-food snacks and grills such as Dishoom’s murgh malai, pineapple tikka and spicy lamb chops line up beside various ‘Ruby Murrays’, slow-cooked biryanis (try the chicken Britannia), black dhal and the house special – ‘auntie’s recipe for the very best masala fish’, griddled in a banana leaf and served with coconut chaas. For afters, dive into a sweet, cooling ‘mess’ of fresh cream, crushed meringue and strawberries perfumed with rose syrup and gulkhand (rose-petal conserve). To drink, there’s a fascinating array of coolers, esoteric beers, wines and cocktails with colonial overtones.

Housed in part of what was the Barkers department store of blessed memory, the Kensington outpost of the Dishoom group is an elegant, Art Deco room with booth seating that could almost be a railway station buffet of yesteryear, complete with a giant clock. On Thursday and Friday evenings, a resident jazz band, the Marine Liners, contributes to the nostalgic feel, while the menus perform agile variations on Indian all-day eating.

There are Bombay breakfasts for the rise-and-shiners (try a Parsi omelette or a bacon naan roll), plus small plates for the grazers – lamb samosas, chicken and mango salad, chilli cheese toast, hot potato vada buns – and a repertoire of main dishes given enjoyably florid menu descriptions. Jackfruit biryani, mutton pepper fry, Goan monkfish curry and tandoori lamb chops finished with lime and masala are among the attractions. Vegan menus are of course butter-free, and full of invention, right through to basmati rice pudding with coconut milk, cardamom and cashews.

Alternatively, simply drop by for that old-time Bombay classic – a buttery bun with a cup of spicy chai. First-class cocktails and everyday wines (from £29 a bottle) sit alongside lassis and coolers to wet the whistle.

The grime and dilapidation surrounding King’s Cross is long gone. Though the canal still snakes through, the old warehouses have been re-purposed with eating, drinking and shopping now the business in hand. A former Victorian transit shed is home to Dishoom, one of an ever-expanding group of livewire Indian eateries inspired by the classless Irani cafés of old Bombay (now Mumbai). If the history is lost on you, the atmospheric decor and sepia photos on the walls will provide context, while the hubbub of the place is sure to get you in the mood.

The place opens early, and if you're not yet acquainted with their bacon naan rolls or Parsi omelettes, you'll be wondering how you managed to get breakfast so wrong all these years. Bookings are only taken for groups of six or more in the evening, so rock up and be lucky (with some 300 covers, it's a capacious spot). The all-day menu has vivid descriptions of each dish – the gunpowder potatoes are smoky-grilled and flavoured with crushed aromatic seeds and green herbs, for example.

Spicing is firm and fair, and everything from small plates (lamb samosas, pau bhaji) to grills (spicy lamb chops, masala prawns etc) and rich, silky curries hits the mark. There's a fabulous Indian spin on the drinks list too, with the likes of India Gimlet and a 1948 Sour on offer. Wines open at £29, and the generous range of beers includes their own house IPA.

'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.

In 2022, Chris D’Sylva, supplier to a number of respected restaurants in the capital, assembled an elite team from The Wolseley, Noble Rot and Core by Clare Smyth to create one of London's more distinctive (and talked about) eateries. With chef Max Coen (ex-Ikoyi et al) at the helm, Dorian opened as a modern-day British bistro with attitude, proclaiming itself to be ‘a neighbourhood joint for those that suck the marrow out of life’. The atmosphere is cool and lively, the style unassuming – think exposed ventilation ducts, an open-plan kitchen with counter seating, wine cabinets, black-and-white tiled flooring, British 'racing green' banquettes, wooden chairs and close-packed, linen-clothed tables. Every dish on the menu sounds instantly appealing, which can make choosing tricky. We kicked off with moreish, sweet white crabmeat set on a crisp pan-fried potato rösti, ahead of a 'squidgy' veal sweetbread paired with radicchio and topped with a purée of grilled onion – both excellent in their own right. However, the undoubted star turn was a tranche of sea bass served with grilled corn, razor clams and a saffron fish sauce – a technically brilliant dish, and highly pleasurable too. To conclude. a 'devilfish’ choux bun with a crown of nuts oozing with chocolate and cream showed that there is a sense of quiet confidence and swagger to the entire operation – helped along by a slick team. Unpicking the wine list throws up exciting choices from France and Italy, including stellar labels and older vintages. There are some affordable bottles and by-the-glass selections (from £9) but the majority are over three figures.

In a stylish, warm-toned space on the ground floor of 1 Hotel Mayfair (one of the latest in London’s luxury constellation), Tom Sellers and his executive chef Tom Anglesea set about updating the European classics. It’s a continuation of a theme that began at Story Cellar in Covent Garden – though, this being Mayfair, the menu is priced for people who have no need to look at prices. There are no gimmicks, the cooking is sound and provenance is high on the priority list – perhaps Somerset Saxon chicken (with a bourguignon garnish and creamed potatoes, for the whole table to share) or fallow deer from Oxfordshire's Lockinge Estate (served as a rack, sausage and pie, with Tokyo turnips and elderberry). We began with a tepid (rather than the advertised 'warm') tart of mushrooms in a delicate rye custard – a welcome hint of acidity coming from a few pickled mushrooms concealed within – while faultlessly steamed Dover sole fillets, teamed with a light scallop mousse, cauliflower, grapes and tarragon was a delicious take on sole véronique. On another occasion, we enjoyed a wonderfully meaty John Dory 'chop' with smoky hints from the Josper grill, smothered in a punchy Café de Paris butter with plenty of warm spicing. To finish, classic soufflés, French opera cake or a delicate pear and frangipane tart are the highlights. The final tally is almost unavoidably high, not helped by an extensive wine list that is soberingly expensive. Take our tip and give the sommelier a budget if you want to get the best out of it.

Since teaming up in the late noughties, chef Phil Howard and restaurateur Rebecca Mascarenhas have rolled out a series of sophisticated yet informal neighbourhood eateries – and Elystan Street follows their blueprint to the letter. The mood is one of unbuttoned luxury, Chelsea style, with pared-back interiors, large monochrome prints, a mix of peach and grey seating and lots of natural light flooding in through large windows. ‘Hospitality’ is one of the keys to the success of this place, notes a reader – although locals are here to sample the kitchen’s masterful and cleverly nuanced modern food. Expect ‘seasonal dishes cooked with skill and precision’, overlaid with a perfect sense of balance and a true respect for ingredients. Highlights from one recent visit included ‘moreish’ hand-cut strozzapreti cooked in buttery chicken stock with a dressing of summer truffles and aged Parmesan, as well as a 'lovely looking' plate of sea bream, with perfectly crispy skin and a colourfully exotic mélange of baba ganoush, apricot harissa, a charred Padrón pepper and a drizzle of basil-infused olive oil. If meat is your preference, there might be tartare of English rose veal ahead of saddle of lamb served in sunny Mediterranean style with pesto-baked aubergine, roasted San Marzano tomatoes, garlic and balsamic. British and French cheeses are kept in tiptop condition, while ‘classy’ desserts might bring a millefeuille of raspberries with vanilla and lemon verbena cream – ‘a summer treat’. Ever-attentive staff spend ‘quality time with their guests’, which adds to the relaxed, informal vibe. Lunch is good value for the postcode, and the knowledgeably assembled wine list leans heavily towards Europe, with around 20 by-the-glass selections and bottles from £35.

In recent months, a number of restaurant openings have put the spotlight on Notting Hill as a broadly based foodie destination. Empire Empire, from Harneet Baweja of the Gunpowder group, is one of them. Inspired by India’s 1970s disco scene, it’s a cosy dining space with an old-school look rather than Bollywood-style overkill: think coloured tiled flooring, dark wood furnishings, oval-shaped lighting and white tablecloths. In addition, there's a jukebox and a photo booth, while vintage album covers of Indian disco performers and artwork by leading artists, Jorgensen Chowdhury and Rabin Mondal, adorn the whitewashed walls. Infectious Indian disco tunes provide fun and energy and the whole place is run in a relaxed and amiable manner. The food focuses on northwest India and the Punjab, with nashta (snacks) and starters, kebabs and tikkas, biryanis and curries. We enjoyed moreish deep-fried golden-brown fish and prawn Amritsari pakoras, and the charcoal grill was put to good use for a tender bihari ribeye beef kebab. Flavours are big and rich with spice – witness a gamey sag gosht and a bhindi dopiaza packed with tomatoes and onion. The naan bread, fresh from the oven, is irresistible, while sweet and spongy gulab jamun with ice cream figures among the desserts. To drink, cocktails and beers line up alongside a concise list of natural wines.

Arguably the best croissants in London (if not the UK) are on offer at Eric’s – a local bakery run by ex-Flor supremo Helen Evans. Inside, it has a level of refinement that most of its rivals simply cannot match: carefully chosen interiors and an intentionally gentler style of service create what one visitor called 'an elevated experience'. Those croissants get their unmatched depth of flavour from a mixture of meticulously sourced wholemeal and emmer flour, but everything excels here: savouries include a rich, tangy and devilishly moreish aubergine and fermented fava bean swirl, while sweet inducements range from exemplary pain au chocolat to cinnamon buns. Eric's only serves filter coffee, but that’s just fine by us.

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.

It’s the whole cod’s head, drenched in sriracha butter, that brings us face to face with the truth: the pursuit of sustainability is going to change the way chefs cook and we eat. Leading the charge are Jack Croft and Will Murray, two young chefs who honed their skills at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal before opening Fallow, originally a pop-up, now a fixture in St James’s. ‘Creative cooking, sustainable thinking’ goes the strapline, and that’s certainly what we get. The menu is broad, incorporating small and large plates, sides, snacks, steaks (45-day dry-aged dairy cow) and Sunday roasts (fallow deer, for example). The £38 lunch is a good deal, though sides and supplements soon bump up the bill. Two snacks to start: piping hot, liquid-centred cauliflower cheese croquetas with black garlic mayo, and fried corn ribs dusted with kombu seasoning, best enjoyed with a drink. Mushroom parfait, sounds pricey at £18, but with hefty slices of sourdough toast it’s generous and as rich as any chicken liver parfait. Impressively, the mushrooms are grown in-house. Presentation throughout is rustic, bordering on eccentric. To wit, that cod’s head, concealing plentiful beautiful moist flesh. Credit to Fallow for the focus on nose-to-tail eating, even if the lamb’s tongue with caper sauce proves divisive. Desserts are interesting and mostly impressive, such as sourdough soft-serve and a wobbly caramelised whey tart which just wanted finer pastry. Fallow is progressive but approachable: the glass-walled dining room with bar and open kitchen is boisterous and packed with folk of all ages. The casual vibe belies the ambition of the wine cellar, which offers few bottles under £50 and some 'grands noms' for those with the means.

Agatha Christie can lay claim to being Wallingford’s most famous resident, and one of her novels provides the name for this attractive bar-cum-restaurant run by three locals. The place has garnered a strong following since it opened, with reporters praising the owners’ commitment to the community and sustainable food practices. The kitchen’s repertoire is founded on judiciously sourced produce, right down to the bread from Lawlor’s bakery in Henley-on-Thames (accompanied by ‘green butter’) and the petits fours served with coffee from Oxfordshire roasters, Missing Bean.

Smaller plates show the kitchen’s enterprising intent, from kohlrabi croquettes with pickled carrot and coriander yoghurt to haggis Scotch eggs and top-notch fishcakes of chalk stream trout ingeniously paired with pickled seaweed and silky smoked eel mayo. Likewise, the choice of larger plates on the all-day menu pulls in influences from near and far – perhaps pork belly with parsley salsa, butter beans and winter greens or pavé of local rump steak matched with Cotswold Blue cheese and triple-cooked chips. Fish comes up from the West Country, so expect anything from whole Brixham plaice with clams to Cornish skate wing accompanied by blood-orange and fennel salsa, plus a serving of cavolo nero.

On Saturday and Sundays, the main event is brunch (bottomless if you wish) – think toasties, muffins, spiced pumpkin pancakes and sugar-glazed bacon chops with fried bread and eggs, plus shots of wild garlic Bloody Mary on the side. The owners created Wallingford gin, and it has pride of place on the drinks list alongside Oxfordshire ales, seasonal cocktails and English wines from the nearby Hundred Hills vineyard.  

Hidden down a cobbled mews close to Russell Square, this bakery and café is conveniently located for visitors to Great Ormond Street, the Brunswick Centre and the British Museum – though you might have to compete with in-the-know locals for the creative sourdough baking. Interiors are modest but attractive, and it's hard to beat a bench seat outside on a sunny day, with a sticky bun in hand. Other highlights from the menu range from fat, flaky sausage rolls and brioche bostock with brown butter to beignets with chocolate, cardamom and clementine cream.

* The restaurant has closed as of February 2025. The two Forza Wine sites (in Peckham and at the National Theatre) continue to trade as normal. *

Back to life after its previous iteration (in a Peckham warehouse) was cancelled by the first lockdown, Forza Win (without an 'e') is an utterly comfortable and welcoming spirit-reviver in its own right. If you don't feel good about focused Italian flavours, Sicilian wine on tap or cool-but-kindly service, better check your pulse. Behind peachy arches overlooking Camberwell Church Street, the kitchen wears its technique with ease; for every serving of breezy spaghetti with clams and mussels, there's a bowl of fluffy Florentine topini with the intensity of mushroom stock and morels, or a masterfully breaded and fried lamb cutlet draped with anchovy fillets and served with chunky salsa verde. The selection of four secondi might range from a summery green vignarola (Roman vegetable stew) to a piece of pork belly sliding gently into its accompanying chickpeas with San Marzano tomatoes and capers. Such a satisfyingly compact menu will always be seasonal, although the house 'custardo' is non-negotiable – an affogato made with custard rather than ice cream. For more heft, the chocolate and apricot cake (shades of Sachertorte) or a blowsy take on tiramisu both deliver.

After years of pop-ups, this Italian-inspired restaurant group is firmly established south of the river with a permanent spot in Peckham (Forza Wine). Now its most ambitious project to date is to be found on the second floor of The National Theatre. The concrete, wood and glass 160-seater is the place to pop in for drinks – Forza’s special cherry Negroni leads the cocktail charge and there’s an interesting list of approachable, modern European wines including plenty by the glass.

 From the kitchen comes a compact, seasonally aware list of Italian-style small plates to share. To begin, we enjoyed a generous serving of cauliflower fritti with aïoli, as well as a satisfying plate of potato, pancetta and porcini mushrooms. As dishes arrive when they are ready, we happily discovered that roasted Delica pumpkin set atop a pool of creamy pearl barley and sage worked really well with pink, well-flavoured slices of lamb shoulder, celeriac and salsa verde. Each of these items was simply executed and tasted deliciously of its excellent well-sourced ingredients, although not everything we sampled passed muster.

However, there was nothing awry about our milk soft serve with roasted apple and a topping of candied walnut; the famed ‘Custardo’ – an affogato made with custard – is not to be missed, either. While on-the-ball staff check if you are dining pre-theatre, such is Forza’s following that few people depart when the final call sounds for the Lyttelton Theatre one floor down – the atmosphere remains lively. It's also worth checking out the pleasant, partially covered terrace looking onto the river and Waterloo Bridge.

Adam Handling’s Covent Garden flagship is a crowd-pulling destination full of noise and action, with an organised open kitchen serving up what the man himself calls ‘British food, inspired by London’. Bare tables, hard floors and counter seating are par for the course, while the culinary focus is now on a 10-course tasting menu that aims to take the chef’s zero-waste, ‘sustainability agenda’ to the next level. Proceedings begin with a series of precise, flavour-heavy snacks, ranging from an oyster tartlet abundant with caviar and tempered by cucumber in various guises to a wagyu beef tartare that arrives inside crisp pastry shells, daintily garlanded with flowers. Although most ideas are newly minted, Handling’s signature ‘bread with chicken butter’ remains. After that, there might be a dish of flaky cod (‘with just a suggestion of the sea’), accompanied by a lemongrass foam, celeriac purée, a tapioca cracker and green herb oil. Oddly, the same condiment reappears yet again in a dish of supremely good wagyu beef served with a 'welcome dose of greenery', a blob of English wasabi and a bordelaise-style sauce. The full experience is interspersed with the usual savoury and sweet interludes (including a palate-cleanser involving ice-cold cherry tomatoes sitting beneath a green tomato granita). Dessert itself might be a 'tellingly sound' piece of pastrywork combining white chocolate, pandan and strawberry. Readers have been bowled over by it all (‘course after course of perfection’), while we agree, some dishes are confusing, and the excessive use of herb oil isn’t to our liking. That said, there’s no denying the buzz of the place or the attentivenss of the staff, while the drinks list offers heady cocktails alongside a global wine (and sake) selection that divides up into categories such as ‘quintessential’, ‘esoteric’ and ‘maverick’.

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.

An adjunct to the horticulturally enticing Garden Museum in the deconsecrated church of St Mary-at-Lambeth, this appealing, Scandi-style eatery has become something of a destination hereabouts. Part of the attraction is its shaded courtyard garden – a verdant oasis of calm and civility, even when it's jam-packed. Staff are sweet, helpful and as friendly as can be, although we noticed quite a few missteps when we visited (admittedly on one of the hottest, busiest days of the year). Lunch is the main event and the short menu is ‘bang on season’, promising dishes that are straightforward and big on flavour – as in a delightfully fresh plate of marinated chard with stracciatella and pangrattato. European ideas dominate, although the chef drops in a few doughty British classics too (venison mince with swede and horseradish, say). A bowl of ajo blanco was spot-on for the weather, while a piece of perfectly timed brill on the bone needed only some crispy potatoes and a spoonful of herb butter. Top pick? A deliciously comforting but oh-so-simple dish of ricotta gnocchi and datterini tomatoes drizzled with olive oil. To finish, expect anything from chocolate semifreddo to baked custard with plums, depending on the season. The drinks list is equally short and sweet with juices, cordials and beers alongside some low-intervention wines. While the Garden Café is primarily a daytime spot (coffee and cake are available either side of lunch), they also serve evening meals on Tuesdays and Fridays.

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.

‘A celebratory and inspiring environment offering a little bit of escapism in the heart of Oxford,’ is one reader’s verdict on this long-standing beau monde favourite, which now boasts a heated garden terrace and an adjacent art gallery/private dining space (handy for wedding bashes). The essence of Gees, though, has always been its beautiful conservatory restaurant, converted from a greengrocer’s in 1985 and still under the same ownership.

Globe lights dangle from the glass roof, while black-and-white tiled flooring and a convivial crowd of youngish locals add to the brasserie vibe – as does the catch-all Med-inspired menu. Crisp, thin-based pizzette with regularly changing toppings (including an inspired pairing of Taleggio with potatoes and thyme) are equally good as a first course or as a snack with drinks; alternatively, start with harissa-roasted squash, chickpeas and feta. Moving on, ‘today’s fish’ could be a little fillet of fresh mackerel matched with a wonderfully punchy anchovy and tomato salsa; otherwise, dip into the selection of pastas – perhaps rigatoni with duck ragù and pecorino. Sides such as tenderstem broccoli with chimichurri provide the greenery, yet also bump up an already sizeable bill.

To finish, desserts such as chocolate nemesis and crema catalana maintain the broadly Med theme, likewise unhurried Sunday roasts such as porchetta with chorizo-roast potatoes, carrots and courgettes. However, Gees' main attraction is its happy hubbub, helped along by agreeable young staff and a drinks list comprising cocktails and a 30-strong selection of wines with southern Europe as the main player.

At heart, tiny Giulia is a neighbourhood restaurant, one where Endris Kerbizi’s bold, assured Italian cooking draws back locals again and again. A passion for quality runs through every aspect of the place, and the menu embodies the capital's take on Italy – a pared-back aesthetic, a short, regularly changing repertoire and a light, contemporary touch. ‘Never had a duff dish,' just about sums it up.

Seared octopus with cauliflower, creamy potato and 'nduja sauce is a never-off-the-menu must-order, but in season the baked courgette flower filled with ricotta and served with a courgette salad is not to be missed. To follow, there’s plenty of love for the veal cotoletta alla milanese, while the roast lamb rack with braised shoulder, peas and asparagus is reckoned to be as good as anything in London. And if you're craving some handmade pasta, the seafood paccheri is a standout.

Focaccia and gelato (both made in-house) have been praised, while one fan insists that 'they have the best tiramisu I have ever tasted (and I’m Italian)’. However, we have a soft spot for the lemon tart with caramelised apricot. Giulia Quaglia heads the small front of house team, a ‘smiling, friendly presence’ who always finds time to chat and talk food. To drink, there are some classic cocktails and a short list of affordable all-Italian wines.

Step inside this unashamedly luxe Chinese restaurant not far from Trafalgar Square and you’ll be swept away by the sheer class of the place. Sleek and sharp, the spacious dining room is decorated with curvaceous velvet banquettes and black leather booths, with lots of dark wood, exquisite artworks, floral arrangements and elegant pendant lights hanging from the high ceiling. Special tables and private rooms are discreetly curtained off from the main dining area. The mood is blissfully calm. Taking its name from the superfood goji berry, Gouqi is a return to form for Tong Chee Hwee – best known as executive head chef of the Hakkasan group. Those who have eaten his food in the past will feel right at home here, as the menu revels in reworked Cantonese classics and crossover ideas fashioned from the most luxurious ingredients. A line-up of beautiful dim sum puts down a marker, delivering exquisite tastes and textures across the board: eel cheung fun (silky and crispy); Ibérico char siu buns (meaty and fluffy); sticky, savoury rice wrapped in a lotus leaf with chicken and shiitake mushrooms, and (best of all) one of the chef’s greatest Hakkasan hits – gloriously gamey charcoal venison puffs. Delve into the carte and you’ll find delectable specialities that match prime produce with classy cooking. Superlative seafood shines through in everything from stir-fried scallops with asparagus and curly kale to Scottish diver-caught razor clams ramped up with glass noodles, chilli and garlic, while meat dishes are star turns all the way – think honey-glazed Ibérico pork with salted egg yolk or an A4 wagyu roll in golden hot-and-sour soup. Top spot, however, goes to the impressively glossy, lacquered Beijing duck, which is ‘right on the money’, carved tableside and served in stages. Impeccable staff also deserve a special mention for their smooth, unobtrusive service. Prestige labels and daunting mark-ups define the international wine list, although two dozen are offered by the glass.

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).

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. 

Originally inspired by colonial India’s Days of the Raj polo clubs, this thoroughbred from the JKS group (Trishna, Hoppers etc) is a classy Mayfair package spread over two levels connected by a mirrored staircase. Most of the action takes place in the ground-floor dining room and bar, with its richly upholstered leather seating, whirring ceiling fans, old prints and stag’s heads – not forgetting hunting trophies from the Maharaja of Jodhpur.

The menu shines the spotlight on grills, game and chops, all given a thrilling contemporary spin to match the gussied-up surroundings – from Goan-style salmon tikka with tomato chutney to guinea fowl pepper fry served with a Malabar paratha or tandoori lamb chops unexpectedly pointed up with walnut chutney. Elsewhere, pork cheek vindaloo and a wild muntjac biryani sound inviting, while fans of rogan josh and chicken butter masala also have plenty to cheer about. For something more esoteric, home in on the assortment of ‘nashta’ small plates, perhaps minced kid goat methi keema with pao bread or duck-egg bhurji scrambled with lobster and served alongside a Malabar paratha. Desserts (meetha) continue the mashed-up crossover theme, as in a take on tiramisu involving rasgulla (a syrupy, sponge-like Asian classic) or a Basmati rice pudding (kheer) spiced with cardamom and accompanied by mango sorbet.

The standalone bar dispenses cocktails and reinvented punches, alongside nibbles of Amritsari shrimps or Punjabi samosas with sweet/sour tamarind-spiked 'saunth' chutney. Otherwise, specially brewed 4th Rifles Pale Ale and a compendium of thoughtfully selected wines (including some English sparklers) suit the food admirably.

There had been high-end Chinese eateries in London before visionary restaurateur Alan Yau launched Hakkasan in 2001 but none that had made the concept approachably aspirational rather than simply offering dining rooms for the rich. This 2010 sequel keeps all that was ground-breaking about the Tottenham Court Road original but in a Mayfair location that seems a better fit for the high-octane glamour of it all. A mirror hanging above the staircase to the basement dining room emphasises that this is a restaurant where appearances are at a premium and, from the carved oriental screens and spot-lit tables to the scarily good-looking staff, Hakkasan Mayfair is not somewhere to slum it. Then again, this is food to dress up for. The Anglo-Chinese favourites can be pimped up with luxury produce – the Peking duck comes with the optional addition of beluga caviar – but all the ingredients here are top-notch (as indeed they should be at these prices) and the quality of cooking is unfailingly high. The pork ribs are smoked with jasmine tea, the Singapore noodles adorned with jumbo-sized prawns (rather than the usual sad specimens), soft-shell crab, squid and Dover sole are gently encased in the lightest of batters, while perfectly timed pak choi zings with fresh ginger. Balance is a hallmark of the Hakkasan kitchen, whether the genuinely sweet-and-sour Duke of Berkshire pork (a best-in-class rendition of the clichéd dish), the hot-and-sour crispy freshwater prawns with chillies and cashews (an update of the classic kung po), or the sharp and rich slow-roasted ibérico pork char siu coated with black garlic glaze, mustard dressing and pickled daikon. Wines from the style-led list will at least double the bill, while other drawbacks to dining here include tightly packed tables that allow easy eavesdropping and a throbbing soundtrack that would not be out of place in a nightclub. Natural light makes the ground-floor dining room-cum-lounge bar feel less claustrophobic, not least for daytime dim sum that is some of the best in London. But for special occasions – or any time you just want to feel special – Hakkasan Mayfair fits the sizeable bill.

Brett Graham (The Ledbury) and Mike Robinson (game specialist) opened the Harwood Arms on a quiet residential street near Fulham Broadway in 2009, and the kitchen shows a long-running commitment to prime British produce, delivering a concise seasonal menu of four choices at each course – an extremely likeable line-up of reinvented classics we would be happy to eat on a regular basis. It seemed only fitting to kick off with the dish most associated with this pub – a punchy, golden-brown venison Scotch egg accompanied by Oxford sauce, much copied but rarely bettered. This was followed by a superb warm pumpkin tart topped with Quicke’s goat’s cheese, which worked well with a mushroom purée. Complete technique was on show in a dish of excellent Berkshire fallow deer served with a faggot, red leaves and cranberries, as well as in Cornish monkfish (on the bone) topped with brown shrimps and accompanied by roasted cauliflower, tenderstem broccoli and brown crab butter. The accompanying deep-fried new potatoes with garlic butter had us nodding with pleasure. Desserts are convincingly puddingy and feel absolutely right for the setting – from a perfect custard flan with caramel and spiced plum ice cream to a pineapple upside-down cake with malted treacle and crème-fraîche ice cream. The dining area is a low-key space decked out with dark green wood panelling, a proudly displayed stag's head and generously spaced tables (with cutlery kept in a brown-leather gamekeeper's holster). The vibe is relaxed and service is friendly without being overly chatty. To drink, there is quality across the price-spectrum, from a selection of 21 wines by the glass (from £7) to high-calibre representation from Burgundy (including top producer, Domaine Ramonet) as well as Bordeaux's Left Bank.

Occupying the shell of a 19th-century hops and fruit warehouse in the grounds of what was once the Bishop of Winchester’s great palace, this branch of the all-conquering Hawksmoor chain is also temptingly close to the myriad foodie delights of Borough Market. Spread over two floors (with a private dining room in the basement), it follows the brand’s blueprint to the letter. Expect leather-flecked surrounds with acres of wood panelling, parquet floors, comfy chairs and frosted-glass partitions.

As for the menu, best-in-show grass-fed British beef is the name of the game, with individual cuts priced by weight – take your pick from bone-in prime ribs, sirloins, rumps, fillets and the like. There’s some seafood too (chargrilled monkfish, whole native lobster with garlic butter) plus ricotta dumplings for the vegetarians. Open your account with, say, Old Spot belly ribs and vinegar slaw, potted beef or Caesar salad; round off with something sweet and calorific – perhaps sticky toffee sundae or peanut butter shortbread.

Sunday roasts bring superlative roast beef, aged for 35 days, carved from a whole rump and served with some of the best bone-marrow gravy in town. Hawksmoor burgers and an express menu please the daytime crowd, while the superlative drinks list satisfies everyone with its roster of beefy red wines, craft beers, moreish cocktails and 'sharpeners' such as Le Crunch (Somerset cider brandy, Normandy apple aperitif and Champagne). All of which fuels the venue’s already rollicking atmosphere.

Its legendary power breakfasts may be off the menu (temporarily, we hope), but this cavernous branch of the Hawksmoor steakhouse chain still cuts the mustard in the City. Occupying a sprawling wood-panelled and leather-clad basement deep in the Square Mile, it remains a sizzling advert for slabs of well-aged, British-reared beef: porterhouse whoppers, bone-in prime ribs, ribeyes and other sought-after cuts are priced by weight, chargrilled to order and served with a choice of sauces, sides and unmissable accompaniments such as triple-cooked chips, fried eggs, grilled bone marrow and macaroni cheese.

But that’s not all: Dartmouth lobsters, chargrilled monkfish and herb-fed chicken with béarnaise sauce are also there to be devoured. Starters of Devon crab on toast, pork belly ribs with vinegar slaw or Evesham asparagus with hollandaise sauce strike a seasonal note, while puddings pile on the calories – especially if you opt for sticky toffee pudding with clotted cream or peanut butter shortbread accompanied by salted-caramel ice cream.

Hawksmoor is also justly renowned for its superlative Sundays roasts, when a whole rump of 35-day aged beef is slow-cooked on charcoal then finished ion the oven, before being served with some classic accompaniments – readers love the ‘voluminous’ Yorkshire pud, perfect beef-dripping roast potatoes and rich bone marrow and onion gravy. To drink, there are excellent beers and a fabulous cocktail selection, as well as a list of bold meat-loving wines rising relentlessly to stratospheric four-figure heights.

If you take your steaks seriously, you'll likely know about Hawksmoor, the group that started in London, expanded to various UK cities and is now a success story across the pond in New York and Chicago. This Knightsbridge address, just off the Brompton Road artery, is a big old space with a moody Art Deco finish that looks the part for a high-end steakhouse where prices are steep (especially for those with big appetites) and chips of various kinds are extra.

The menu includes an illustration revealing where each cut of beef comes from on the animal – from ribeye to D-rump – and blackboards display what's on offer by weight on the day (1kg T-bone anyone?). The beef itself is from British farms, grass-fed, dry-aged and cooked over coals, but there are other options if you're so inclined such as South Coast monkfish flamed over those hot coals, and one veggie main course (ricotta dumplings with peas, broad beans and asparagus, maybe). Fresh British seafood is well represented among starters: half a Dartmouth lobster with garlic butter, Shetland mussels cooked in white wine, charcoal-roasted scallops and so on.

Hawksmoor's highly rated Sunday lunch is as classically appealing as you might hope for (complete with perfectly timed, succulent meat carved from a whole rump of aged beef), while desserts might range from sticky toffee pud to yoghurt and lemon cheesecake. The wine list will appeal to high rollers with its selection of fine vintages, although there are slim pickings below £40 for the rest of us. 

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.

Will Beckett and Huw Gott launched the first of their British steakhouses on a shoestring in Spitalfields in 2006. Since then, they’ve kept on expanding, even venturing as far afield as Chicago and New York Talk about coals to Newcastle! Their latest London opening, in a steel and glass pavilion on the water in Docklands may look like it's zoomed in from the future, but inside all is reassuringly ‘Hawksmoor’ (dark wood, green leather, staff in civvies).

The beef’s the thing: grass-fed, dry-aged, and handled with care; the larger cuts of T-bones and prime rib quickly disappear from the specials board. By way of accompaniment, the triple-cooked chips, Tunworth cheese mash, and anchovy hollandaise should come with a defibrillator. Alternatives to meat include a mass of charred romanesco with Graceburn cheese, peanuts and chilli that isn’t likely to convert their carnivore clientele; however, lobster with garlic butter and oysters with Scotch bonnet mignonette have a shot.

Hawksmoor's Sunday roast is also a feast not to be missed, built around a slow-roast rump of aged beef served with an assortment of classic accompaniments including lashings of bone-marrow and onion gravy (happily replenished). The wine list excels by the glass, and keeps bottles largely under a ton (small potatoes round these parts). Below decks, the 120-seat Lowback Bar delivers cocktails, music, po’boys, snacks and burgers. Fun.

Despite the gushing water feature on Carlos Place, the Connaught remains a redoubt of hotel tradition, still at the centre of a turbulent West End. Its principal dining room has been under the aegis of Hélène Darroze for 14 years now, undergoing cosmetic surgery in 2019 to turn it from something that still felt like a gentlemen's club to a lighter, more appealing space with tan leather banquettes and subdued illumination. Numerous staff patrol the territory with impeccable precision, smart as soldiers and twice as friendly, contributing to the sense of occasion that the seasonally shifting menus promise. There is just enough variation to permit some choosing: pairs of options at some stages (though one always has a supplement), a sliding scale for the overall number of courses. Wine flights also ascend through the financial levels, from here on earth to ya-ya. If there was occasionally a feeling in the past that the fit wasn't quite comfortable – like those new shoes that pinch a little – the transformation in recent years has been remarkable. Darroze is at the top of her game, offering dishes that astonish with their complexity and stirring depth of flavour. Paimpol coco beans and smoked eel, seasoned with Nepalese timut pepper and bathed in clam consommé, was a magnificent opening statement on the 'Taste of Autumn' menu, followed by ceps in pasta cups with a snail, some guanciale and roasted cobnuts. A dish lid is whisked away to engulf the diner in the aromas of burnt hay, the basis of a foaming sauce for a piece of lobster tail, with two superb condiments – a sweet-and-sour gel and vivid green tarragon purée. The main event might be Rhug lamb dressed in ras el hanout with apricot and spelt. Less spectacular, but still good, was the breast of guinea fowl stuffed with duck liver and accompanied by braised Roscoff onion. A pre-dessert of peach with nasturtiums then paves the way for, perhaps, Mekonga chocolate in buckwheat tea or the signature baba, doused in one of Darroze's bespoke vintage Armagnacs, with raspberries and peppered crème fraîche. There has sometimes been a feeling that the grand hotels have lost a little ground in the rip-tide of contemporary cooking that has overtaken the capital. Not here. This is a kitchen in turbo-charge.

A hide is where ornithologists conceal themselves to watch the birdlife, and up on the first floor at Ollie Dabbous' Mayfair bolthole, lucky diners have a panoramic view over the expanses of Green Park. In a room done out in neutral tones of sand and stone, the welcome clatter of the Champagne trolley rattling over the wood floor banishes any hint of hush. Menus are a mix of the tasting format and a three-course carte, where caviar variations have their own section. Dabbous' dishes are stamped with the author's personality, with imagination and technical innovation on pyrotechnical display. A first course that matches Tropea onion and Graceburn cheese with textural spins on canteloupe melon is a multi-layered revelation. Lobster is treated royally, the exemplary tender meat offset with a bisque-flavoured purée, pickled fennel and its pollen, plus a sensational beurre blanc cut with curry oil. Monkfish with sweetcorn, sea herbs and truffle makes a fragrant proposition, the fish perhaps having had a couple of minutes too long, but veal sweetbreads are as gently rich as is proper, with plenty of greens and an aromatic sauce of coffee beans. Desserts are positively baffling, seeming clumsy in construction and with a post-ironic hint of Fanny Cradock: a syrup-soaked cherry-blossom teacake (in November) is served with a coupe of vanilla cream and maraschinos. Service can be a little disoriented – long waits for the final bill are always an exasperation. The wine pairings are full of allure, offering such diversions as Czech Pinot Blanc, cherry-sweet vintage Banyuls and Telti-Kuruk, a herbaceous varietal from Ukraine.

In-the-know locals call ahead to ensure they don’t have to endure a long wait at this tiny, cash-only Vietnamese spot. Designed and run primarily as a takeaway (although there are a few foldable seats and one table inside), Hoa Phuong is essentially a one-woman show and you’re expected to play by her rules: opening times are hit and miss, and everything comes in disposable packaging (although regulars often bring their own containers). The spicy beef noodle soup gets rave reviews, but the short menu also features one-plate rice dishes (lemongrass chicken, grilled pork), plus spring rolls and suchlike. We recommend grabbing your takeaway and heading to nearby Elephant Park for a picnic.

Home SW13 is the Barnes sister restaurant to Putney's Home SW15 - don't get those postcodes mixed up if you're plugging in directions. As to the cooking, it's modern brasserie fare, from properly seasoned steak tartare with the Tabasco bottle offered for bespoke spicing. Robust main dishes are for hearty appetites, whether for Cornish monkfish served on its bone, with orangey sauce maltaise and sprouting broccoli, or osso buco made with venison, and served with winter greens and smoked potato. Some of the wines are poured from bottles, some are on tap. Whichever, it's a good list, at very fair prices for the well-heeled area.

Conviviality is key at all of Honey & Co’s operations, and founders Sarit Packer and Itamar Srulovich have lost none of their original restaurant’s charm since relocating to Lamb’s Conduit Street. The current incarnation is a sleeker set-up, softened by foliage and muted tones, with tables covered by paper tablecloths (anticipating that sharing could get a bit messy). Packer and Srulovich, who met while working in kitchens in their home city of Tel Aviv, have detailed their infectious passion for Middle Eastern food via a prolific roster of cookbooks, catering, podcasts and eateries.

As befits the convivial theme, the menus for breakfast, lunch and dinner kick off with sharing feasts and meze. At breakfast, this is followed by an expansive list of egg dishes; at lunch or dinner by a more grown-up seasonal carte. The cast of bountiful plates might include 'ambrosial' labneh with roast butternut squash, harissa and pine nuts, followed by sea beam and fennel tagine, slow-cooked lamb with saffron rice or lentil hotpot with burnt aubergine, scorched egg yolk and sfinge (Moroccan doughnuts). Prepare to have any less-than-generous preconceptions of Middle Eastern familiars blown away and be sure to order the bread – you’ll need plenty to swoop up pools and smears of sauce.

Finish with a slice of pillowy babka or the signature honey and feta cheesecake with crispy kadaif pastry: note, desserts are available all day – cake for breakfast is actively encouraged. For those on the move, there are takeout bakery goods: the ‘Bloomsbury bun’ is their orange blossom and almond tribute to the neighbourhood. The Med-leaning wine list is curated by the team behind the Noble Rot wine bar/restaurant opposite. Otherwise, opt for fun cocktails.

*Closing on 21 March 2026, prior to a relaunch as the Honey & Smoke Grill House.*

The original Honey & Co moved from Warren Street to its current home on Lamb's Conduit Street in 2022 but Honey & Smoke continues on its merry way in Fitzrovia. As the name suggests, this offshoot adds a fiery, smoky grill to proceedings, plying its trade in a big, buzzy, canteen-style space complete with tiled floors, plain square tables and plastic chairs. 

Run by an Israeli couple with Ottolenghi credentials, H&S opens its seasonal account with a colourful, inviting mix of Middle Eastern meze for sharing: pickles, creamy houmous, baba ganoush with crackers, salt-baked beetroot with yoghurt, radicchio and dukkah, all supported by Moroccan sourdough for dipping and scooping. Meanwhile, the grill delivers bigger plates of meat, fish and vegetables fired over coals – perhaps beef kofta with braised white beans and tomato salsa, tuna skewers with preserved lemon and coriander chermoula or mushroom shawarma with turnip pickles and cabbage slaw. The results are ‘delicious, inventive and amply proportioned’.

As for the sweet stuff, top billing goes to the famed feta and honey cheesecake with almonds and blueberries on a kadaif pastry base – although you might also be tempted by the seasonal quince and hazelnut frangipane. The wine list is tailored to the food, with its compass turned firmly towards the Mediterranean; beers, cocktails and sherry complete the drinks offer.

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).

Jeremy Chan has settled into his new surroundings in a tucked-away corner of the huge brutalist building that is 180 Strand. The entrance is discreet and the dining room dominated by an open kitchen that runs down one long side, while the decoration is nothing more than earthy colours, some golden wood (including the well-spaced tables) and the ambient dusk of a hip restaurant. Without design, fireworks or ornamentation, it is what it is: a space devoted to the service of food. The previous location in St James’s Market was known for its Nigerian-inspired cooking – Ikoyi is the name of a well-to-do Lagos suburb. The kitchen still takes its cue from West African cuisine, but this is merely the jumping-off point for a repertoire of precise, produce-led westernised dishes with prices very much in line with the international clientele. From the three-hour-long tasting menu at dinner, a veal sweetbread with pea purée, pork cheek and black garlic was the undoubted standout, closely followed by dry-aged turbot with a frothy crab bisque and umami-rich egusi (melon seed) miso – though the tiny accompanying honey-glazed brioche filled with veg added nothing to the dish and was not well thought through (it was so sticky, we had to ask for wipes). What tantalises is how Chan blends each flavour with the one preceding it, and the one about to come. His careful use of chilli, a subtle hint of heat that lingers gently on the palate, infuses snacks and early courses, building to a crescendo with the final beef offering where two dabs of purée (agrodolce and curried courgette) pack a real punch. Look a little deeper, however, and some flaws are evident: that beef (dry-aged Belted Galloway) proved surprisingly chewy, and the accompanying jollof rice – the classic West African one-pot dish that is a regular fixture on the menu – was made slightly too sweet and creamy with a lobster custard. And while a palate-cleansing timur pepper and rosé sorbet was utterly delicious, desserts are clearly not the kitchen’s forte. Service, however, is faultless. Wines are chosen with spice in mind – we drank an excellent South African Gabriëlskloof Elodie Swartland Chenin Blanc 2022.

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'.

From knitting classes and supper clubs to ice cream sandwiches and country dancing in the street, this ‘green oasis’ is a genuine community hub – and second home to many of its regulars. At its heart is a deli and café selling all sorts of provisions alongside a short menu of Italian-style sandwiches filled to the brim with seasonal goodness – think mortadella with grilled sweet peppers, pickled fennel and aïoli. They also serve pastries from the Little Bread Pedlar at the weekends and ‘the most amazing panettone’ to go with Monmouth coffee, Kernel beer and other drinks. Tables and chairs are laid out on beautiful Bonnington Square if you fancy alfresco. Check Instagram for opening times.

Taking its name from the intricate 16th-century lace shawls of Kashmir, this lavish Mayfair spot has become a ‘beacon for those seeking both luxury and authenticity’ – a meticulously orchestrated celebration of India’s culinary heritage in the heart of London’s West End. Inside, colonial grandeur meets modern flair with soft, warm lighting, swathes of marble, mother of pearl inserts and gorgeous, carefully curated artworks.

Jamavar’s refined, sophisticated design chimes perfectly with the food, which offers indulgence, invention and meticulous attention to detail – especially when it comes to sourcing prime seasonal produce. Small plates pull in ideas and flavours from across the Subcontinent, with the peppery bite of a perfectly crisp, garlicky soft-shell crab vying with kathal bhel – an inventive twist on the classic theme with jackfruit, tamarind and sun-dried tomato taking centre stage (‘it’s street food, yes, but not as you know it,’ thought one reporter).

Elsewhere, there is a lusciously rich Malvani prawn curry in a velvety coconut-infused sauce, while dum tarkari biryani is a fragrant delight with its delicate blend of spices and subtle nuances. Or look to the tandoor for a version of chicken tikka enlivened with sweet basil, pickled radish and yoghurt or dip into the roster of curries – perhaps butter chicken or laal maas (eight-hour slow-cooked Hampshire lamb shank with Rajasthani chilli).

Skilfully crafted sides such as gobhi mutter (cauliflower with peas) add extra layers of taste and texture to proceedings, while desserts are guaranteed to delight and surprise – as in a pistachio milk cake strewn with rose petals or mango rasmalai (‘a work of art’ combining a light wheat biscuit with mango cream and a tangy chutney). To drink, one reporter enjoyed the refreshing ‘tropical escapism’ of a Lychee Cooler, although the hefty international wine list offers more than 25 tempting selections by the glass.

Looking pretty in shades of peach and pastel pink, Jikoni’s boutique charms are a perfect fit for this increasingly trendy quarter of the capital. Inside, cute scatter cushions, pillows, arty lampshades, individually designed napkins and covetable tablecloths create a homely vibe – families and all comers happily eat together here. Dreamed up by well-travelled chef and TV presenter, Ravinder Bhogal, this self-styled ‘no borders kitchen’ reflects her mixed Asian/African heritage and the menu roams far and wide. Expect anything from a ‘prawn toast Scotch egg’ with banana ketchup or a mischievous Indian riff on Spain’s classic pan con tomate to a ‘small but delightful’ plate of Devon crab courgette fritti with avocado and coconut chutney or a tangy take on aloo chaat involving potato skin, black chickpeas, burrata, more avocado and crunchy sev. Larger dishes include the wonderfully named kuku paka with sukuma wiki, which sees grilled chicken paired with a spicy coconut sauce, braised 'collared' greens and saffron rice – a triumph of East African/Asian fusion. If you're partial to a spot of dunking, grazing and sharing, try one of the thali-style combos – perhaps sweet mango curry with a steamed dhokla cake, puri, thoran and a crispy mini papad for scooping. When it comes to sweet things, the wicked banana cake with miso butterscotch, peanut brittle and Ovaltine kulfi is rightly renowned, although the strawberry and yuzu roulade (‘bright, airy and creamy’) is also spot-on. To drink, there’s a tip-top selection of spice-friendly wines, an intriguing collection of global cocktails as well as single-estate teas; also check out the range of Toast beers (made with surplus fresh bread). Jikoni’s many virtues extend to warmly personable service and meticulous attention to detail – no wonder there are queues outside the door.

So tuned in to local tastes are restaurateurs Jeremie Cometto-Lingenheim and David Gingell, they have three eateries within a mile or so of each other. First came Primeur (Newington Green, 2014), then Westerns Laundry (Drayton Park, 2017) and, in 2019, Jolene. It’s a lovely spot, especially when the glass doors are opened out onto the pavement facing the Green. Textured plaster walls, a zinc bar, candles and dried flowers create a simple but stylish look, while a warm greeting comes with an invitation to look at the menu written commendably legibly on a blackboard. On a hot day, when we visited, everyone was ordering the ajo blanco, a chilled cucumber and almond soup, garnished with tender broad beans, peas and courgettes, although classic French artichoke vinaigrette, and an Italian-style nectarine, tomato and pecorino salad also suited the weather. Pasta dominates, however. A tangle of tagliarini, firm to the tooth, comes with asparagus, new season's girolles and raw egg, while orzo is partnered by cuttlefish and clams. In colder months, you might find duck tortelloni or tagliatelle with pork ragù. Price-wise, the only £20+ dishes are a couple of main courses such as skate with brown butter and capers or roast chicken with pink fir potatoes and aïoli. Dessert is a choice between something cakey from the bakery counter (a financier, say) or caramelised bread and butter pudding with custard from the blackboard menu. Service is pally but professional. An A4 page of wines features interesting bottles from excellent producers (Alice Bouvot’s Muscat from Jura, for example) but expect to spend a minimum of £45 a bottle. If you enjoy the bread (we liked the focaccia) you can pick up a loaf here or at the group’s London-based Jolene bakeries.

The location may be Bermondsey rather than the backstreets of Barcelona, but there’s something ruggedly Spanish about this pint-sized, no-bookings tapas joint from celeb chef José Pizarro. Expect to queue and expect to be hemmed in once you get through the door; it’s usually standing room only around the counter (although there are a few baggable seats for early birds). Your reward for any discomfort is a boisterous down-home vibe and a stonkingly good line-up of Spanish wines and sherries, plus a chalkboard of proper tapas plates with ne’er a dud in sight. All the classics are present and correct, from definitive egg tortilla and punchy croquetas to pan con tomate, but it would be a sin to ignore some of the more specialist platefuls – perhaps earthy lentils with chorizo, squid dressed with jalapeño-spiked pico de gallo or the sweet-savoury temptations of fried goat’s cheese with honey. If more sweetness is called for, look no further than the ubiquitous cream catalana. The wine list is an oenphile’s tour of the Spanish regions, with everything available by the glass for inquisitive tasting; otherwise, goblets of G&T, rosada spritz and bottles of cerveza help to banish any thoughts of mañana.

Josephine is that rare combination, a classic-looking French bistro that serves its neighbourhood well but is also worth travelling across town for. The fact that the driving force behind the operation is chef Claude Bosi makes it easy to see why news of its repute has spread far and wide – the dining room is regularly packed to capacity, humming with noise and activity.

The menu is classic French through and through, with a focus on bistro classics and regional Lyonnaise specialities from Bosi’s home town. Though the food stays in familiar territory rather than going adventuring, everything is produced with great assurance – as one might expect, given Bosi's elevated reputation. Indeed, one sign of a good kitchen is what it can do with humble ingredients. Consider, for example, the soupe à l’oignon, widely copied although we’ve yet to eat one that comes even close to this version.

Many staples are here (terrine, filet de boeuf au poivre, lapin à la moutarde, gratin dauphinois) – dishes that people really enjoy eating. And judging by the elegant simplicity of leeks vinaigrette, or skate wing in a brown butter and caper sauce, or even a light, puffy vol-au-vent filled with chicken and morel sauce, there are never too many tastes on the plate, either. Like the cheeseboard, desserts are resolutely Gallic – think oeuf à la neige, prâline rose, and tarte au citron meringue. The good value of the daily plat du jour and the short-choice set menu offered at lunch and dinner add to Josephine's allure.

With Lucy Bosi overseeing front of house alongside general manager Will Smith (the ex-Arbutus/Wild Honey frontman lured back from Scotland), it's clear that all aspects of running a restaurant – buying ingredients, cooking, ambience – have been brought together without fuss or ostentation. House wines are available bouchon-style (you only pay for what you have drunk), and the full list is an oenophile's tour of the Rhône Valley.

In an area of south London crying out for decent places to eat, we have high hopes that this 'really good', all-day Indian newcomer will succeed. Kachori certainly sticks out from the local competition. Found on the ground floor of a new development by Elephant and Castle tube station, it exudes coolness; the room is big and glossy, scoring highly with its slick bar, black-and-white chequered flooring, dark wood furnishings, oval cut-glass lights and muslin canopies over gold-coloured banquettes. You might think you are in W1 but, even with the growing gentrification of this area, it's unlike anywhere else in SE17. The kitchen is headed by Brinder Narula (ex-Gymkhana, Benares), who has developed a menu inspired by the cooking of northern India – so expect small plates, burgers with an Anglo-Indian twist, biryanis, tandooris and grills, as well as enticing larger plates. We started with the restaurant’s namesake, a huge ball of truffle-infused green-pea kachori (a deep-fried sticky snack), as well as melt-in-your-mouth spice-infused guinea fowl tikka served with 'tempered curd rice'. Spot-on spicing was also a feature of bigger dishes, from shelled jumbo prawns cooked in the tandoor and teamed with avocado raita to a richly favoured goat bhuna with cumin, cloves, pickled ginger and turmeric, while a vegetarian stir-fry of soft portobello mushroom was neatly contrasted by the crunchiness of pak choi. To finish, do make room for the masala chai brûlée. Other plus points include friendly service, a fairly priced set lunch, a dozen cocktails and a short wine list, with bottles from £25.

A well-trodden restaurant site hard by Chelsea’s Cadogan Hall is the setting for this solo outing from ex-Tamarind chef Peter Joseph. Like Tamarind, Kahani (the name means ‘story’ in Hindi) occupies a high-ceilinged basement room that has been gilded with luxe features (seductive low lighting, stylish wall coverings, crimson banquettes, armchair seating), while food is prepared in an open-to-view kitchen. The chef made his name with a repertoire of dishes that fused Indian spices and cooking techniques with British ingredients – and Kahani’s menu tells a similar tale. Small plates open the show: seared scallops coated in star anise and served with smoked pepper chutney and shrimp pickle is typical, although veggies might prefer the spiced green-pea cake with cranberry chutney. Bigger dishes focus on the chargrill and tandoor, from venison keema accompanied by a truffle naan to grilled stone bass coated with brown garlic and sun-dried tomato purée. Specials and ‘dawat’ (feasting) dishes are also worth a punt – perhaps a chargrilled sirloin kebab with truffle oil, ground fennel and royal cumin. Apart from a ‘medley of kulfis’, desserts are westernised classics – toffee and date pudding with custard sauce, for example. A full vegan menu, pre-theatre deals and even an Indian ‘weekend roast’ are further inducements for well-heeled Chelsea locals, who are also happy to pay handsomely for exclusive spice-friendly bottles from the ritzy wine list.

‘So consistent and so good,’ is one verdict on this relaxed Mayfair offering helmed by established Indian restaurateur Atul Kochhar. The decor transports diners with its cool jazz soundtrack and elegantly themed interiors inspired by the Sikkimese landscapes, while the cooking delves into the lesser-known cuisine of the Subcontinent’s north-east provinces, combining traditional techniques with modern flair.

For starters, regulars rate the chidiya samosa ki chaat (a vegetable mini samosa with smoked yellow-pea curry and chutneys), and it’s also worth seeking out the tandoori monkfish with coconut creamed kale – although the chef’s signature chicken tikka pie (dating from 2006) is the all-round bestseller. Main dishes highlight the Kochhar’s commitment to provenance and British regional produce – as in batak salan (slow-cooked gadwall duck breast with apricot, confit leg samosa, peanut and coconut sauce) or a ‘coastal’ seafood bisque involving red snapper, scallops, tiger prawns and mussels in a spiced broth with caviar. Vegetarian dishes also figure prominently, from jackfruit kofta in coconut korma to fig-filled paneer tikka with baby spinach and rich tomato gravy.

If a sweet finale is required, try the pistachio kulfi with dark chocolate mousse and rose foam. Service is generally attentive, and knowledgeable staff are ‘keen to make recommendations tailored to individual tastes’. There’s a brunch offer at the weekend, while Monday brings a special three-course menu with a carafe of house wine included. The bar is a good call in its own right, and the extensive drinks list spans everything from exotic cocktails to a carefully curated list of spice-friendly global wines. 

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.

Tucked away from Highbury Fields, in a pleasant pocket of Corsica Street, this Japanese café has been nourishing in-the-know locals since 2017. A short menu runs from a Japanese breakfast spread – miso soup with a poached egg, multigrain rice ball and homemade granola – to nutritious 'balance bowls' and a selection of excellent onigiri. To drink, there are seasonal juices, fresh cordials and good coffee (from Monmouth) to enjoy with a slice of their burnt Basque cheesecake. Minimalist interiors create a calming retreat, though when the sun shines there are few more pleasant spots to while away a morning than a seat on the leafy terrace. Takeaways too.

‘A haven of cultural tanquillity’ and a ‘landmark for the Kensington community’, Kitchen W8 is the flagship restaurant of the vastly experienced business partnership of Rebecca Mascarenhas and chef Philip Howard. With its linened tables, plain cream walls, ornate mirrors and contemporary art, it wouldn't look out of place on a quiet street in Mayfair – yet it also manages to perform the role of a special-occasion neighbourhood spot to perfection.

‘Our style,’ write the hosts, ‘is modern English with a French soul,’ hitting a popular gastronomic nail on the head, and there is an impressive balance of the earthy and the refined in the cooking that exerts a strong appeal. Scorch a Cornish mackerel and add to it some smoked eel with golden beets and bitter leaves, and it's hard for many to resist. Pasta work is executed with particular aplomb, perhaps for a first course of pigeon raviolo with pickled pear and sweet-sour shallots. Prime materials are top-drawer, extending from 60-day Dexter sirloin or venison haunch with red cabbage and quince to a gently handled fillet of brill that comes with caramelised cauliflower and chestnut gnocchi in truffled leek velouté.

At dessert, leafy clementine sorbet with warm vanilla beignets caters for those who might wilt at the prospect of Valrhona chocolate pavé with salted-caramel ice cream, peanut praline and lime. A five-course tasting menu offers a comprehensive tour of the kitchen's repertoire. By-the-glass wines rope in some on-trend varietals such as Grüner Veltliner, Albariño and Touriga Nacional, before the main list hits the highlights, never forgetting that the whole operation is powered by the aforementioned ‘French soul’.

An animated local institution, this simple set of rooms has been a bright light in Shepherd Market since 2014. The two-tiered interior (linked by a narrow staircase) has a rustic, thrown-together look with clumping wood furniture, while diversion from basic comfort levels comes in the form of a regularly changing menu that plays obsessively off the seasons. The unfussy, purposeful cooking is all about first-class ingredients and big, bold flavours – the tone set immediately with starters of grilled fennel, pickles and mustard vinaigrette, silky cod’s roe with radishes and crackers, and a tangle of fresh peas and pea shoots atop soft, rich Graceburn cheese spread thickly on toast. The flavour of the wood grill is introduced judiciously, applying the sparest of preparations to a Belted Galloway wing rib (advertised for two but more than enough for three), nicely charred, deliciously fatty, seriously pink inside, smeared with a melting tarragon and green peppercorn butter and served with new potatoes and a watercress salad. A punchy side of grilled cauliflower and XO sauce provides the perfect accompaniment. Look out, too, for the whole grilled lemon sole and the pork chop served with salsa verde, pickled raisins and chicory. Finish with 'queen bee' parfait, boozy strawberries and pistachio. Plus points for the engaged staff, the pavement tables shaded by an awning and large umbrellas, and the modest but modern wine list, which starts at a remarkable (given the location) £5 a glass, £15 a carafe and £30 a bottle, with plenty of options below the £45 mark.

A bright spark on Deptford High Street, this popular eatery was set up by seasoned London chefs Matt Klose and Sam Soan on the back of their thriving catering and events company. Upscale canteen furniture sets the tone, while chatty, amicable staff are happy to talk diners through the day’s line-up of Med-accented small plates and bigger dishes, Expect anything from crisp, dainty smoked haddock, cauliflower and lovage arancini to onglet steak with frites, coley fillet with sauce vierge or coconut panna cotta with strawberries. To drink, beers from Bermondsey and Peckham appear alongside cocktails and a clutch of Old World wines.

Kol is the word for ‘cabbage’ in Mexican Spanish, and the idea of taking an under-appreciated vegetable and spinning it into haute cuisine might serve as a metaphor for how Santiago Lastra has brought 9,000 years of Mexican culinary heritage bang up-to-date for British diners more used to tacos and tortillas. The expat chef had already done a tour of duty of the world’s most lauded kitchens before overseeing the Noma Mexico pop-up in 2017, and (as at Noma) Kol's menu only features local or native ingredients.

Lastra's signature dish – and the standout of the 10-course menu – is a fat Scottish langoustine tail daubed with smoked chilli, its sweetness cut with a coriander-like garland of sea arrowgrass. Further garnishing comes at the table, courtesy of squeezing out the juices in the creature’s head, before the whole delectable parcel is wrapped up in a tortilla. It’s the sort of bite-size morsel one wishes came in a serving of 10. Despite the theatrical saucing, it is also a fairly simple (if labour-intensive) assembly, as is another hugely enjoyable course involving confit pork cheek with black beans, woodruff and apple, plus crispy pig’s skin to sprinkle on top of more tortillas (kept warm in a bespoke pouch). Although there’s no denying the creativity it takes to pair a corn and yellow pepper custard with caviar and bisect the dish with tagete flowers (one of the most visually arresting plates we’ve eaten in a long time), there are perhaps not enough flavour fireworks to sustain 10 courses.

The room looks just as good as the cooking, with an open kitchen in the middle staffed by young chefs clad in the same earthy-toned colours as their surroundings, while word-perfect waiting staff are as committed to the Kol project as Lastra himself. Overall, however, we felt this was a tasting menu shaped to fit the sort of international ‘best restaurant’ lists that Noma once topped, with Mexican flavours grafted on to an essentially European structure – from the first thimbleful of kombucha and mezcal broth to a pre-dessert sorbet of butternut squash and chilli. Still, Lastra is to be commended for proving that high-end Mexican cuisine works as well in London as it does in Mexico City.

Just be warned that reservations go live two months ahead and disappear almost immediately; the basement Mezcaleria bar may be an easier (and cheaper) way in, with Mexican spirits to wash down small plates every bit as intricate as the dishes served upstairs.

Husband and wife team Eroshan and Aushi Meewella’s bijou Sri Lankan eatery is fun, and their generous, low-priced, two-course set lunch comes highly recommended. Squeeze into the tiny terrace fronting Kingly Street (great for people-watching) or bag one of the tables inside and tuck into that Sri Lankan lunch staple – a composite curry/rice bowl. We chose Ceylon chicken curry and 'Vaira’s jaggery beef', both served with dhal, okra, coconutty pol sambol and mango chutney on a bed of rice. Wash it all down with Sri Lanka’s favourite Lion lager, cocktails such as a chilli-laced Margarita, or something from the short European wine list.

The impressive window display will stop you in your tracks if you’re ambling down Kentish Town Road, and there’s much more inside this wonderfully airy, family-run artisan bakery. You’ll be spoilt for choice, but everything is spot-on – from a jambon beurre baguette made with ham from a local butcher and cultured butter from Estate Dairy (‘a perfect example of simple things done well’) to a superb Earl Grey swirl – an unusual pastry packed full of flavour. They sell some decent lunchtime salads too (try the Bombay potato), and we will be back to sample their babka (sweet braided brioche) next time.

The Sanskrit word ‘kutir’ means ‘a small cottage in the middle of nowhere’; in fact, Kutir (the restaurant) occupies a luxe Chelsea townhouse not a million miles from Buckingham Palace – although inspiration comes from India's wildlife lodges ('away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life'). There's no doubting that chef Rohit Ghai's cooking is transportive, with its compellingly creative take on Indian cuisine including ‘expedition’ tasting menus (with optional wine pairings) that can ‘surprise and delight’.

Pressing the doorbell to gain entry adds to the sense of exclusivity, as does the smart decor which references India's stunning natural world. The atmosphere is ‘perfect for special occasions’, helped by staff who can be guaranteed to deliver ‘great service’; there’s also a delightful terrace for summer dining. Traditional ideas get decidedly modern treatment, as in a duck starter that is fruitily embellished with cranberry, kumquat, pickle and chutney, while the tandoor yields such esoteric, smoky delights as paneer tikka with sorrel, lime murabba, tomato salsa and crispy rice or a quail naan with truffle, masala scrambled egg, mince and oil.

Seafood also shows up well when it comes to main courses including wild jumbo prawns with coconut and curry leaf or pan-seared sea bass with jaggery and yoghurt rice. Guinea fowl arrives in a biryani, while desserts might feature a take on crème brûlée involving heritage carrots, reduced milk and orange. The globetrotting wine list has slim pickings below £40, although there’s a decent choice by the glass or carafe. Otherwise, drink Indian lager, IPA or something from the innovative list of Indian-inspired cocktails.    

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.

Run along similar lines to its elder sibling in Marylebone, the Bloomsbury outpost of Patricia Michelson’s brilliant cheese-focused emporium stands out because it takes bookings throughout the week. Inside, it’s tiny and pared-back, with a curved counter, close-packed tables and a mini cheese room – plus a larger space downstairs. The set-up runs from breakfast onwards, with lunch and supper as the standouts: fabulously ripe cheeses and artisan charcuterie are the mainstays, but strong seasonal flavours abound – from pumpkin fritters and venison carpaccio with pickled chanterelles to shallot tarte tatin and cod with sauce bordelaise and Puy lentils. For afters, how about plum frangipane tart? A short European wine list is bolstered by aperitifs and beers.

Patricia Michelson started selling cheese in 1992 with a consignment of Beaufort Chalet d'Alpage; today, her esteemed Marylebone emporium/deli is a turophile’s treasure-trove with some 200 specimens in its temperature-controlled cheese room. But there’s more. Head to the adjoining café ‘at No 6’ for bespoke cheese selections prettily arranged on wooden boards, plus a roll call of daytime treats ranging from breakfast croissants, eggs and suchlike to headlining lunches – artisan charcuterie, pâté en croûte with prunes, wild boar tagliatelle, twice-baked Gruyère soufflé and myriad home-baked sweet things. Drink coffee from Le Piantagioni or something from the European wine list. It’s normally walk-ins only, but on Fridays they open late and take bookings.

There was a moment, a generation or two ago, when Chiswick became the place to be seen eating out, at least for those intrepid enough to escape the West End. That it has retained its allure as a London destination is due in large part to the enviable consistency of La Trompette, still a smart choice for serene evenings indoors and summer lunches on the terrace.

In a large expansive room with clothed tables and naked floor, the sense of an outfit running on gleaming rails inspires confidence, and chef Greg Wellman has ably maintained the culinary excellence of the place. The weekday lunchtime prix-fixe is a good deal, offering the likes of beef daube bourguignon and mash or roast cod with mussels and monk's beard among its choice of main courses. However, it's the monthly changing carte that gives Wellman the chance to truly spread his wings, with cooking that looks principally to southern France and the Med coasts, not precluding flashes of assertive East Asian seasoning.

A first-course assemblage of Hass avocado, Tokyo turnips and enoki mushrooms is lit up with yuzu ponzu, chilli, ginger, sesame and coriander, for example, while sashimi of salmon with pistachios receives a dressing of pickled rhubarb and white soy. The dishes are always multi-layered, but with the kind of complexity that wins over diners, rather than baffling them. There may be nothing unusual in the main-course array of Ibérico pork and presa with charcuterie, pancetta, baby beets and mustard, but in concert, they add up to more than the sum of their savoury parts. Pasta recipes often supply the inspiration for the distinctively polished vegetarian main dish, perhaps pumpkin and amaretti agnolotti in sage beurre noisette with wild mushrooms, pine nuts and Parmesan.

Desserts sound deceptively straightforward – rhubarb and custard, apple crumble soufflé, pineapple tatin with lime ice cream – but always reveal unexpected depths, while the immaculately kept cheeseboard offers a wealth of appealing choice. That just leaves the superlative wine collection, a true labour of love that isn't just stuffed with unimaginative European classics. The glass list alone is exemplary: a macerated Sussex sparkling rosé might open the bidding, perhaps followed by a Cypriot Xynisteri or a Nebbiolo from the Adelaide Hills.

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.

Having hit the jackpot with their Burmese restaurant in Shoreditch, Dan Anton and Zaw Mahesh have brought their winning ways to Covent Garden – although Lahpet West End is a very different beast to the original. Occupying two floors in the new, glitzy The Yards development, it comes with a heated terrace, open kitchen and a cocktail bar on each level. Festooned with plants and pickling jars, it’s a world away from ‘economically ravaged Myanmar’, although the food is fiercely authentic. Those who have eaten at the original will recognise quite a few dishes on the menu, including lahpet thohk (a crunchy salad imbued with the ‘subtle aftertaste’ of pickled tea leaves). Also look for the golden-brown Shan tofu fritters stirred into life with tamarind dip or coconut noodles with chicken, paprika oil and crispy wonton. The new kitchen also sports a robata grill, which produces starry dishes such as succulent pork belly with crispy skin, its richness neatly offset by a dash of sour bamboo curry and dry-fermented soya bean paste. Service is laid-back, and so is the atmosphere. 'Lahpet' means 'tea', so it's no surprise that fragrant infusions crop up on the drinks list alongside east-west cocktails, craft beers and spice-friendly wines.

There’s a lot more competition than when Lardo first opened its doors in 2012, but this industrial-chic venue remains a favourite among the local families and well-to-do professionals of London Fields. While the pizza oven is busy turning out blistered-crust beauties, the kitchen demonstrates 'ristorante' skills with dishes like pig’s head croquette, soft ricotta gnudi as well as creative vegan options. Classic Italian desserts include affogato, tiramisu and panna cotta, while a short, stylish wine list starts with tempting bottles from £28.

*Closed for major redevelopment. Due to reopen sometime in 2027.*

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.

Quite a caricature of a French bistro, complete with bentwood chairs, gingham tablecloths and workaday glassware, this neighbourhood favourite ensures that diners’ expectations are focused mistily across the Channel even before they sit down. The menu also delivers, from soupe de poissons to steak frites, but stay with the theme to get the best from it: salty samphire with roasted garlic prawns or crispy confit duck with soft-textured Puy lentils, say. The house dessert – a 'petit citron' posset – is worth holding out for, and readers have raved about the warm pot au chocolat. Drink French wines by the carafe and stick to the weekly set menu (or the daily deals) to keep things reasonably affordable. 

A converted warehouse in the shadow of Tower Bridge is an unlikely spot for a small, independently owned Italian restaurant, but Legare 'punches above its weight,' according to one well-satisfied visitor. Inside, it’s all white walls and stone flooring with tightly packed tables and a centrepiece open-plan kitchen delivering a seasonal, regularly changing menu that’s sensibly short and bolstered by blackboard specials. Chef/co-owner Matt Beardmore honed his craft at Trullo in Islington and we were impressed by the exemplary hand-made paccheri (large pasta tubes) served with a ragù of braised cuttlefish given heft with a touch of chilli and a topping of bottarga. We kicked things off with a dish of cured chalk stream trout, pickled kohlrabi, dill and mustard seeds as well as delicious grilled mackerel with shaved fennel and orange, while our 'secondi' was accurately timed roast quail which arrived in company with onions, sultanas, Kalamazoo olives, pine nuts and pink fir potatoes. The fresh-from-the-oven focaccia seasoned with roasted garlic and oregano is not to be missed, while dessert might promise cannoli with Marcona almonds (priced by the piece) or, perhaps, white chocolate cremoso with passion fruit. Beardmore's business partner Jay Patel (ex-Barrafina) heads a tightly knit front-of-house-team. The wine list comprises some 38 natural tipples sourced from small Italian producers, with a dozen offered by the glass. 

On the corner of Harley Street and Cavendish Square, this wine bar/brasserie from Parisian big hitter Le Taillevent puts wine front and centre to dining here. Indeed, the sheer breadth, kind pricing, accessibility and rarity of the wines on offer really rewards drinkers. As well as an encyclopaedic list, there are 110 by the glass – hence the name. By using a very handy, easy-to-navigate grid, each menu item is matched to four wines in different price brackets, offered in 70ml and 125ml measures. Should that prove too confusing, a sommelier is on hand to give very good advice. Cooking remains understated, everything is done with care, using good ingredients, overlaid with precision and French familiarity. Sauces are a real strength – notably a light but complex spin on bonne femme accompanying mushroom-stuffed Cornish turbot fillet. A lobster dish, deceptively complex and superbly balanced, utilised pickled discs of pumpkin as a sharp-sweet foil to a light and delicate foaming bisque containing generous amounts of claw and leg meat, all topped by two perfectly poached slices of tail finished with pieces of orange and pumpkin seeds – perfect with a 2015 Anjou Blanc. Elsewhere, an exquisite, glossy and translucent sauce tinged with coffee complemented two pink roasted slices of venison loin, while a whole baby parsnip, parsnip purée and some roasted hen of the woods mushrooms made for a classically sweet garnish – superbly matched by a glass of 2015 Zinfandel. Lunch began with a benchmark gougère filled with hot cheese cream, a glass of perfectly made foaming ajo blanco, and a whole round loaf of malted sourdough alongside generously salted butter, while various riffs on blackberry (sorbet, bavarois, soup) with vanilla yoghurt foam and some meringue shards provided a fitting finale. Set in a former Coutts bank, the whole place looks sleek, glossy and plush – although it comes with a relaxed vibe and surprisingly straightforward service.

A genuine restaurant du quartier, if ever there was, this Crouch End spot is run by the titular duo of Robert Reid at the stoves and Jean-Christophe Slowik (JC, to the army of regulars) out front. If only one of them is French, he is at least bubbling over with enough unabashed Gallic bonhomie for two. Battleship-grey panelling, undressed tables and a trio of blackboards busily covered in numerous chalk-scribbled specials form a backdrop to Reid's assured bourgeois cooking.

You might easily guess what's on the menu, sight unseen (soupe à l'oignon gratinée, garlic-buttered escargots, Bayonne ham with celeriac rémoulade for starters), although you might not anticipate the panache with which the dishes are realised – or the uncommon quality of the raw materials. Moving on, mains might bring entrecôte or ribeye steaks with béarnaise sauce and piles of frites or smoked haddock in mustard sauce topped with a poached egg.

The non-meat alternative of, say, artichokes with ratatouille and chickpeas in cumin-scented roast tomato sauce shows more consideration for veggies than you might find in many a traditional French bistro. Finish with rum baba and apricot compôte or tarte fine aux pommes. A French wine list covers all bases, with glasses from £7.95, plus still or sparkling Kir to start.

*Chef Philip Limpl has returned to Austria and been replaced by Naples-born Rani Raimondi.*

From the moment we walked in on a cold January day, we were greeted with warm smiles and immediately felt at ease with the casual vibe that emanates from this neighbourhood gem – a tribute to New York DJ Larry Levan. Inside, the dining space is fitted out with deep-blue walls, mahogany-topped tables, concrete flooring, dark blue banquettes and an open-plan kitchen. And, of course, there's a cool soundtrack.

As for the cooking, expect Austrian chef Philip Limpl's ‘bistronomy’-inspired sharing plates of seasonal, contemporary food. We kicked things off with a hillock of chickpea fries topped with Comté cheese plus some saffron aïoli on the side, followed by beef tartare innovatively paired with persimmon and green peppercorns. Smoked chalk stream trout, which arrived with crushed potatoes, charred tenderstem broccoli and verjus, was light and tasty – another success. To conclude, a chocolate and sticky caramel torte worked surprisingly well with a wild mushroom ice cream (made from fungal ‘scrappings’ to avoid waste).

If you have a fondness for natural wines, then you've come to the right place: there's a wine bar and shop next door, while the comprehensive inventory of organic, low-intervention and biodynamic bottles from across Europe starts from £32. The Jura (a region that often gets overlooked) receives special attention – look for the ‘vin jaune’ jewel, Château-Chalon 1993.

Conceived by two Chinese ladies from Chongqing who shared a flat in London, this buzzy, dimly lit noodle joint is squirrelled away in the basement of the Jackalope pub on Weymouth Mews. There’s no table service, so queue to place your order – although you'll be rewarded with some of the best noodles in town. Chongqing cuisine is similar to Szechuan, which means seriously pungent, spicy flavours – as in tender beef brisket with superb noodles and water spinach stirred into life with fresh coriander or signature xiao mian noodles with minced pork. Also try the big silky wontons in a pleasantly numbing broth with yellow beans. Highly addictive stuff. 

‘A beacon of freshness and seasonality’ in the elegant environs of Herne Hill, independently owned Llewelyn’s has more than proved its worth as a neighbourhood asset with chef Lasse Petersen at the helm. Large windows flood the pale walls of the dining room with natural light, reflected by gilt-edged mirrors, while the sumptuous leather of the green banquettes makes a naturally inviting place to linger during an unhurried lunchtime. Despite the relative simplicity of the menu descriptions, there is much afoot in the dishes: a rösti is embellished with smoked eel and mustard leaf, while monkfish is given the seasonal treatment with capers, crab and Brussels sprouts.

There are touches of traditionalism too: crisp-skinned pollack might be honour-guarded with mussels and sauced with a rich bisque, while grilled leg of lamb could be dressed with bagna cauda and charred greens. Veggies might fancy something cheesy – perhaps Roquefort with marinated figs, grapes and frisée or a Comté soufflé with creamed spinach and autumn truffle. Desserts play the seasonal card, from a set cream with winter citrus and pistachio to a ‘mince pie’ riff on Arctic roll.

Service exudes ‘unwavering warmth and impeccable hospitality,’ according to one devotee, while an eclectic collection of wines, including a welter of skin-contact gear, adds to the allure. The owners also run a shop and wine bar called Lulu's, next door to the restaurant.

There's an enjoyable feeling of sitting in Katie Exton's smart neighbourhood bistro within unlikely proximity of Victoria station. Light wood furniture and comfortable booth-seating, upholstered in juicy tangerine, combine to make a happy, elegant space, with the sun pouring in through a skylight. Exton previously worked as a sommelier, and the carefully curated wine selection is a brilliant bass note of the assured performance here.

In the kitchen, Graham Brown works with skill and proficiency, producing those appealingly simple, produce-first dishes that can be hard to find these days. For starters, a generously portioned tartare of cured bream with cucumber and kohlrabi in a nest of smashed beer batter is a menu stalwart that still delights, while an unctuous confit rabbit leg with farfalle and pangrattato flaunts a sophisticated understanding of the prinicples of Italian ragù. Mains might bring on rolled saddle and braised shoulder of lamb with curried sweet potato, spinach and dukkah or chalk stream trout with prawn croustillant in shellfish sauce.

Desserts are a treat. A version of Paris-Brest made with whipped pistachio and white chocolate cream came studded with strawberries, while a mirror-glazed milk chocolate mousse was topped with honeycomb. The lunch and early-evening set menu (a pair of choices at each course) is very good value. 

Warm, intelligent and attentive service sets the tone, and the wine list cries out for exploration, particularly as the pricing structure is not at all what one might expect in this prime postcode. The glass selection also comes in half-litre carafes, running from waxy, citrussy Carricante and plummy Sicilian Nero d'Avola to Coravin measures of Condrieu and Oregon Pinot Noir.

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.

Inspired by the French 'grand brasserie', and running from breakfast to dinner, Maison François is light and spacious, with an impressive double-height ceiling, an open kitchen at one end and Frank’s (a moodily lit wine bar) in the basement. The vibe is smart-casual with comfortable seats, reasonably spaced tables and unfailingly warm service (judging by feedback we've received). Indeed, one contributor who took advantage of a special offer of ‘very good’ moules frites for £15 had this to say: 'we were eating the cheapest meal on the menu, but were treated as though we had ordered the most expensive.'

The carte is a dream line-up of Gallic classics (hake with sauce bouillabaisse, entrecôte de boeuf au poivre), and everything we ate was spot-on at our most recent visit. Pâte en croûte, Comté gougères and jambon noir de Bigorre with celeriac rémoulade proved to be just perfect, while côte de veau arrived precisely cooked with the fat beautifully caramelised. Then, as a finale, the desserts appeared. Can anyone resist a trolley laden with macarons, tarte aux pommes, Paris-Brest, mousse au chocolat and much more?

Prices aren't greedy considering the well-heeled location (a short walk from Fortnum & Mason), while the lengthy wine list genuinely offers something for everyone, with France as the main contender but back-up from the rest of Europe and the New World.

*Sertaç Dirik has stepped down as head chef/co-owner, although he will retain some interests in the business.*

Of the many Turkish restaurants peppered along this stretch of the A10, here’s one sticking its neck out. Opened in 1994 by Ali Dirik, the business is now in the hands of sons Ferhat and Sertaç. When lockdown first hit, it allowed them to reconsider the identity of the traditional ocakbasi and since then the brothers have been fine-tuning a charming symphony of old and new. The space itself – worn and well-loved from nearly 30 years in service – embodies this juxtaposition. Old furniture is sharpened by a shock of ultramarine blue on the walls and a constellation of spotlights stud the whitewashed ceiling.

At inspection, rock music played for the team of chefs working the open kitchen, but like it or not, it was soon drowned out by the noise of happy diners on a Friday evening. While some sport the hallmarks of young Dalstonites, not everyone has got the memo on the new era. Two consecutive walk-ins settle in before reading the menu, with its precision and higher pricing, and walk out again, graciously directed by a deft front-of-house team to more traditional operations.

Those in-the-know might open proceedings with a delightfully comforting sourdough pide – charred, craggy and pillowy – served with cultured kaymak butter or grilled houmous. This is a good point to try Cornish farming hero Matt Chatfield’s celebrated mutton 'cull yaw' – a hallmark of restaurants sourcing for flavour and sustainable production. Here, in kofte form, it’s keenly seasoned and rosy-pink at the core – perfect with an elegant glass of Chilean orange wine on the side.

The menu continues to mix familiarity with a modern European edge that speaks of Sertaç’s time in some of Copenhagen's hallowed kitchens. Mushroom manti (dumplings) embellished with filament-like cordyceps are brought down to earth by a confit garlic yoghurt, while the lamb shoulder tandir with bulgur wheat is simple perfection, balanced by a bright ezme (spicy sauce), with pickles and ferments ordered on the side. A dessert of mountain-tea ice cream is paired with scarcely sweetened diced rhubarb and a sweeter purée, topped with dark notes from a layer of grilled filo – one of many careful contrasts this restaurant achieves so beautifully.

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’.

Deptford High Street has a jewel in its midst; not a shiny blingy one, but a precious little gem called Marcella. 'The art of simplicity' is their mantra, and this sister to Peckham's Artusi is the sort of unpretentious local Italian joint you find yourself returning to again and again. There's an almost canteen-like sparsity to the interior, but a contemporary Scandi-inspired one, with blackboards revealing where the heart and soul of this place resides. It's a short menu, with trios of starters and mains, plus a couple of pasta dishes available in two sizes (Sicilian casarecce, the twisted one, with spicy 'nduja and mascarpone, say). The produce arriving in the kitchen is evidently sourced with due diligence, from the UK and Italy. In summer, you might find Grezzina courgettes braised in Parmesan broth with Risina beans, or grilled Sucrine lettuce matched with ricotta made from sheep's milk (plus potatoes and peas). Tender pork belly rocks up with Tropea onions and anchovy in a full-flavoured main course, while cod is paired with smoky aubergines and peppers. To finish, dark chocolate mousse gets a sweet kiss from salted caramel. The all-Italian wine list opens at £29, and includes helpfully concise tasting notes. 

Brixton has a reputation for exciting startups and on-trend eateries, so it’s curious to find a traditional Italian neighbourhood restaurant in this part of town. The venue itself is done out in minimalist style (think exposed concrete, mirrors and dark wood accentuating a couple of large-format artworks) and named after the Maremma, an unspoilt region in the south of Tuscany famed for its sparkling seasonal produce (and its luscious Super Tuscan wines).

The kitchen shows its mettle with a repertoire of classically prepared dishes that are ‘deeply Italian’ rather than ornamental. Pasta is a good call, and it's done to a high standard, from pumpkin pansotti with butter and sage or chestnut tagliatelle with cavolo nero, chilli and new season’s olive oil to pappardelle with a velvety wild boar ragù. Elsewhere, rare-breed meats feature on the specials board and there’s prime seafood in the guise of, say, seared rosemary-encrusted tuna with rocket and aged pecorino. Desserts also offer temptations galore, from Stockwell honeycomb gelato to an ‘epic tiramisu’, while cheeses are artisan Italian beauties served with chestnut honey.

You can see the chefs at work, and everything is served without pretension by a knowledgeable, welcoming team. Reasonably priced Italian cocktails are well worth sipping at the counter, and the all-Italian wine list offers some ‘fantastic selections at affordable prices’. The owners also run Il Maremmano, an ‘apericena’ bar just round the corner on Tulse Hill.

There are a number of contenders for London’s best-looking dining room, but the old Criterion (established in 1873) must come very near the top of the list. Now fully restored after years in the doldrums, the interior pays homage to the Parisian-style grand brasserie, with extravagant decoration in the form of a stunning gold mosaic ceiling, marble walls studded with semi-precious stones, and an impressive, raised stage-like private dining area to the rear. However, as the lamps and artefacts indicate, culinary inspiration comes from India – this 180-seater is now the capital’s fourth Masala Zone, that highly regarded group from the family behind some of London’s best upmarket Indian restaurants (Chutney Mary, Veeraswamy and Amaya).

The joy of eating at any Masala Zone is that each kitchen dives straight into well-loved traditional specialities in ways that make them seem full of unexplored potential. A broad selection of small plates and snacks kicks things off, perhaps a moreish 'onion flower' bhaji or lamb sliders served in home-baked caramelised onion pao bread. Follow with a deliciously fragrant Alleppey prawn curry lifted by a blend of freshly stone-ground spices and mellowed with coconut, or a fiery chicken dish (from the southwestern city of Mangalore) balanced with coconut milk and lime. They serve an excellent butter chicken, too. The paneer, made fresh daily, is not to missed, whether makhanwalla (a rich, caramelised tomato curry) or tikka (marinated in yoghurt, fenugreek leaves and yellow chilli).

Biryanis are equally worthy of attention, as are the all-in-one thalis (a perfect budget option if you're eating solo). Breakfast and afternoon ‘high chai’ are also worth knowing about. Prices are kind, staff are charming, and the mayhem of Piccadilly Circus seems a world away. The Masala Zone group is also famed for its ‘snappy’ cocktails and well-chosen, food-friendly wines.

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).

It’s noisy and tightly packed but what really stands out is the service: here is a Chinese eatery where the staff are genuinely friendly and cheerful, tending to everyone’s needs with ‘unobtrusive efficiency’. Like the Xi’an Impressions original in north London, the food is an ‘outright bargain’ and truly authentic, with top honours going to the long, flat, hand-pulled noodles from Shaanxi province: the minced beef and vegetable version comes highly recommended. Other ‘deeply satisfying’ platefuls show off the kitchen’s street-food repertoire, from spicy smacked cucumber to the now-famous stewed pork burger. Portions are exceedingly generous.

An offshoot of Master Wei Xi'an in Bloomsbury, this latest offering from chef Guirong Wei is a short walk from Hammersmith Broadway, on the ground floor of a modern development. Inside, the slate-floored dining room is festooned with lanterns and filled with tightly squeezed tables, while service is super-friendly. We enjoyed thinly sliced pig's ear laced with pleasantly numbing chilli oil and tons of garlic, followed by big bowls of signature Xi'an biang biang noodles with beef and chilli sauce, as well as hand-pulled noodles with minced pork, beansprouts and cucumber – all reasonably priced. To drink there are exotic-sounding cocktails and a handful of wines.

Pavement tables and a terrace overlooking one of the leafier stretches of the King’s Road make this hospitable but urbane Chelsea favourite a fail-safe on sunny days – although there’s also much to enjoy in the long, narrow dining room with its muted colours, distinctive green banquettes, contemporary artworks and blossom-laden artificial trees. Chef/co-owner Joe Mercer Nairne learned his craft at Chez Bruce in Wandsworth and it shows in his fondness for gutsy, full-blooded Franco-European flavours. His signature crab raviolo with leek fondue and bisque sauce is an ever-present delicacy worth savouring, as is the rich duck egg tart with red wine sauce, turnip purée, lardons and sautéed duck hearts. After that, the kitchen stays true to its remit, serving accessible, serious, muscular dishes with bags of finesse: rump of Belted Galloway beef with Café de Paris snails, shallot purée and béarnaise sauce; chargrilled calf’s liver with new season’s garlic, potato galette, crispy bacon, Tropea onion and sherry vinegar; monkfish and squid in partnership with sauce vierge, coco beans and sea aster. The kitchen goes that extra mile when it comes to dessert, fashioning eclectic, multi-part creations such as canelés de Bordeaux with pistachio cream, Argentinian garrapiñadas (sugary caramelised peanuts), tonka bean and spiced drinking chocolate. Similar dishes are available on the flexible fixed-price lunch menu (have one, two or three courses). The wine list is a knowledgeably curated and ever-evolving compendium bringing together the great, the good and the undiscovered from all quarters of the viticultural globe. By-the-glass options are generous (bolstered by top-end Coravin selections), while bottle prices start at £38.

'It felt like I had been transported onto a Wong Kar-Wai movie set,’ quipped an inspector after visiting this three-storey Georgian townhouse. A picture-pretty fantasy trip imagined as the private residence of (make-believe) Empress MiMi – 'keeper of the most revered Chinese culinary secrets' – the venue has been brought to life by the team behind Jamavar and Bombay Bustle. It may seem off-script, with each floor individually designed and bijou spaces to suit different moods, but the result is instantly seductive: ‘We were taken up the narrow stairs into a room that evoked 1920s Shanghai chic – resplendent with floral wall coverings, peachy-coloured leather and Ming-inspired porcelain.' Meanwhile, engaging staff add to the pleasure of eating here. In the kitchen, veteran chef Peter Ho (ex-Hakkasan) takes diners on an 'anecdotal' culinary journey across China, beginning with first-rate dim sum – notably a selection of colourful xiao long bao (presented in a bamboo box), king crab dumplings with Chinese garlic, and sea urchin turnip puffs. From the main menu, two dishes stand out: langoustines delicately wrapped with angel-hair pasta, deep-fried, and cleverly paired with slivers of black Périgord truffle; and a sensational Beijing duck painstakingly prepared, roasted over applewood and carved theatrically at the table. To drink, cool and original cocktails are the go-to libations, although anyone hoping for good-value wines should think again. That said, MiMi's chi-chi glamour, vivacious vibe and high-quality food make it a ‘surprisingly immersive experience’.

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.

The younger sibling of Morito on Exmouth Market, this Hackney Road stalwart has gone from hot ticket to cool venue. Over the years, it's gained a bar and live music spot downstairs, introduced a vegan night on Mondays, and developed a by-the-glass wine list that could detain serious imbibers for days – alongside a line-up of trendy cocktails.

Chef Sevan Tchivitdji’s menu, divided into ‘para picar’ snacks, fish and meat, vegetables and desserts, draws on influences from Spain, North Africa, the Eastern Mediterranean and Crete too. Kick off with a sweet onion tortilla with allioli or beetroot borani with dill and pine nuts, before dipping into the bigger plates.

Chargrilled squid comes with preserved lemon harissa, while roast chicken thigh is gussied up with dried apricot and fava bean purée. And there’s barely a table that doesn’t order the crispy deep-fried aubergine with date molasses and whipped feta (a longstanding Morito signature dish), although roasted spiced squash with chermoula and candied cashews also sounds like a winner. Desserts are mostly reworked classics such as chocolate and olive-oil mousse or custard tarts with crispy filo pastry.

It’s also worth exploring the Spanish-leaning wine list with its sherries and dessert tipples by the glass, as well as the line-up of inexpensive, geographically apposite cocktails such as Aegean Spritz or White Canary. 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.

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

Best New Restaurant 2024

Can Tomos Parry ever put a foot wrong? His follow-up to Brat – and Brat x Climpson’s Arch – has opened with a bang in Soho. There’s a familiar no-frills vibe to the large, light-filled dining room with its very open, fired-up kitchen and sultry, smoky smells. Of course it’s noisy, but that's all part of the tremendous atmosphere, and it matches the straight-to-the-point cooking of broad-shouldered seasonal dishes with Spanish overtones – notably the mar y montaña cuisine of northern Spain and the Balearic Islands. Parry’s pursuit of, and belief in, great ingredients brings a compelling set of flavours to his short, punchy menu, which is dominated by sharing plates – from a spider crab omelette or a dish of wild mushrooms with a runny-yolked egg popped on top to our fantastic opener of beef sweetbreads served with grilled young leeks and shallots, cooking juices and a little pop of acidity from slivers of fresh lemon. We followed with whole red mullet grilled on the bone, with a rich sauce of olive oil and butter spooned over – so simple, so fresh, and absolutely perfectly timed; all it needed was some richly flavoured, ever-so-gently smoked wood-fired rice (a dish that is fast achieving cult status). Sitting close to the kitchen, we could see that the mutton chops, four-year Jersey beef sirloin rib and eight-year Friesian sirloin rib were also doing a roaring trade. Vegetables are less in evidence but not neglected: plates of braised early-autumn veg and beetroot with mountain mint and sorrel were on offer when we visited. We weren’t so impressed by the ensaïmada (a Mallorcan pastry) with hazelnut ice cream, and regretted not ordering the torrijas (Spain's answer to French toast) with blackberries instead. Service is excellent, informed and highly motivated, and the short European wine list is well chosen, with everything available by the glass (from £6).

West London’s magnet for the capital’s Ukrainian population nostalgic for a taste of home, this neighbourhood bistro has the bonus of staff who are remarkably friendly and chefs who happily give a cheery hello and goodbye to all-comers. Ukrainian is very much the first language here, amongst both staff and guests, and the menu is proper Eastern European old-school – from pampushka (traditional fluffy garlic bread), salo (salt-cured pork fat) and varenyk (giant raviolo stuffed with braised rabbit) to staples such as a hearty beef and vegetable borsch enriched with traditional accompaniments and ‘satisfyingly squirty’ Kyiv fried chicken (light on salt, heavy on garlic). Wines centre on the Black Sea region.   

Angela Hartnett's Murano fits its Mayfair environs to a nicety. It's a civilised, expansive, lushly carpeted room patrolled by attentive staff, the muted decorative tone risking no jolts to visual tranquillity. Even the pattern of rolling waves on the walls has a lulling effect. The cooking, hitherto more studiedly Italian in origin than it is these days, opts for assurance and refinement rather than  showy gastronomic effect, with soothing textures (silky purées make regular appearances), gently wrought counterpoints of flavour, and the unarguable quality of prime raw materials. The carte exists in a zone of indeterminacy between the standard three courses and a more taster-like six, according to keenness of appetite, and there is a fixed-price lunch offering too. A mosaic of cured salmon bound with dulse comes with shaved fennel in a bright elderflower dressing with sea herbs. The crumbing and frying of sweetbreads allows the main ingredient a rarely seen integrity here, its texture for once not reduced to something from the fried chicken shop, its accompaniments of carrot variations and toasted hazelnuts in a soy dressing completing a satisfying dish. We might wonder whether the rice-crusted breasts of partridge, together with a slender confit leg, could benefit from a little old-fashioned gaminess, but the accoutrements of cauliflower purée and pickled blackberries make sense, while Scottish venison comes with an array of beetroot, pickled walnuts and a ball of braised venison and pork. Dessert could be something as eye-popping as a broad-beamed mandarin soufflé, stuffed at the table first with orange and Grand Marnier compote, then with pancake ice cream; otherwise, you might gravitate towards the unadorned zesty heaven of the caramelised Amalfi lemon tart. Wines are assiduously well-chosen, with some excellent selections by the glass, though our hankering for a dry sherry revealed there isn't a drop in the building.

The name is the first of many plays on words. Muse is a Georgian townhouse in a secluded Belgravia mews, the latest chapter in the development of inspirational chef Tom Aikens. Step into the tiny entrance lobby, and be enveloped by the refined domesticity of the place, a refreshing alternative to urban grandiosity. The concept, for such it is, draws its energy from various biographical details of the Aikens story – from youthful tree-climbing to some long-remembered maternal reproof. While the narrative structure may weary those who just want to get on with eating something, one can hardly fault the insistence on distinctiveness – especially when the food is distinguished by such ingenuity. An appetiser of sliced scallop comes with cauliflower and grapes at various stages along the spectrum (from dried to partly hydrated), all lubricated by a horseradish-fired ajo blanco of cashews. Presentation tends towards the surreal: a langoustine appears perched on a twig mounted on a porcelain plinth trowelled with lardo and burnt apple purée. The Indian spice repertoire is mined for a dish of skate with a spinach pakora, a cumin-spiked purple carrot and some pickled fennel. For the main course, a dual serving of beef (a braised nugget of short rib and a roast piece of Denver steak) is robustly accompanied by bone marrow, buttered salsify, puréed turnip, chargrilled onion and chunks of braised tongue. Our pre-Christmas visit was sparkled up by a pre-dessert of white chocolate variations, including a pure white bombe filled with mincemeat – a more enjoyable assemblage than the following torched apple-meringue tart and matching millefeuille with a caramel ice-cream sandwich. The opening price point on the wine list is as high as a Belgravian elephant's eye, but quality is of course very fine, and the tasting selections are worth the extra – after all, this is one of the district's more characterful dining spots.

It’s all about the toppings at this rustically charming eatery from Michele Pascarella, dubbed 'the pioneer of contemporary pizza'. The dough is cooked Neapolitan style in a wood-fired oven for a thick pillowy crust and a thin base, while the savoury additions go way beyond the margherita and diavola norm – think intensely savoury ricordi d’infanzia (topped with 24-hour beef-shin ragù and aged Parmigiano Reggiano fondue) or the ‘cheesewick’, which involves Stilton, homemade cherry tomato jam and crispy Parmesan chips. Also expect classic Italian fritti, antipasti and desserts such as maritozzi (Italian cream buns). There’s a branch in Richmond too.

Sited in a Queen Anne townhouse in Holborn, this was the first of the Noble Rot triplets to emerge, and it established the format to perfection. There is a distinguished menu of Anglo-French cooking, there are small-plate snacks in the bar area, a long counter, walls full of appealing prints, and – not least – a wine list that, from teeny taster tots to bottles of the world's finest, coaxes all palates and pockets to try out new things and celebrate the old.

A reporter who knows his black puddings found nothing but admiration for the Christian Parra boudin noir, served here with chicory roasted in port. That was followed by Yorkshire pheasant with soft, positively gooey polenta given textural heft with chestnuts. Another seasoned diner writes that ‘Saturday lunch is my happy place,’ and where better to spend it than on the set menu here, which offers superb value and unforgettable flavours into the bargain?

It might start with something as simple as egg mayonnaise, a perfectly pitched boiled egg in sumptuous, glossy dressing with an assertive mustard kick, criss-crossed with a pair of Ortiz anchovies. Proceed to a dish of morteau sausage on mustard-strafed soupy lentils, and a wodge of the house sourdough to mop up. On the main menu, things get even classier, when Cornish brill in vin jaune with Alsace bacon competes with Swaledale mutton chops and puntarelle for favour. The bistro desserts rise to the stars for crème caramel with Sauternes raisins or the near-perfect lemon tart, ‘just the right side of mouth-puckering with citrus, then sinking into sweet creaminess’.

The wine list, meanwhile, is worth spending a while with: there are glasses of more obscure and overlooked wines among the first battalions, with Coravin selections of those in their finest array to follow on. Choices across the globe are hardly ever less than excellent, and if you're on a splash, there are few better spreads of Champagne in London.

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

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.

Normah Abd Hamid, affectionately known in the local Malaysian food community as 'Auntie Normah' cooks entirely on her own in this bijou, simply furnished space deep inside Bayswater Market. It's not that easy to find but well worth the effort for generous portions of Malaysian hits at low prices. Start with flaky roti canai and dhal before tucking into tasty curry laksa with king prawns or mee goreng. Nasi lemak comes with aromatic beef rendang, and whole sea bass is paired with asam pedas or belachan. No alcohol is served, so drink hot, milky teh tarik ('pulled tea') instead.

When Ombra opened its doors by the banks of the Regent's Canal back in 2011, today’s gentrification was a long way off. Now this former retail site is custom-built for a taste of Venetian-style bacaro cool. Drop by on spec, have a drink and a snack with some fresh bread from the owners’ bakery Forno – whatever you fancy. It's the perfect setting with its edgy but wonderfully whimsical interior design, tinted floor-to-ceiling windows and heated terrace for alfresco socialising.

Chef Mitshel Ibrahim (ex-Clove Club) conjures up some rare inventions, taking his cue from the traditions of regional Italian small-plates grazing, but adding flavours that are all his own – how about Carlingford oysters topped with startling cherry mustard? As for his light and crispy crostino topped with the most translucent home-cured pancetta, it ranks as ’one of the singularly most delicious mouthfuls I have ever tasted,’ drooled an inspector.

Other prize nibbles might range from a ‘cauliflower mushroom’ (sparassis) with Calabrian chilli and egg yolk to cured mackerel tartare with fennel and blood orange, although you must leave room for some silky hand-rolled pasta. Tagliatelle with well-judged anchovy butter and a generous amount of shaved truffle is a ‘triumph of less is more’, while crab tortelloni with crab ragù and hen of the woods brings delicacy as well as flavour to the table.

The menu also includes a couple of heftier ‘secondi’ too (a show-stopping dish of melting sweetbreads in perfectly balanced pea and mint velouté, say), while classic ‘dolci’ could herald panna cotta with poached pears or chestnut and roasted quince semifreddo. Since ‘ombra’ is Venetian dialect for a weeny glass of wine, it’s no surprise that drinkers have a ‘really interesting’ choice of Italian low-intervention tipples to sample. There are cool spritzs and aperitifs too.

Stepping into unprepossessing Oren on a dark night, one is immediately assailed by delicious cooking smells and the sound of music playing. It’s tempting to walk straight out – if only to walk straight back in again to experience the sensory overload anew. Welcome to Dalston (though one might equally be in Brooklyn or Berlin). The name above the door is that of Israeli chef Oded Oren whose food proves as bracing as the ambience. You could stick a pin in the menu and be sure of eating well. At a test meal, we alighted on seven dishes between two, from a selection of vegetables, fish, meat and desserts. Monkfish liver pâté with agrodolce date ketchup lived up to its reputation as the ‘foie gras of the sea’ being both rich yet impossibly moreish. Eight-hour braised cabbage, blackened from the grill, was in its own way, no less intense; date – hello again – brings pleasant sweetness. Then two stuffed pittas, one with chicken thigh, livers and duck hearts (the Jerusalem mixed grill), another with ling anointed with lamb fat, tahini and chilli. Great ingredients given a street-food edge. A warm assembly of chargrilled courgettes, peas and monk's beard demonstrates Oren’s judicious, never gratuitous, use of his charcoal grill. A short list of low-intervention wines and a choice of cocktails for around a tenner (no West End prices here) keep this hip little indie nicely buzzing.

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.

Otto Tepasse is not one to hide his light under a bushel, and why would he? His Gray's Inn Road spot is justly celebrated as a redoubt of French cuisine à l'ancienne, from the black-and-white floor and mint-green walls to the publicity shots of Marilyn Monroe (mais bien sûr), and a culinary approach that reaches far back into nostalgic recall. Order in advance and you can relive the gastronomic heyday of canard à la presse, homard à la presse and Anjou pigeon à la presse (though not all at once to the same table). Even those who haven't thought ahead can be regaled with steak tartare assembled before their very eyes, or calf's brain pané in grenobloise, or coquilles St-Jacques in their shells with beurre blanc. The tournedos Rossini is by no means the only dish to feature foie gras, which is more or less everywhere, while a romantic dîner à deux might turn on a mighty gigot of milk-fed Pyrenean lamb in a glossy jus alive with rosemary and thyme. Boozed-up desserts could easily lead you astray: the baba and pineapple flamed with Jamaica rum; the flaming crêpes Suzette; the Grand Marnier soufflé. Finish with a shot of aged Calvados, but only after testing the bank balance with one of those classic French wines, which ascend gracefully into the four-figure stratosphere.

Textured walls and a striking terrazzo floor add something a bit different to the Chelsea branch of Yotam Ottolenghi’s café/deli group, but there’s no mistaking the familiar white counters, the overflowing displays of cakes and pastries or the bowls of colourful salads and other Middle Eastern-inspired creations. Breakfast and an all-day lunch offer might bring anything from Dutch pancakes or scrambled harissa tofu with sweet potato crisps to roast chicken with ral el hanout, sumac and chilli. A fascinating drinks list includes Coalition beer and natural wines as well as raw, unpasteurised libations from the London Fermentary. Walk-ins only; not open for dinner.

This bustling, shiny white café and deli is where it all started for chef/writer Yotam Ottolenghi. Locals pile in for breakfast but there are temptations aplenty right through the day. ‘They champion such brilliant and unusual flavours,’ notes a fan – from the breads, quiches and vibrant Middle Eastern/fusion salads arrayed on the counter to earthy, spice-infused hot dishes such as grilled lamb kofta with onion squash borani, Aleppo chilli oil and herbs. Tempting displays of cakes and tarts in the window attract passers-by, while the list of low-intervention wines is exemplary. Bookings for dinner only.

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.

An amble through Epping Forest wouldn’t be complete without a refuelling stop-off at this totally unexpected – but immensely popular – seafood shack next door to the Kings Oak (not far from the Visitor Centre). Join the inevitable queues, place your order, bag a seat (inside or out) and wait for your name to be called. Hot and cold seafood ‘tapas’ platters go down a storm, as do oysters on ice and the now-legendary curried mango prawns. We also adore the freshly made bacon and scallop rolls. Get your drinks from the pub and throw your takeaway plates in the bin when you’ve finished.

Given the name, it’s not surprising that a dedicated oyster bar takes centre stage at this personally run seafood restaurant – the product of innumerable pop-ups, festivals and private party gigs. Oystermen's breezy interior was extended a while back, and the premises has also gained some additional outdoor space (a hangover from the pandemic). All-day opening is a boon for Covent Garden’s theatre crowd, who drop by before or after the show for ‘perfect’ oysters, squid salad with anchovy toast (‘beautifully done’), ‘excellent’ skate and more besides. The menu follows the market and rolls along with the seasons, so expect anything from a gratin of Isle of Man ‘queenie’ scallops with chives and lemon or cured sea trout with apple and ponzu dressing to whole ‘undressed’ Dorset crabs, native lobsters slathered in garlic butter with chips or pan-fried stone bass with parsnip purée, wild mushroom sauce and crispy bacon. Working in a 'teeny-tiny' kitchen, the chef and his team also throw in the occasional exotic curve ball such as hake with red curry sauce, baby sweetcorn and crispy kale. For afters, there are ‘delicious concoctions’ including vanilla panna cotta with blackberries and crumble or strawberry tartlet with vanilla custard and basil. Well-chosen, fish-friendly wines are knowledgeably served by efficient clued-up staff. ‘Overall, a pleasure,’ concluded one fan.

* Avinash Shashidhara has announced his departure from the restaurant after a five-year stint. More details to follow.* 

Avinash Shashidhara honed his craft at Claude Bosi’s Hibiscus (RIP) and the River Café but has gone back to his roots at this comfortably relaxed Indian restaurant on the site of the once-legendary Gaylord curry house. Pahli Hill (named after a Mumbai suburb) looks and feels just right, with its glowing lights, fragrant aromas, colourful Indian paintings and woven cane chairs. Limber up with a cocktail or two in the subterranean Bandra Bhai bar before returning upstairs for a menu of regional sharing plates executed with skill, precision and subtlety. Anything from the grill or tandoor is a sound bet, perhaps Cornish monkfish (marinated in mango pickle) with monk's beard, grilled corn and lime or meltingly tender lamb cutlets, spiced with black pepper, cumin and curry leaves – all mollified by a cooling mint raita. Other top calls have included crisp Pondicherry fried squid with pumpkin and Guntur chilli chutney, a gorgeous ‘home-style’ fish curry packed with mussels and halibut, and a dish of Chettinad-style veal shin with black pepper, fennel and chilli, best eaten with some flaky flatbread fresh from the tandoor. Service does its job admirably, and there are plenty of thoughtfully chosen spice-friendly wines to match the food.

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.

Designed with table seating to one side, high-top stools to the other, window seats (for walk-ins) and an alfresco pavement terrace, Will Palmer and Ian Campbell's seafood spot (opposite their 10 Cases Bistrot à Vin) maximises a bijou dining space beautifully. The single-sheet menu lists a satisfying array of small plates and snacks, plus a handful of more substantial dishes, sides and desserts. What the dayboats bring in largely dictates what’s on offer. Two deliveries a day from the coast translates into some superb specialities – perhaps a whole turbot to share, served with mussel beurre blanc and Avruga caviar, or a great hunk of impeccably cooked skrei cod atop Jerusalem artichokes and a lemon beurre blanc – a hit at inspection. Other highlights included potted shrimp croquettes, smoked haddock chowder, and a superb Loch Fyne scallop croque monsieur where the sweet succulence of the bivalve worked beautifully with the rich, buttery, cheesy toast. Welsh rarebit makes an appearance on the dessert menu, alongside a spectacular tart-sweet blood orange sorbet and chocolate mousse with hazelnut crumb. Whites dominate the wine list, which has something to suit every pocket; it's an eclectic selection that encourages veering off the beaten path – although a few more options by the glass would be welcome.

Set up and run by three wine-loving friends, this sociable fun-loving addition to the Peckham scene is equally good for date nights, serious imbibing or a neighbourly midweek catch-up over a glass or two. Inside, all is warm, casual and full of light, with an open kitchen, bar seating and a bevy of casual staff; ‘everyone has a good knowledge of the wine menu,’ observed one visitor. Food is tailored to drinking, so expect a short ‘veg-heavy’ roster of snacks and sharing plates, with vegetable dishes as the ‘outstanding winners’: big, moreish porcini croquetas; fried artichoke with Parmesan cream and serrano ham; roasted cauliflower with red curry and cashews. The chef is Spanish (as you might have guessed), and his repertoire also includes dishes such as ‘really flavoursome’ Basque-style hake with mussels. The 150-bin wine list is a well-informed compendium of bottles from small-scale, eco-friendly producers, with plenty of options by the glass. The owners also run a wine club and an online shop.

This 'modern neighbourhood restaurant’ has fun with the formula. It looks the part – all candlelight, pot plants and terrazzo – but a subversive streak is not far below the surface. Ben Marks cooks the classics, but not as you know them. Consider panisse, lightly battered, cut into nigiri-like fingers with pungent salsa verde and presented on a decorative bed of raw chickpeas; or a take on vichyssoise (served hot in a scuffed metal dish) with punchy lovage as well as the more traditional parsley. The tastiest dish we tried was perhaps the ugliest – a ‘carbonara’ of cauliflower mushroom, its constituent parts (bacon, Parmesan, breadcrumbs) coming together to create a mac ‘n’ cheese/au gratin/carbonara hybrid. ‘Punk’ is perhaps too strong a word for food that’s so pleasurable and big-hearted, but it’s certainly the antithesis of all that is twee, tweezered and tasteful. Marks sources wisely and cooks well. A main course of Devon duck breast, soft and pink, pairs neatly with its celeriac and sauerkraut garnish (the chef can do restrained), while reginette pasta with a hearty ragù of girolles is comforting but unrefined. Desserts are limited to a sorbet and just one proper pudding: we plumped for the full-size prune and damson doughnut, oozing Armagnac cream. Pure Perilla. The tasting menu is the best of the carte, so it's well worth ordering. To drink, choose a wine flight or a bottle from the short, hip all-European list (also ask to see the extended 'single bottle' list). Note that all prices quoted include a service charge; credit to the owners for also flagging it unequivocally on both the menu and the bill.

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.

Planque – or should that be ‘plonk’ – in Haggerston describes itself as a ‘wine drinkers’ club house’ though it’s as unlike the claret-soaked clubs of St James’s as it’s possible to be. Think polished concrete not polished mahogany; mid-century minimalism not turn-of-the-century archaism. While Planque has members paying £880 a year, its French-accented restaurant is open to all. Aussie-born chef Sebastian Myers is the kind of chef other London chefs talk about in reverential tones and we see why. His cooking is restrained yet always surprising. Cured bream is not so unusual but this one’s sliced into thick, sashimi-like slices with a pool of fruity habanero chilli oil. ‘Courgette tart’ is actually four pastry puffs, with a sweet courgette base note lifted by goat's curd and an anchovy fillet apiece. Cuttlefish and risina bean ragoût has the minute beans centre stage, the cuttlefish in a supporting role. A larger dish of guinea fowl borrows an endive and orange garnish from the classic duck dish; if it's good with breast, it's even better with the fatty, juicy thigh. For dessert, gariguette strawberries and brown butter financier come with a mystery ice cream that makes us marvel (blackcurrant stalk, apparently). The wine list speaks to the 'new gen' drinker, those more interested in grower Champagne and cult names from Jura and Beaujolais than in claret (in fact, they have no Bordeaux and only a few Burgundies). Bottles start at £40+ but this is one place you might want to splurge. Service is a little stand-offish; less so, if you're willing and able to talk wine.

It may be inspired by a street-food joint in a defunct movie theatre in Bangkok, but this hot-ticket Thai canteen is pure London – located on the mezzanine of the JKS-backed Arcade Food Hall off New Oxford Street. Inside it’s loud, brash and busy, with an obligatory open kitchen, counter seating, strip lights and upbeat sounds plus close-packed tables covered in cute laminate prints. Service is swift and there’s no hanging around – expect to be moved on if your allotted time is up. ‘Khao gaeng’ roughly translates as ‘curry over rice’ and that’s why most people are here: we liked the muu hong (braised pork belly, soft and aromatic with spices and dark soy) – although the beef shoulder massaman curry and a seasonal sour seafood riff also look promising. Stir-fries hit the mark too, judging by our outstanding sea bream, sitting in a deeply flavoursome spicy sauce heady with kaffir lime leaves, chillies and ‘jungle herbs’. Some new season’s jasmine rice (in a bijou enamel pot) makes the perfect foil for both dishes. To begin, try khao yam (puffed rice with crunchy, tangy vegetable salad, served on paper with 'budu' fermented fish sauce to pour over it, DIY-style). To finish, the ‘young coconut pudding’ presented in a pink bowl with refreshing lychee and coloured tapioca pearls comes highly recommended. The specials board is also worth consulting and big groups can dip into the Deep South sharing menu. For refreshment, Thai-themed cocktails, chasers and iced teas are more inviting than beer and wine.

Famous for its pop-up pitch on Netil Market, Pockets has moved round the corner to a permanent new home on Mentmore Terrace. Nothing else has changed – so expect to queue for its legendary pittas. Founder Itamar Grinberg grew up eating similar in Tel Aviv and brings Londoners the joy of fluffy pockets stuffed full to bursting with freshly fried falafel, cabbage slaw, sumac onions, tomato, parsley, cucumber and fried potato. Sauces include houmous, tahini, red zhug, a herby green version or amba (pickled mango) – all made in-house.

Images: @lilly.eat.world & @londonshared / Instagram

Housed in Apparel Tasker, a sustainable garment factory in Bow, this Italian café is a cosy corner sealed off by glass so guests can observe the production line while enjoying their coffee and cake. Humble home cooking of Italian and Austrian origin is on offer for weekday lunches and a Friday evening supper club. The simple, affordable menu ranges from soups and sandwiches to pizza and pasta. It changes daily, so don't come expecting anything specific  though you might be rewarded with Sardinian wild fennel soup layered with pane carasau and cheese or fettuccine alla romana with chicken offal.

A little slice of French bonhomie in north Oxford, Pompette is not only a godsend for Summertown locals, but also draws in diners who are prepared to undertake a long trip to sample its wares. With its walls emblazoned with artwork, a gorgeous summertime terrace and professional but personable staff, no wonder it is reckoned to be ‘a real gem’. And that’s before we get to the food. Chef/co-owner Pascal Wiedemann spent 14 years shaking the pans in big-name London kitchens (from Racine and Terroirs to Six Portland Road), before bringing his vision of bourgeois French cuisine to the city of dreaming spires. 

His menu is entrenched in the classics (with the odd European detour) and everything is crafted with ‘care, passion and precision’. Lyonnaise ‘cervelle de canut’ cheese dip, soupe de poissons, chalk stream trout with horseradish beurre blanc and onglet steaks share the billing with houmous, sumac and flatbread, cavatelli with datterini tomatoes and pecorino or charred cauliflower with pops of pomegranate and pistachio. French farmhouse cheeses, île flottante, Basque cheesecake and canelés de Bordeaux with salted rum caramel (Friday and Saturday nights only) round off a simple but satisfying offer. 

Alternatively, drop by for authentic French saucisse frites on Tuesday, poulet frites on Wednesday or steak frites on Thursday night, if you prefer; they even do a proper petit-déjeuner from 10am as well as a regular apero hour (5-6pm, Tue-Sat). Pompette is the charming French word for tipsy, so we do need to mention the libations: Ricard, Lillet Blanc, Picon Bière and Normandy cider all get a look-in alongside a list of patriotically French wines – including a big selection from Alsace (the owner’s homeland).

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.

Shoehorned in amid the bustle to the north of Oxford Street, Portland has clocked up nearly a decade already. Its quiet commitment to innovative contemporary cooking may not have made the greatest of waves, but in the opinion of one who enthusiastically returns, it is a haven of 'outstanding quality and consistency'. It feels like a true neighbourhood restaurant, modestly proportioned, with an open kitchen at the back and high seating at the window overlooking the pub opposite. Unclothed tables set an informal tone, the better to showcase the fireworks of executive chef Chris Bassett's exploratory style. Little appetisers might incorporate beef tartare with fermented ramsons and seaweed for a taste of what's to come – namely a range of assertive, colourful, ingredient-led dishes. Vivid green nettle agnolotti feature smoked ricotta, bottarga and Parmesan for true umami lift-off. A bouillabaisse of shellfish comes with rouille, saffron potatoes and apple, before perhaps brioche-crusted pollack and asparagus in truffled hazelnut soubise or mature hogget in Provençal array, with smoked aubergine, courgette, datterini tomatoes and wild garlic. Nor do desserts repine into sticky toffee safety; instead, expect the likes of strawberry and pine-nut dacquoise with tonka beans and elderflower. Wines by the glass (from £8) are truly commendable for their imaginative reach, opening with a Kentish sparkler and motoring through a peppery Sicilian rosato to a clutch of forthright, complex reds. Portland has a partnership arrangement with Château d'Yquem, no less, and three of its vintages – currently the splendid 2011, 2006 and 1994 – are available by the small glass.

When the wind is whistling through Notting Hill, but you still doggedly want to sit outside, the Portobello has a retractable-roof terrace with heaters and blankets, so you can get well bedded in and let the weather do what it likes. It's just one of the reasons this place has such a loyal following, though the benchmark pizzas might have something to do with that too. Properly puffy in texture, the raised edges blistered a little from the wood oven, their toppings are all about pedigree Italian produce – Spianata Calabrian salami, 20-month Parma ham, creamy burrata, buffalo mozzarella, piccante Gorgonzola. A whole one is fairly filling, but if you've arrived with an appetite, there are preliminary pastas such as spaghetti vongole, or paccheri with veal ragù and pecorino, to prime the pump. Simply prepared fish and meat mains are on hand to tempt any pizza denialists, and meals might end with something like bonet – Piedmontese chocolate custard with caramel sauce and amaretto. Get your bearings with the regionally divided Italian wine map that prefaces the list. Prices might seem a bit tough, but there is a serviceable glass selection from £7.50 for house Sicilian blends.

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 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.’

There’s a lot of love for Rambutan, and it’s repaid with interest from the moment you walk through the door of this enticing and immensely likeable restaurant by Borough Market. Chef-owner Cynthia Shanmugalingam was born in Coventry to Sri Lankan parents and her debut bricks-and-mortar gaff is a fond, personal tribute to the old country’s culinary heritage. Natural clay walls, pink-painted brickwork, a green-hued marble counter, tall tropical plants, buffed wood and rattan chairs create exactly the right mood, while sweet-natured, welcoming staff simply add to the feel-good vibe. An open kitchen does its stuff impressively, celebrating the sheer diversity of Sri Lanka's rich, hot and spicy Tamil cuisine: expect lots of curries, sambals and rotis, all underpinned by supplies of prime British produce ranging from Cornish mussels to Dingley Dell pork. As a curtain-raiser, try one of the ‘short eats’ – say, beautifully tender grilled chicken with spicy kalupol (black coconut) seasoning, accompanied by an intoxicating sweet and tangy tamarind/green chilli dip. We were also bowled over by the fried aubergine moju and a curry of red northern prawns, cooked in the shell with yet more tamarind – perfect with a moist, flaky roti. The cooking ‘crackles with inventiveness’, and if you fancy ‘getting down and dirty’, try tackling the whole Dorset crab in a Jaffna-style curry. After that, a mango soft-serve sorbet is all that’s required for cooling off. A dozen wines are supplemented by spicy cocktails, Cornish Harbour lager and kalamansi iced tea.

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.

After a quarter of a century, you could forgive Gordon Ramsay for turning his fine-dining flagship into a culinary jukebox of his greatest hits. Such is his enduring worldwide fame, he’d be assured an audience for whatever he served up. But, apart from the crowd-pleasing signature lobster, langoustine and salmon ravioli that’s been on the menu since day one, the kitchen’s elegant and sometimes playful dishes are resolutely modern. Take a main course entitled ‘100-day aged Cumbrian Blue Grey, panisse, cosberg, pontac’, described by one of the smartly suited waiters as ‘our take on steak and chips’. Despite the long ageing, the perfectly medium-rare piece of rare-breed sirloin had a mild flavour and was oh-so tender, while the garnish (a nugget of beautifully rendered fat) delivered a delicious whack of gamey, savoury funk. The crisp, refreshing cosberg was also a revelation: a cross between iceberg and cos, the lettuce heart was glazed with dashi vinegar and garnished with a multitude of pickled shallot rings, wild garlic ‘capers’, herbs, flowers and tiny croûtons. Its palate-cleansing freshness counterbalanced the pastrami spice-dusted, crinkle-cut panisse chips served on the side, and the umami pungency of their accompanying black-garlic purée. Needless to say, classical saucing is of the highest order here: pickled mustard seeds added welcome acidity to that beef jus and red wine-based ‘pontac’, while brown butter lifted the ‘jus noisette’ served with a roast veal sweetbread to another level of deliciousness. This was our dish of the day – a generous piece of precisely cooked, honey-glazed offal, encrusted with puffed grains and allium buds, all bathed in a velvety macadamia ajo blanco. Heavenly. Everything delights and every single item we sampled was faultless, from an ethereal gougère filled with smoked Montgomery Cheddar (one of a trio of stunning canapés) to a benchmark cherry soufflé with coconut ice cream and a selection of petits fours including a wonderfully full-flavoured, cushion-shaped blackcurrant pâté de fruit. Chef-patron Matt Abé (namechecked on the menu cover) and head chef Kim Ratcharoen are doing a fine job, not just by protecting the jewel in Ramsay’s crown but also by expressing their own highly attractive and accessible culinary creativity. After a decade, it is perhaps time to refresh the intimate dining room's rather dated lilac and grey interior, although it still feels like a special place in which to dine. Regulars may also lament the retirement of charismatic maître d’ Jean-Claude Breton in 2022, but the quality of service remains undiminished and is arguably the finest in the capital (perfectly paced and perfectly judged). We felt like royalty, even when we asked for tap water – which was poured with as much care and ceremony as a vintage Bordeaux. As for the wines themselves, don’t expect to see anything under £50 on the exhaustive and opulent iPad list, although there are some relative bargains that will ensure the bill doesn’t spiral into the stratosphere.

Secreted within the reticulations of a glitzy development between Smithfield and the medieval church of St Bartholomew the Great, the restaurant named in his honour is a labour of sustainable and ecologically conscious love from the team that created Nest (formerly of Hackney, now in Shoreditch). Johnnie Crowe is executive chef, and has established a format to enliven an area of the City that tends to deflate after business hours. The dining room has the spacious feel of a repurposed showroom, with plate glass views of the church. Seats are upholstered in deep fleece, and the atmosphere is one of leisurely progress through a multi-stage tasting menu (10 courses at dinner, including the canapés), which is payable upfront.

When we visited, the seafood hits just kept on coming: langoustine flamed with green serrano chilli; an ingenious shredding of cuttlefish (to resemble noodles) piled into a squid-ink broth and topped with caviar; potted white crab warmly seasoned with Sussex ginger on a bed of soft brown-crab custard. Everything is British, so there is no importing of such fripperies as lemons or chocolate. Instead, contemplate the savoury beauty of a piece of grain-crusted veal sweetbread in a glossy stock reduction split with burnt butter, made gentle with a Halloween-orange purée of autumn squash.

Our main event was grouse shot in Yorkshire, the crown pristinely roasted in juniper twigs, served with preserved plum and pickled loganberry. It was heralded by a serving of the offal (liver and heart prominent) in a porridge of roasted barley. Red kuri pumpkin provided a refreshingly icy pre-dessert, before the clever stand-in for chocolate – a toffee-ish, coffee-ish splodge of black koji (the stuff that starts sake fermenting) with pure milk ice cream.

The wine pairing is worth a punt (£100 in the evening), but be aware that a couple of the selections are expected to do two dishes. Not every match is spot-on, although maître d'/sommelier Luke Wasserman gives excellent vinous bants.

In 2023, Tom Sellers celebrated a decade at the helm of Restaurant Story, a period of sustained excellence that has seen the place propelled into the first division of London dining. However, the striking glass building was closed for the best part of that year to allow for the addition of a second floor (creating a private dining room and terrace), while Sellers took the opportunity to develop other restaurants in London. Normal service has been resumed, albeit with a tasting menu now in the premium pricing league. Step inside and little has changed, unless you venture up to the top floor where the view down Tooley Street is quite something. The entrance remains surprisingly modest, playing on the expectations of diners – the tone is that of all great eating places, a hum of people enjoying themselves. Sellers’ stock-in-trade has always been modernist cooking with a rare degree of refinement; simply factor in a little bit of luxury to increase the special-occasion feel. Standouts abound: a delicate BBQ langoustine tail and crisp-fried claw with a preserved tomato dipping sauce; a seriously fresh nugget of golden-roasted turbot served with white asparagus, a morel stuffed with fish mousse and a rich vin jaune sauce; 14-day dry-aged, glazed duck breast, brought whole from the kitchen for show and tell, then whisked back to be sliced into flavourful, tender pink slices with a dark glossy sauce. While there have been plenty of tweaks, some old favourites remain: the Oreo-like 'storeos', the rabbit sandwich, and the famous story book-style beef-dripping candle. Every gesture sounds exactly the right note, be it the umami hit teased out of a ‘welcome broth’ of fermented lemon and langoustine consommé, or the impossibly light, creamy potato and brown butter emulsion dish that's topped with a generous dollop of N25 caviar (and a side of crisp game chips to scoop everything up), or even the silky agnolotti with soft chunks of pumpkin and toasted milk piled with Périgord black winter truffle. Desserts continue the theme, exploring particular ingredients and extracting contrasting textures – as in a delicate millefeuille (layers of chestnut, apple, white chocolate, cream and rum) served with an almost-savoury Jerusalem artichoke ice cream. Proceedings run at a gentle pace, overseen by a brigade of impeccably trained staff who strike just the right balance between chat and service. The sommelier’s wise counsel is priceless when it comes to navigating the stupendous wine list, which is high on quality.

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.

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.

Originally a Bethnal Green pop-up, Rogues is the production of chefs Zac Whittle and Freddie Sheen, who met while working at Galvin La Chapelle, and found their great minds thinking alike. In due course, they upgraded to this simply furnished but comfortable venue near Cambridge Heath station and set about offering this patch of east London something that is neither reconstructed French bistro food nor conceptual art. The menu is classified into 'bites', 'plates' and 'finishers', with some dishes asterisked for their translation into the components of an all-course tasting menu.

From the snacks, potato rösti topped with prawn, apple and spring onion was 'half prawn toast, half fish and chips, and as enjoyable as both', while another East Asian titbit sees a Maldon oyster dressed in sesame, soy and kombu. From the variously sized bigger plates, there might be wonderfully fresh, clear-flavoured chalk stream trout with chunks of blood-orange, sour cream, dried sorrel and pickled cucumber. When we visited, the day-boat fish was cod 'collar' with agretti in katsu sauce, served with a stimulating side of crudités and almond houmous. 

Meat might be Duroc pork chop in beer-butter sauce, covered in vivid radicchio, and partnered with a plate of asparagus and sprouting broccoli in XO butter with preserved lemon, its savoury and sour punch offsetting the rich meat. As a finale, there are some supremely indulgent desserts, including rhubarb trifle flavoured with magnolia flower and constructed from white-chocolate custard, a shower of pistachios and a topping of whipped cream and puffed rice. 

There are craft beers and cocktails to ponder, prior to a deep dive into a wine list that is sorted into light, medium and full-bodied specimens, with good growers stalking the lines. Our old-vine Chiroubles 2019 from Eric and Pauline Morin reminded us what a joy mature cru Beaujolais can be.

Yotam Ottolenghi's name has become synonymous in recent years with a style of aspirational, but practically doable, cookery writing, thanks to a portfolio of bestselling recipe books and a high-profile weekly presence in The Guardian. His speciality is food that orchestrates the upstanding flavours and spicy warmth of the southern and eastern fringes of Europe and the Levant. In this spacious, appealing venue, with bar counter seating and banquettes in chilli-pepper red, the various culinary influences are brought into exciting synergy. Vegetables are very much at the forefront, producing appetisers such as grilled leeks with pickled walnuts and date/walnut praline, or charred hispi in almond XO, while main dishes include an assembly of grilled carrots, hawaij-spiced greens and lentils, honey-pickled kumquats and crispy garlic. Let anyone dare say you don't notice you're not eating meat. Should you be determined to do so, however, there may be a saddleback pork chop with kohlrabi and apple kimchi. There's fish too, perhaps grilled halibut with curly peppers and capers, seasoned in khmeli-suneli, a Georgian version of five-spice. Close the deal with a fennel meringue, served with lime and pastis sorbet and lemon curd, or a chillied-up cherry and chocolate fondant. The drinks list is an enticement in its own right, with a slate of inspired cocktails, gin variations, and softs such as hibiscus agua fresca or watermelon and rose sharbat.

*The restaurant will be closing for good following service on 8 March 2026, although there are plans to relocate to larger premises in 2027.*

Respectable, dignified and expansive, rather than outright glamorous, the flagship of the long-established Royal China chain is adorned with five private dining rooms, signature gold-leaf and red-lacquer embellishments, and plenty of elbowroom between the heavily clothed tables. The menu covers a lot of ground, offering an impressive selection of seriously priced dishes from the Chinese regions (notably Canton).

The Royal China group is famed for its dim sum, and RCC’s daytime selection offers some of the most dependable in London. As a sampler, try spicy prawn and pea shoot dumplings, taro croquettes with mushroom and truffle or scallop and preserved cabbage cheung fun – and don’t miss out on the sweet morsels (steamed red date buns or coconut moss dumplings with black sesame, anyone?). Otherwise, the menu is big on classic Chinese roast meats from Cantonese roast duck or crispy pork belly to ceremonial feasts such as whole suckling pig (for a whopping outlay of £400).

There are luxurious seafood specialities and live shellfish in seawater tanks too – dip into the upper reaches of the menu and you might find pan-fried king scallops with foie gras, whole Dover sole with XO sauce or a plate of dry-aged abalone at market price (you have been warned). Attentive staff are always on the ball, delivering ‘fast, Chinese-style service at its best’, according one reader. To drink, refreshing loose-leaf teas are alternatives to the international wine list.

A fixture of dining out in the heart of the West End since the time of George III, Rules is now well into its third century of operations. It remains a gloriously unreconstructed monument to British ways of dining, coming into its own particularly during the game season. A diner who knows his birds regretted the seeming obsolescence of the grouse season these days, but was relieved to find a red-legged partridge on the bill of fare in September. A silver pint tankard of Black Velvet (Champagne got up in a sombre coat of Guinness, originally to mourn the passing of Prince Albert in 1861) makes for a satisfying entrée to the Rules experience.

Dishes that have slipped into the heritage category are treated as if they were still the acme of gastronomy – witness the steak and kidney suet pudding freighted with tender succulent beef and intensely flavoured offal (plus an oyster too, if you will), together with another silver vessel, this time a boat of extra gravy. Add sides of dauphinoise and creamed spinach, and satisfaction is complete.

Start perhaps with stuffed mussels replete with garlic and herb butter, topped with breadcrumbs, or one of the daringly modern salads – smoked ham, pomegranate and blood-orange, or beetroot, apple, walnut and blue cheese – the better to enjoy the richness to come. Main-course fish includes a salmon escalope napped with Champagne chive butter, but meat options tend to be the favourites: a ‘cassoulet’ made with rabbit, smoked bacon and black pudding, for example. Treacle tart and orchard fruit crumbles are de rigueur for afters, but flourless blood-orange and chocolate cake shows that not all passing trends pass Rules by.

A deeply traditional wine list opens with a Rhône red and a dry white Bordeaux by the glass. Service, from initial halloo to fond farewell, is impeccable throughout, while the decorative style (complete with glistening burnished wood, classical figurines, old prints and paintings) augments the atmosphere a treat. Be prepared, though, for a steep, narrow ascent to the bathrooms.

If Spanish tapas as a restaurant concept now comes in fifty shades of authenticity, Sabor offers something else again. Nieves Barragán and José Etura draw on the culinary traditions of all corners of Spain, from Castile and Galicia down to Andalucia, in an ingeniously designed – and dynamically popular – venue just off Regent Street. The outdoor queue that has already formed at midday on a Monday for the no-bookings ground-floor Counter, bears witness to the enthusiasm with which Londoners have embraced the idea.

Your orders are marked in pen on the counter before you, and crossed off as they are delivered. Consider the tortilla: toasty exterior, the inside molten but firm, the disc-like shape perfection itself, with neat distribution of filling. On top is a dot of rich but mellow allioli. A flaky-pastried lamb empanada with a little salad is a delicate joy, as is the sweetbread in creamy caper gravy, topped with flawlessly timed fried kale that retains its colour and texture. Elsewhere, grilled red peppers and hazelnuts make a sweet foil to a portion of blue goat's cheese.

The same strong flavours are also boldly applied to fish dishes such as seared tuna with ajo blanco, or the Spanish-Italian fusion of cuttlefish pappardelle with Manchego and pesto. There might be more goat's cheese for afters, blended in an ice cream and sauced with liquorice, but the chocolate bombas are pretty seductive too. Drink Estrella beer, sherry or a couple of the excellent Spanish wines (from £7.50 a glass).

The reincarnation of a similarly named restaurant along St James’s Street, Saint Jacques occupies the space that used to be L’Oranger and more recently, Boulestin. Eating here can feel like a case of déjà vu. It's a beautiful, light-filled room with considerately spaced, white-clothed tables (perfect for enjoying a natter with good wines and food), while the outdoor terrace is one of most attractive in town. The food is unapologetically Gallic, with brasserie staples such as escargots or twice-baked goat’s cheese soufflé appearing on the menu, alongside classics including steak tartare (skilfully prepared on a traditional guéridon trolley). The kitchen also knows how to make familiar ideas interesting: the richness of pan-fried foie gras, for example, is offset by pickled rhubarb and rhubarb jam, while hand-dived scallops are paired with pea purée and ventrèche bacon. Elsewhere, tender rabbit leg is stuffed with a truffle-spiked mousse and partnered by duchesse potatoes and morels, with a rich veal jus helping to amalgamate all the relevant flavours. Desserts are a roll call of classic French greatest hits – how do you choose between tarte tatin, crème brûlée and blood orange soufflé? We plumped for the added theatre – and the boozy, citrussy aromas – of crêpes Suzette flambéed at the table. Food like this is as comforting and reassuring as a warm hug, while staff help to maintain a sense of entente cordiale – although prices reflect the prestige address. With help from next-door wine merchant Berry Bros & Rudd, chef-owner Richard Weiss and his experienced sommelier have developed a wine list with a heavy French accent and some marvellous bottles from Burgundy and Bordeaux, plus a flight of Guigal Rhônes – although the dozen by-the-glass selections offer far less excitement.

Opposite Sam's Larder and round the corner from Sam's Riverside, this corner café is Sam Harrison’s updated version of a greasy spoon. Inside, it’s unpretentiously done out with brown leather and pops of colour, while the menu trades in full fry-ups, pancakes, Brixham crab crumpets, lunchtime salads and satisfying platefuls such as peas on toast with bacon on the side. Breakfast tea comes in a pot with a white porcelain cup and saucer and there’s a small menu of cocktails, wine and beer for those looking to kick-start their weekend. No bookings, so expect queues for weekend brunch.

Sam Harrison’s ‘wow factor’ brasserie has quickly become a local institution, where friends are cherished and first timers are welcomed with arms open wide. It's joyous, buzzy, unpretentious and a godsend for the neighbourhood – especially as the man himself and his wonderfully accommodating staff help to create that special frisson of ‘show and anticipation’. The glorious setting by the river ‘feels a million miles from central London’, while the airy, clean-lined dining room (lots of light and glass) emanates an invitingly civilised glow. There’s also a much-in-demand outdoor terrace and a ‘spectacular’ bar – don’t miss the ‘oyster happy hour’. As for the cooking, seasonality rules and the kitchen is big on provenance, supporting local suppliers and the community (‘they even use ingredients from a farm on a nearby inner-city school,’ observed one fan). The result is a rolling roster of refreshingly straightforward but creative dishes noted for their bold, up-front flavours. Seafood platters go down a storm, but also expect anything from mussels with ‘nduja, spring onion and samphire to lamb rump accompanied by potato terrine, purple sprouting broccoli and wild garlic. Devotees of cheeseburgers, spatchcock poussin and lobster rolls won’t be disappointed, while those who are sweet of tooth can delight in desserts such as buttermilk panna cotta or rhubarb pavlova with lemon curd. Sam’s set menu is one of the capital’s bargains and locals descend in their droves for the terrific Sunday lunch blowout. There are also ‘special wines to discover’ from a well-chosen list offering affordable access and a decent selection by the glass. 

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.

Just a three-minute walk from Hackney Wick station, Douglas McMaster’s zero-waste restaurant is to be found on the first floor of a warehouse overlooking the River Lee Navigation canal. With overground trains trundling in the near distance, it’s urban grit at its most gritty: the unmarked opening in a graffitied brick wall is easy to walk past, while ascending the external metal staircase to the first floor requires a leap of faith – signage is minimal. But for such an unassuming place – the spacious, double-height dining room is done out in a spare contemporary style – Silo packs a major punch. Some say the best seats are at the counter looking straight onto the open kitchen, but if high stools don’t appeal, there is more conventional dining too. What’s on offer is a tasting menu (a ‘short list’ is available early evening and at lunch on Saturday), and while 'low waste' may be the statement of belief, the food is all about sharply delineated flavours with bite from pickled ingredients and combinations that spark the imagination. Umami is the lodestar: a snack of ‘quavers’ made with koji tapioca and spread with a vegetable treacle and goat's cheese set the tone and went very well with a glass of Sylvain Pataille 2021 Bourgogne Aligoté, while a potent hit from inky-black cuttlefish garum offset the delicate sweetness of pencil leeks in leek oil. For the main event, two thick, juicy slices of mutton (the superb flavour enhanced by a hint of wood-smoked char) arrived minimally garnished to enhance the sheer quality of the meat – just a few tiny dots of wild garlic 'capers' and a fabulously rich caramelised cream. Elsewhere, the kitchen mills its own grain for their deliciously nutty Siloaf, while knowledgeable staff are chatty and relaxed. To drink, there are unusual cocktails, house-made soft libations and beers from Crate brewery, plus the option of a curated drinks pairing or something from the short list of 'responsible' and biodynamic wines.

Opened on Fairfax Road in 1983, and a Guide stalwart back in the day, this smartly decked out, family-run restaurant is still ‘packed with expats and locals’, according to one returning fan. Famed as a flag-bearer for Singaporean and Straits cooking, its renditions of pork satay (‘nicely caramelised’) and chilli crab (‘garlicky and spicy’) are among the best in town, although there’s punchy authenticity across the board. Kuay pie tee (little pastry cups filled with finely shredded bamboo shoots and chicken) and ho jien (stir-fried oyster omelette with chives) are worth a punt, as are stir-fried beef ho fun (flat rice noodles) which come with a lovely taste of 'wok hei'. Elsewhere, big bowls of Singapore laksa, fiery squid blachan, beef rendang and rojak (fruit and vegetables tossed in shrimp paste with peanuts and sesame) are bang-on for flavour. The menu also features a raft of Chinese regional staples, ranging from steamed sea bass with black bean sauce to Szechuan crispy chilli beef. End on a rosy note with sago pudding, coconut milk and gula melaka (palm sugar) or ice kachang (shaved ice and red beans, topped with evaporated milk). Prices may be more W1 than NW6, but flavours are true, and service from waitresses in traditional batik costumes is friendly. To drink, 30 tempting cocktails vie with four dozen spice-friendly wines.

Neighbourhood restaurants are all the more valuable in the districts of a sprawling city, binding the immediate community together, but also exercising a magnetic pull to a wider field. Holland Park's Six Portland Road is a classic of the genre, just off the opulent Avenue in a residential street. It's a small space that quickly feels full, but with no undue sense of being cramped; it also exudes warm bonhomie as soon as you step through the heavy drape and hang your coat on the hook. Open every day, it covers all bases with a prix-fixe lunch menu during the week, and diner-friendly Sundays of roasts and crumbles. Charcuterie from Islington's Cobble Lane makes a good appetiser, perhaps fennel salami with cornichons, alongside some buttered soda bread. Brixham crab royale is kitted out with keta caviar, lemon and dill, and served with blackened charcoal crackers – or there might be a warming, mustardy cauliflower soup. Darne of brill is carefully cut, its skin crisped, the flesh flawlessly timed, and the accompaniments a distant relative of cassoulet (including butter beans and fatty breadcrumbs). Teamed with some expertly tempura-style samphire, it's hard to imagine how it could be improved on. From the set lunch comes a plate of morteau sausage with cabbage and beetroot slaw, but also an unexpectedly starry main course of dry-aged shorthorn sirloin, its fat layer virtually crackled, with skinny chips and a pot of mildly herby béarnaise. To finish, there could be carrot cake, invitingly dressed with cream cheese and cracked cardamom, or a rhubarb and almond tarte fine with good vanilla ice cream. A decent wine selection by the glass has some obvious highlights – don't miss the flinty Raimbault Sancerre – but they already had us at aperitif stage when the house Champagne, a Blanc de Noirs from Amyot in the Aube, arrived in rule-busting, old-school saucers.

Fitting seamlessly inside 'London's only craft jean makers' on Blackhorse Lane, Slowburn turns a working industrial backdrop into something quite informal and quite fetching. Walk past rolls of denim and lines of machinery to reach the restaurant tables laid out at the back of the site; expansive windows allow in dappled daylight during the day, while candlelight and hanging light bulbs create a warm, cosy vibe in the evening. There are also trestle tables out front for alfresco socialising on sunny days.

Dining among denim is a novel proposition, but the kitchen backs up its promise with a good-value, vegetable-led menu tuned to the seasons. When we visited it was heralding the arrival of autumn while retaining some fresher ideas reflecting the warmer weather. Depth of flavour and proper savouriness are chef/owner Chavdar Todorov's calling cards, from confit artichoke 'flower' with romesco sauce or black-bean gyoza tacos fired up with a zippy coriander salsa to a main course of Slowburn smoked chicken that was almost impossibly moist and definitely worthy of the name – thanks to a special spicy rub. Moreish roast baby potatoes received similar treatment, while broccoli was partnered by a punchy peanut, sweet chilli and mustard sauce.

To finish, a terrific rendition of apple tarte tatin also warmed us with its autumnal notes, although a rum/pineapple riff with lemongrass caramel sounded exotically enticing. The well-spread wine list includes some useful by-the-glass options for under £10.

Born and raised in one of POP Brixton’s shipping containers, Smoke & Salt now has a permanent home on the streets of Tooting – thanks to a successful crowdfunding campaign (the donors’ names are inscribed on fermentation jars along one side of the restaurant). Stripped-back slate walls and exposed brickwork are standard-issue for an on-trend neighbourhood eatery, but all eyes are on the open kitchen – a ‘constant rush of energy, heat, flames and smoke’. Snacks set the tone for a menu that takes its cue from the restaurant’s name: sweetcorn is grilled ‘to within an inch of its life’ and served with salty miso dip, while just-cooked cauliflower nuggets come smothered in smoked chilli salt and aïoli. Bigger dishes show the kitchen’s flair with seasonal ingredients – perhaps English heirloom tomatoes (seemingly picked ‘at their perfect ripeness’) intertwined with smoked egg yolk, plus a sharp elderflower vinaigrette and a few smoked almonds tossed in for good measure. Or how about a flavour-packed, 12-hour smoked pork chop topped with an utterly mouthwatering apple, sweetcorn and seaweed jam – ‘the best savoury condiment I have possibly ever experienced’.  If you’re sweet of tooth, don’t miss the English plums with hazelnut frangipane to finish. The wine list is short and accessible, but don’t ignore the bespoke classic cocktails ‘touched by smoke and salt’.

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.

* 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’s all about the food at Sollip – a ‘serious and grown-up dining experience’ imagined by the husband-and-wife team of Woongchul Park and Bomee Ki. The restaurant itself is sightly spartan and emphatically serene with lots of authentic detailing (Korean ceramics, woodwork, exquisite floral arrangements) – the perfect backdrop to the owners’ creative vision, which fuses Korean techniques and ingredients (including the rare edible marine algae known as gamtae) with ideas from contemporary British and European cuisine.  

First-timers should get their initiation from the four-course lunch menu, which includes standout offerings such as unbelievably moreish so-tap (a cast-iron pot of rice topped with Jerusalem artichoke jangajji) quickly followed by thin slices of BBQ wagyu beef and a side order of slow-cooked meat, plus perfect accompaniments including baechu (napa cabbage) purée and beautifully seasoned spinach.

Trade-up to the full eight-dish dinner menu and you can expect a plethora of complex and commanding flavours ranging from the signature daikon tarte tatin embellished with kimchi, toasted barley, roasted potato and burnt hay to nurungji (Korean scorched rice) with celeriac and mung bean jelly. Other ideas such as monkfish with red cabbage, onion and passion fruit belie their European lineage, likewise a sweet course of black pain perdu with ice cream, burnt vanilla and pecan. Service is thoughtful and attentive throughout.

The wine list, supplied by Keeling Andrew & Co (of Noble Rot), is stuffed with dream bottles at big-ticket prices, with precious little below £100. However, it's also worth indulging in the delights of the exceptional tea service, with its choice of heady infusions involving the likes of buckwheat, plum blossom, lotus leaf and cacao husk. Alternatively, try the chestnut and honey latte, coffee kombucha or a shot of pine liqueur (Sollip is Korean for pine needle).

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. 

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

If you don’t have the time or the inclination for the full-dress Restaurant Story experience, this casual offshoot should fit the bill. Tom Sellers’ Story Cellar has a reputation to uphold and it does the job – thanks to chef Robert Homer, who has moved from Dovetale to oversee the modern brasserie menu, and ebullient Kevin Orsat who leads the personable, attentive and genuine staff. The sleekly designed space is an ‘all-round winner’, with the theatre of an open-fire kitchen (plus stool seating at the counter and window) adding to the sense of in-place vitality. It's not hard to see why it has accrued a strong following.

Start with the rich, sumptuous snail 'bolognaise' with parsley butter on toast – nearly everyone was ordering it the night we were in. Either that or a special such as mackerel escabèche. Dry-aged pork chop with brandy-pickled dates or mussels in ‘Story’ cider are popular mains, but we have always found the rotisserie chicken irresistible – especially as it comes with its own rich gravy, a beautifully dressed house salad and crisp French fries. A full-flavoured steak (perfectly rare) with frites and sauce Diane is another standout choice.

Pace yourself, for desserts should not be missed: ‘the bread and butter pudding is like a bowl of warm hugs,' and we were mightily impressed by a delicate mint Viennetta soft serve studded with shards of rich dark chocolate. The extensive, insightful wine list invites exploration, from iconic classics to esoteric artisan discoveries. Prices are top-end but you can drink regally by the glass; there are some alluring cocktails, too.

If you hanker after top-quality sushi while waiting to secure a reservation at the ever-so-hard-to-book Endo at the Rotunda, a worthy alternative is Sumi in Notting Hill – less choreographed than its more illustrious sibling but serving dishes that are much more than outtakes. Housed in a bright, convivial space in an affluent neighbourhood, the dining room has been reconfigured since our last visit – the seating has been increased and the room unfussily decorated with pale wood and grey banquettes, while cooking takes place in an open kitchen to one side. Outdoor tables under parasols are also worth knowing about when the sun shines. Instead of Endo's highly personalised omakase, Sumi's diners get to choose from a carte, which is neatly divided into starters, sashimi, nigiri, temaki rolls, robata grills and gohan rice bowls. On the evidence of our latest visit, new head chef Christian Onia seems to be getting most things right: a garden salad (10 different vegetables brought to life by a wasabi wafu dressing) had a perfect balance of crunch and sweetness, while the robata grill helped to magnify the delicate nutty flavour of an Ibérico 'secreto' cut of pork, invigorated by the gentle heat of a yuzu kosho dressing. However, top-quality raw fish is the lynchpin here, from nigiri of rich chutoro (medium fatty tuna) or silky sea bass to fabulous temaki hand-rolls – say soft, creamy diced scallop with shiso flowers and soy. Staff are enthusiastic, and the drinks list runs from exotic cocktails and sake to some 18 wines (from £35), all of which are available by the glass (from £9).

If Supawan's food wasn’t so thrilling, the best thing about it would be the welcome. Occupying an unassuming spot on Caledonian Road, just a brief stroll from King's Cross, owner (and executive chef) Wichet Khongphoon has made happiness and good food his raison d’être: his motto – ‘eat well, live well, be happy’ – is fully embraced by the staff. To accommodate a longstanding, loyal following, the colourful, casual dining space expands at night to include the florist's next door (under the same ownership). The menu features a broad roster of regional Thai dishes, from laab to tom yum, but is quintessentially rooted in the cooking of southern Thailand. Alongside plenty of seafood and fiery salads (vibrant green mango with dried shrimps, cashews and peanuts, say), there are street-food classics such as stir-fried morning glory with chillies and garlic or slow-cooked pork belly, a speciality from Phuket, where the chef grew up; we also recommend ordering his ‘dad’s beef curry’ with roasted coconut and pea aubergine. Other powerfully aromatic curries won’t disappoint heat-seekers, and there’s plenty for vegans – the silky, umami-laden laab aubergine is a highlight. Temper the heat with a serving of ice cream (black sesame or coconut) to round things off. The kitsch cocktail list is a giggle and there’s a short list of spice-friendly wines.

The 10 Cases is so named because owners Will Palmer and Ian Campbell buy just 10 cases of each listed wine on their 23-bin list – all offered by the glass, carafe and bottle (from around £33) – then don’t stock it again when it's all sold. However, this is no spot for cult producer fanciers chasing the rarest Burgundy or for those who just want to glug cheap plonk; it's somewhere for those who want to drink well for not too much money and embrace quality wines slightly outside the norm – we sampled a bottle of 2014 Morgon Les Charmes from Château Grange Cochard, a richer, modern style of Beaujolais. All in all, it’s a crowd puller. The place is also billed as a neighbourhood Bistrot à Vin, with a menu of simple, affordable French classics – perhaps smoked duck breast with rémoulade and candied walnuts or steak frites with peppercorn sauce – all served against a pitch-perfect backdrop of small tables, warm, low lighting and white walls covered with blackboards listing wine and food. We kicked off with a trio of small plates: blistered Padrón peppers hot from the fryer and dusted in rosemary salt; cod cheeks in a light, crisp tempura-style batter sprinkled with chilli and spring onion and served with a sweet, smoky, spicy vadouvan mayo; and a bowl of bacon-rich, creamy rillettes topped with cornichons. Next up, a whole roasted pork T-bone chop (for two to share). This was carved into slices alongside the bone and served with a wonderfully intense meat sauce, light and creamy celeriac purée and two halves of roasted apple – plus two huge slabs of confit-style potatoes layered with roasted onions on the side. To finish? Panna cotta with pistachios, and treacle tart with crème fraîche. Next door is the Cave à Vin wine bar, which is for walk-ins only.

Since opening its doors back in 2003, the laid-back Anchor & Hope has maintained strong pub credentials, making it a great, buzzy bolthole for drinkers and diners alike  – and offering something completely different to the chain restaurants in the immediate area. Indeed, when it comes to food, 'it's definitely still the place to go post-Old/Young Vic if you can get in’, advises a reporter, adding ‘it would always be my choice in the area.’

Comfort levels are basic, but diversion comes in the form of views into the busy kitchen, where seasonal ingredients feature heavily on the short daily menu. It’s a zesty assortment of dishes, the tone set immediately by the likes of a couple of hand-dived Brixham scallops teamed with green tangerine, capers and mint, or a three-cheese and hazelnut soufflé with winter chanterelles and radicchio.

Braised wild venison Provençal with spätzle and Parmesan, or seven-hour lamb shoulder with preserved lemon, cumin, tomatoes and gratin dauphinois (for two), are just a couple of comfort-zone main courses the kitchen does well, followed perhaps by quince and almond tart with clotted cream. There’s a worker’s lunch, too, starting at £11 for one course, and a reasonably priced European wine list with a good choice by the glass or carafe.

Opened in 2016, this Neal’s Yard champion, a sibling of the Palomar, continues to draw a savvy, cosmopolitan crowd who crank up the decibels. The dining room is a mix of distressed, whitewashed brick, petrol-blue woodwork and moody lighting, all dominated by a horseshoe-shaped bar surrounding an open-to-view kitchen. Sounds and wonderful aromas fill the room, but it is the cooking from North Africa's Barbary Coast that really plays to the gallery. Blended with Mediterranean and Middle Eastern influences, it comes full of interest and flavour – if you like lemon, garlic, coriander, chilli and yoghurt, you’re in the right place. Driven by unfussy execution, the wood-fired oven and grill inspire many dishes, perhaps a wonderfully rich pata negra pork neck, or wondrous chargrilled cauliflower strewn with coriander seeds, or flavour-punching black dukkah-crusted salmon. Breads, served piping hot, are not be missed (especially the naans and Jerusalem bagels): try them with one of the special dips, say muhammara (walnut and roasted red pepper) or za’aluk (creamy spiced aubergine and tomato). Finish with a syrupy baklava, or a version of tiramisu made with tahini. The multinational wine list opens at £29.

You’ll find it in the alleyway leading into Neal’s Yard, a tiny corridor of a restaurant seperated from big brother The Barbary by a dividing wall. The format is counter seating only (some bookable, some reserved for walk-ins) with engaged, friendly servers giving good advice on the brief menu of bright North African and Middle Eastern small plates. Begin with bread, perhaps a pillowy, sesame-strewn Afghan khobz served piping hot from the oven with matbucha – a sweet-spicy dip of red peppers, tomato paste, smoked paprika, chilli, olive oil and garlic. Follow with a fresh, crunchy Turkish cucumber salad and a dish of slow-cooked lamb, tender and sweet, accompanied by a heap of salt, cumin and a small bowl of labneh for added flavour. Otherwise, try a warming butter bean stew with smoked paprika or lubina chermoullah (sea bass with coriander, chilli, garlic and preserved lemon). After that, sfenj – a light Maghrebi doughnut, sprinkled with sugar and served with a melted chocolate dip – is a deeply satisfying, if filling, finish. The wine list opens at £33 with a better-than-average French Gamay and a Sicilian Inzolia.

Adam Symonds and Rob Tecwyn (former head chef at Dabbous) met while working at north London's Bull & Last, and The Baring is their personal take on a modern urban hostelry. Their aim to provide great food and drink in a no-fuss, relaxed atmosphere sets the standard for what a neighbourhood dining pub can and should do, offering a simple yet elegant interior that matches the straight-to-the-point cooking perfectly. It’s effectively a very successful contemporary bistro with the option of eating at the bar or at well-spaced plain tables. The short-choice carte (plus a blackboard special) reveals a zealous enthusiasm for properly fresh ingredients, with a winter dinner delivering full-flavoured and appealing Rhug Estate venison with smoked beetroot and parsnip latke, as well as roasted guinea fowl breast and a sausage of the leg partnered by hispi cabbage, grains and a rich gravy. There’s been praise, too, for a chalkboard lunch special of beef sirloin focaccia with salsa rossa, while everyone agrees that the undisputed showstopper is the (never-off-the-menu, we hope) quail shish, which comes with a dollop of garlicky yoghurt and a pool of pul biber (aleppo) chilli oil. To finish, there could be buttermilk pudding with rhubarb and oats, a steamed plum sponge with cold custard or Beaufort cheese and chutney. Service comes with a warm, light, friendly touch and the food’s full-frontal vigour is matched by a gutsy, mainly European wine list.

From the Cubitt House group, this transformed Mayfair pub comes across as a genuine local, refreshingly free of affectation and resolutely faithful to its pub roots. The impressive ground-floor bar has held on to its darkly varnished wood and etched glass, packing in drinkers for pints of proper beer and a bar menu offering the likes of hot meat buns or sausage rolls with homemade brown sauce. However, the real action takes place upstairs in an intimate, richly decorated dining room. Here chef director Ben Tish and head chef Chris Fordham-Smith's influences are to be seen, their talents and food-loving instincts delivering high-impact, no-nonsense British cooking. It’s a clear-sighted, thoughtful approach that pays dividends all round, from starters of steamed cockles (with parsley butter), a house terrine en croûte or brown crab rarebit to desserts such as baked Alaska (for two) and sticky toffee pudding with salted caramel sauce. In between, the kitchen applies a respectful approach to top-drawer ingredients: native-breed beef pie with mash and parsley sauce; an exemplary free-range roast chicken, served with sage and truffle butter; a daily roast of rare-breed meats (the real deal). There’s an inspired cheese selection too, and wine is taken seriously – expect a thoughtful selection that accommodates all depths of pocket.

Named after an emblematic symbol of Buddhist Thai culture, Peckham’s ever-buzzing Begging Bowl has been feeding crowds of noisy locals since 2012 and continues to pack ‘em in. The restaurant’s all-weather outdoor space is a big draw, and they now take group bookings too. Kiwi chef/co-owner Jane Alty trained under Thai gastro-guru David Thompson and her regularly changing 12-dish menu is underpinned by directly imported ingredients and supplies of British produce; the kitchen also has its own coconut press. Tapas-style sharing is the name of the game, although staff are keen to upsell and we ended up with much more food that we could possibly eat. Despite the occasional misfire there is much to enjoy here. A salad of chargrilled beef rump is pointed up with mint, coriander and roasted rice (tip: use the whole leaves for wrapping), while a green curry of guinea fowl, palm hearts, Thai aubergines, pungent krachai (fingerroot) and sweet basil is well balanced and downright delicious. Also don’t miss the deep-fried whole sea bass with physalis, green mango and tamarind – crisp, sweet, spicy and flavourful. Dishes tend to arrive randomly (not always the best way) and everything is accompanied by ‘limitless’ quantities of jasmine and sticky rice. There are some uncommonly good desserts too, notably the ‘rice tea jelly’ with coconut cream and nectarine granita, and the kitchen’s spin on affogato – Vietnamese espresso with condensed milk ice cream. Staff are welcoming and enthusiastic, although service veers erratically from over-attentive to forgetful. To drink, the Thai lemonade is immensely refreshing; otherwise, Asian-themed cocktails, beers and spice-friendly wines do the trick.

A country pub with rooms – and more than a little 'town polish' – the Bell Inn speaks clearly of its Cotswold village location both in its clientele and its ability to put a posh Sunday roast on a scrubbed table. Small plates (say buttermilk fried chicken with aïoli) also impress. A resident pizza oven is another strength, so expect anything from flatbreads topped with garlic, parsley and bone marrow to full-blown pizzas with mushrooms, truffle and basil. Steaks, calf’s liver with mash or fish and chips complete the food offer. 

‘A fantastic place in the gorgeous countryside,’ is one fan's verdict on this bonny 17th-century thatched pub with rooms, reached down narrow wooded lanes. Renovated and reopened in 2017 by local landowners (the Phillimore Estate) and run by a team who also operate two nearby pub-restaurants, the Bottle & Glass has strong roots in the neighbourhood. Its two bars – one for drinkers (with real ale), the other uncommonly cosy (wood-burner, beams, chesterfield sofas and all) – take up most of the original building. In the rear extension are two new but sensitively designed dining rooms, with wooden flooring and modern art on white walls. In summer, the extensive grounds come into play, with wood-fired pizzas and an enormous, corrugated-iron 'burger barn' as options. On a late-winter visit, the very brief carte (steaks but no vegetarian main course) was outshone by an excellent-value fixed-price deal: £23 for three courses (and at least three choices per course) including a glass of house wine. Yes, robust flavours sometimes trump culinary finesse, but presentation is neat. A hearty bowl of ham hock ‘goulash’ with strands of meat, potato chunks and a large gherkin made an enjoyably rich, salty opener, while smoked mackerel pâté with dill sour cream was lifted by excellent home-baked soda bread. And if a main course of roast skate wing was a mite overdone, its accompanying Jerusalem artichoke velouté packed a pleasing punch. Local meat often takes centre stage: our stew of fallow deer (from the Phillimore Estate) complete with a pastry lid made a fine pairing with braised red cabbage – though sides of mash and kale gave welcome relief from the powerful flavours. Best pud? The apple strudel takes some beating: a plump, cinnamony oblong with light pastry and vanilla ice cream. The carefully curated wine list and first-rate service are further incentives to brave those rustic little lanes.

Just steps away from Hampstead Heath and originally built as a coaching inn in 1721, the recently restored Bull & Last still knows how to feed its customers well. It’s pitched just right. While the studied neutrality of the decor is gloriously juxtaposed with a plethora of taxidermy, its broad roster of menus – curated to evoke pubby nostalgia, yet pitched a good few notches higher – elevates the most familiar dishes. From lunchtime Scotch eggs, 'sandos' and fish and chips to Sunday roasts, everything is built around top-drawer ingredients, assured cooking and creative tweaks. 

Buttermilk fried chicken with aïoli is a popular opener, ahead of pan-fried king scallops with a silky, tangy apple purée – deftly cooked and lightly burnished, with a verdant Catalan-style picada. Onglet (skirt steak) can be notoriously hard to cook, but here it is rare and as tender as can be, with ample char and a textbook béarnaise sauce on the side. Although the kitchen excels at meat and game cookery and often champions less obvious cuts, there are always plenty of veggie alternatives: tenderstem broccoli and wild nettle risotto with sheep’s ricotta and hazelnuts for dinner, perhaps, or wild herb gnudi for lunch..

To conclude, there’s almost always a baked or steamed pudding, a panna cotta, and a generous cheeseboard. And we thought the two-course set lunch menu was a steal at £20. The Europe-centric wine list homes in on producers with a minimal intervention ethos; otherwise, check out the roster of British craft ales (especially from the booming London scene).  

*Sally Abé left the Bull on 7 January 2026 to pursue a new project.*

The Public House Group (the Pelican, the Hero, the Hart et al) is fast becoming the last word in pared-back cool contemporary British pubs and this Cotswold outpost is a model of its kind. Owners Phil Winser and James Gummer grew up around these parts and cut their drinking teeth in the Bull (which has stood on the corner of Sheep Street since Henry VIII was taking wives). Together with Olivier van Themsche, they've retained an atmospheric air, with low raftered ceilings, welcoming fires and the flicker of pillar candles throughout the flagstoned bar and dining rooms.

With Sally Abé in post to lead the kitchen, there’s just the right dose of finesse cutting through the line-up of contemporary pub dishes. Start with some warm soda bread to bolster the lightness of ‘mackerel, tomato and lovage’ or mushroom and chestnut soup; otherwise, head straight to a heartier Bull pie or pork chop charred on the grill. On one recent visit, a dish billed simply as ‘farm salad’ proved a flavour-flaunting textural medley of green beans, courgette, fresh peas, and crushed and whole-roasted hazelnuts. Delicious simplicity continues right through to desserts such as pitch-perfect chocolate mousse and apricot frangipane tart.

Wednesdays might bring steak night and the otherwise absent chips to the table, while the beautiful garden plays host to summer BBQs. An enterprising list of cask ales and speciality ciders competes with the adventurous wine selection (fleshed out with a weekly changing list of single bottles).

‘Our local’ noted one reader proudly. For anyone with misgivings about pubs with restaurant inclinations, this urban hostelry should set you straight. As befits a sibling of Southwark’s Anchor & Hope, Stoke Newington’s Clarence Tavern, and the Magdalen Arms in Oxford, the Canton Arms is fully committed to its role as an old-fashioned city boozer. Low-lit and friendly, there’s pretty much a 50/50 split between drinkers knocking back pints of real ale in the front bar and diners in for some consistently delicious food in the dining area at the back.

Ingredients are seasonally spot-on, with the daily changing menu delivering anything from labneh with walnut and pomegranate dressing or crispy blood cake with homemade quince jam to roast hake with crab bisque, steamed potatoes and gremolata or duck confit with Puy lentils. After that, there might be bread-and-butter pudding with praline sauce, which was recently reported as ‘something I dream of weekly’.

It’s all considered good value, and that includes the line-up of drinks, which range from an ‘amazing’ selection of real ales on rotation and an impressive list of classic cocktails to a perfectly judged European wine list.

Stripped back in terms of both decor and dining, this Stoke Newington sibling of the Canton Arms and The Anchor & Hope is the embodiment of everything you’d expect from a London dining pub. Straightforward, concise cooking from Harry Kaufman’s kitchen puts quality ingredients at the heart of things and lets them sing for their supper. In a salad starter, rich, unctuous confit duck is paired with fresh leaves, crisp radish and buttery broad beans, while a plate of chicken livers on sourdough toast is a bear hug of a dish, with the huge earthiness of the offal and cooking liquor balanced by the spicy tang of wild garlic. To follow, more ramsons – this time as a light, bright, herbal sauce served over homemade cavatelli and dressed simply with sharp, salty pecorino. Elsewhere, braised rabbit is sweet, succulent and served on the bone, with crisp saffron potatoes soaking up the gamey broth beneath. Desserts are as classic as treacle tart and chocolate mousse. The tart is tar-sticky, loaded with dark sugar and a slight bitterness, while the silky sweetness of the mousse is tempered by the savoury crackle of crumbled peanut brittle, and a big, milky dob of crème fraîche. To drink, there are all the beery trappings you’d expect of a proper pub, and a wine selection you wouldn’t. A sprawling list leans heavily towards France and Italy and rarely leaves European soil, featuring a dozen or so options by the glass and a similar number of magnums, should a casual dinner need to turn into a grand occasion. An inviting, satisfying local, with a hearty menu to match.

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.

Take a peep into the Coach and you might be misled. This 'welcoming and friendly' town-centre venue – one of four Tom Kerridge establishments in Marlow – still has all the trappings of a bustling boozer. There’s attractive green tiling on the walls, a fine choice of local ale on the handpumps, seating on red leather banquettes or bar stools, and even a few TV screens (on mute) tuned to sports channels. However, it's the food that takes precedence – and classy food at that. Tables can only be booked on the day (apart from weekend breakfasts, when it's walk-ins only). Try to bag a seat near the open kitchen, where head chef Sarah Hayward creates a repertoire of small-plate dishes that arrive as and when they’re ready. A velvety little helping of watercress and Jersey Royal soup might kick things off in summer, served with a wondrously light Parmesan-topped cheese scone with ham-hock butter. Likewise, mushroom ‘risotto’, topped with more Parmesan, had an intensity born of culinary skill and training. It also revealed Kerridge’s low-carb convictions, with slivers of mushroom taking the place of rice (and there’s no bread on the menu). An inspection meal continued with highs and lows: half a barely cooked hispi cabbage with a salad cream and pork-puff topping was surpassed by roasted sea bass with cockles, saffron potato and a mouth-wateringly savoury bouillabaisse sauce. Flair was most evident when it came to dessert: a sublime choux bun arrived with a creamy yet tangy filling of mango and coconut (the accompanying custard-like pineapple rum sauce was scarcely needed), while a rich chocolate and orange sponge with chocolate sauce was enhanced by the bitter notes of marmalade ice cream. To drink, the pithy wine list holds much of interest (including whites from Syria, Greece and Norfolk) and there’s a short selection of inventive (if pricey) cocktails too. Service from polite young men is well-meaning, though a few extra training sessions wouldn’t go amiss. Nevertheless, it’s the bonhomous vibe that keeps this Coach on track.

As a sensitive and family-friendly re-imagining of an old pub, it seems that owner Christian Arden has got this place finely tuned to the local neighbourhood – with excellent service to boot. The spacious bar/dining room is understated, filled with light from huge windows, backed up by a few pavement tables to the front and a large, walled sun-trap garden to the rear. It’s just the sort of place where folk feel comfortable dropping in for a pint, a cocktail or something from the decent selection of wines by the glass, before deciding to make an evening of it with dishes from the appealingly short menu. A springtime visit yielded satisfying pub staples ranging from reassuringly cheesy cauliflower croquettes to an old-fashioned chicken forrestière with hispi cabbage and new potatoes, alongside specialities with a Mediterranean slant. A bowl of pea soup with mint, lemon and 'nduja oil was a generous portion, as was sea bream (crispy on top, meltingly flaky underneath), served with cauliflower purée, pickled apples, kale and brown shrimps. To conclude, a classic tiramisu was everything it should be. The garden comes into its own in summer, when the pizza oven is turned on.

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’.

Are Oisín Rogers, Charlie Carroll and Ashley Palmer-Watts champions of a new era in pubs? The Devonshire is certainly one of the most enjoyable places to eat in the capital – if you can get in (far too many people want to eat here). Yet it looks set to become an institution – and long may it continue, for this is no ordinary pub. Ingredients are impeccable and the strong meat-focused menu serves the kind of dishes you want to eat, especially in the lively environment of a central London watering hole where drinkers have their own space and staff are noted for their relaxed expertise. Dining rooms are divided between the first and second floors where, under the direction of Ashley Palmer-Watts (formerly executive chef at Dinner by Heston Blumenthal), the kitchen applies a certain simplicity and accuracy of cooking to impeccable ingredients.

Flames are at the heart of the operation, with wood-fired Ibérico pork chops, lamb cutlets, fillet, ribeye and T-bone steaks (plus lobsters) keeping company with the likes of lamb hotpot or beef and Guinness suet pudding on the hand-scrawled menu. Three wonderfully meaty scallops, lightly roasted, served in the shell with nothing more than a buttery, vinegary sauce and strips of crisp bacon, is a terrific opener that hammers home the kitchen’s modus operandi – namely sourcing prime ingredients and treating them with the utmost simplicity. And there’s something deeply comforting about a fixed price, no-choice lunch that can deliver real quality and value in the shape of prawn and langoustine cocktail, skirt steak with excellent chips and béarnaise sauce, and light, luscious sticky toffee pudding – all for £29.

Sunday's roast ribs of beef carved from a silver-domed trolley are terrific value too and have helped restore the tradition in this part of town. To drink, everyone orders Guinness – it’s fast achieving cult status here – and you can drink well without breaking the bank from the mainly European wine list. The pub now has its own 40-cover rooftop terrace for fine-weather dining (note that you can't book this separately). 

Sam and Georgie Pearman continue to build on their reputation for creating cool, country house-style inns. At the former Plough, a substantial, stone-built 17th-century pub in a bucolic west Oxfordshire village, they have got it right from the start, providing all the warmth, atmosphere and chic rusticity you could wish for – with positive, approachable service and a keen eye for seasonality added to the mix. The Duke is a strong draw even on the bleakest of midweek nights. Local families come for a pub meal in the large, woody bar area (well-stocked with local ales), couples head for a table in the dimly lit, intimate dining rooms (perhaps by a smouldering fire), and friends chew the cud under venerable beams and portraits in oils – or sit on stools at the chefs’ counter by the open kitchen. Unless, of course, it’s a warm summer’s day, when the garden terrace is a magnet. The same menu is served in the bar and restaurant. A recent spring meal began with snacks in the bar (goat’s cheese, wild garlic and honey flatbread; wood-fired aubergine and miso dip) before moving to the dining room for Evesham asparagus with sheep’s yoghurt and pistachio followed by wood-fired cod with smoked velouté, baby gem, peas and broad beans. Elsewhere, readers have praised a well-flavoured little portion of tender beef tartare under a mound of Parmesan, as well as a mouth-wateringly succulent log of (boneless) bacon ribs, neatly matched with a tangle of crunchy, shaved fennel slaw. Steaks are a forte and appear in various guises, including hefty 1kg porterhouses for £95. Our visit ended on a high note with a forced Yorkshire rhubarb pavlova with blood-orange curd (an expert balance of sweet and zesty). The drinks list offers plenty of joy – from a varied, mostly Old World wine selection (including English labels and ample by-the-glass options) to house cocktails, bottled English ciders and even a couple of meads.

Visitors to this recently refurbished Cotswold village pub are urged to 'take a walk round our garden to see what we grow’. Now in the hands of chef Hendrik Dutson-Steinfeld and his wife Julie, this set-up reflects the couple's strong commitment to locality and seasonality. After perusing the organic kitchen garden, and strolling past the little duck pond and terrace, you’ll enter the smart rustic interior (polished wooden tables, beams, exposed stone walls, a wood-burning stove) to find a menu where all the main ingredients have their provenance and food miles listed. Choose from the good-value set lunch, a 12-course tasting menu or the carte, which kicks off with a hunk of home-baked bread and home-churned butter plus a little appetiser. Next, there might be mouth-wateringly delicious beer and Cheddar soup (tasting like liquid Welsh rarebit) or a scrupulously described ‘cured retired dairy cow fillet’ that has travelled 37 miles from its farm – the latter slightly overwhelmed by a full-flavoured mound of grated Old Winchester cheese, but well-matched with mustard leaves from the garden (‘0 miles’). While there’s always a vegetarian option along with the occasional fish dish, local meat dominates the main courses. And very good it is too, judging by a serving of succulent chicken poached with wild mushrooms, which came with a pot of deeply savoury and nutty ‘heritage grains’ cooked in chicken stock. Likewise, pork belly was expertly roasted (juicy flesh, crisp crackling), its fattiness countered by a tangy apple sauce and piquant savoy cabbage preserved in apple vinegar. Indulgent desserts provide further evidence that ‘locality’ does not equate with ‘worthiness’. Our aromatic hay custard with caramelised milk crumble and honey/buttermilk ice cream engendered lots of smiles – as did the friendly, prompt service and a well-spread wine list with almost everything available by the glass.

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.

Lest anybody think it is the fate of Little Coxwell to languish in the shadow of its fully grown sibling, Great Coxwell, less than a mile away to the west, we have two words for them: the Eagle. Serving local farmworkers since Edwardian times, it has now spread its wings to embrace a more far-flung constituency, with a handful of guest rooms providing extra amenity. Marcel Nerpas heads up the kitchen, when not writing an entertaining blog on the website, and while his cooking is in the recognisable village pub style, it is distinguished by its commitment to hearty generosity. A pistachio-studded duck liver pâté comes with cardamom pear, as well as brioche, or you might begin with a fully loaded fishcake, built of cod, salmon and prawns, with celeriac rémoulade. Rabbit pie is a country dish if ever there was one, a sturdy edifice of meat and roots in crunchy pastry casing, while the vegetarian main could be homemade gnocchi with roasted squash, mushrooms and Parmesan, aromatically dressed in white truffle oil. Variously topped tarts await at the finishing line – lemon meringue, salt caramel and chocolate, tatin – or get stuck into a rice pudding with Armagnac-drenched prunes. Beers are well-kept and the wine list does its job. 

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).

A restaurant that can tempt people out in the grim chill of February ('we have been coming here for 20 years, and it's always amazing') certainly has something going for it, and our wires are reliably abuzz with the French Table's satisfied customers. Nor is this simply heritage bistro cooking; it also has a vigorous contemporary style that people find convincing. Having sampled charred Cornish mackerel with salt-baked beetroot, beef fillet with glazed ox cheek, and a dessert of dark chocolate fondant, one reader reckoned that the kitchen never missed a beat. Eric Guignard remains in pole position but with Richard Giles now installed as head chef – a promotion from within the team to ensure continuity as well as the expected flair. In the evenings especially, the menus get eye-catchingly creative. Begin with a mi-cuit of chalk stream trout with avocado crème fraîche gâteau and seaweed jelly, prior to an assiette of Cornish lamb with minted courgette purée, Caesar-dressed braised baby gem and Parmesan polenta. Dazzling flavour arrays ensure the desserts don't just slip into cliché: vanilla cheesecake comes with pear compôte, green apple gel, almond crémeux, and a green apple and star-anise sorbet. Inventive cocktails and mocktails kick things off with a bang, while wines fan out from the French regions, confidently hurtling off to Crete, Catalonia and deepest Kent. Small glasses start at £5.50.

There are plenty of reasons to linger in this cosy all-year courtyard garden right at the heart of the Corinthia London hotel. Beautifully sheltered, shaded and planted, it cuts a real dash in summer but come winter a mix of sofas with blankets, two fireplaces and plenty of heaters make this a comfortable and elegant destination whatever the weather. Among the all-day food and drinks offering, expect Mediterranean airs in show-stopping main courses such as white asparagus served with a morel and artichoke casserole, wild garlic and fresh Parmesan, or a beautifully rendered, baked sea bass fillet with fennel, capers and lemon. Eggs Mimosa or beef carpaccio start things off with plenty of oomph, otherwise plump for just one dish – say a satisfying salade niçoise or a pizzette topped with Ortiz tuna, tomato, black olive and pea shoots. It’s all about good food, good wine – and cigars after 9.30pm – at prices that match the surroundings.

A central hub for political radicalism in the latter years of the 18th century, this gorgeous Grade II-listed Fitzrovia boozer has been revitalised as a hostelry for the ages. We recommend the ground-floor bar for its alluring heritage vibe (all gilded mirrors, lush leather banquettes and dark wood panelling) and its menu of classic pub grub – think black pudding Scotch eggs with Oxford sauce, braised ox cheek with mash, beer-battered fish, rhubarb and custard trifle, banana split. Prodigious Sunday roasts also come highly recommended, as does the admirable drinks selection (terrific English sparkling wines, artisan beers, ‘very, very nice Guinness’, cheeky cocktails et al). Brilliant staff, too.

‘The best Henley restaurant by a country mile!’ is just one of the many reports we’ve received about this comely pub since its reopening in November 2022. Located a mile or so outside the town in a bucolic setting, the Golden Ball is a blend of old and new: the odd beam and various nook-like dining spaces balanced by modern colours and furniture, plus a classic blues soundtrack and a little garden out back. The food is ambitious and elaborate, reflecting Henley-raised Ben Watson’s time as sous-chef at Core by Clare Smyth, as well as his wife Priya’s Punjabi heritage.

Praise is lavished on the 'excellent value’ set lunch, where ham hock terrine with red cabbage purée could be followed by pheasant breast with braised leg bourguignon, then cheese from the Nettlebed Creamery. But the concise, regularly changing carte also keeps locals returning for more. We were shoehorned into a tiny alcove, but things looked up with the arrival of freshly baked, perfectly weighted white bread, served gratis with a choice of butters (whipped and spiced). First courses raise the bar even higher, witness a generous and flavoursome serving of tender pulled oxtail topped with creamy bone-marrow emulsion and served with a pot of thick dhal makhani. More bread made a good foil for this rich assembly. No complaints, either, about a meaty slab of John Dory, well-balanced with lightly cooked kale, mash and Jerusalem artichoke purée – enhanced with roasted girolle and a highly savoury mushroom and toasted yeast velouté.

Dessert, however, was a misstep, with mundane fruit letting down an otherwise expertly wrought dish of roasted and caramelised warm apple, puff pastry and lemon thyme ice cream – why do chefs from top kitchens rarely look beyond Granny Smith? Service, from Priya herself, was assured and welcoming, and care has also been lavished on the brief wine list – right down to our glass of juicy Vinho Verde. 

* Former senior sous-chef George Sweeney has been promoted to head chef, replacing Jermaine Harriott.*

Set on a handsome street close to Beaconsfield’s main drag, the Greyhound is a highly trained thoroughbred. This 17th-century former coaching inn was refurbished and reopened in 2019 by a couple with extensive hospitality experience at the likes of Restaurant Gordon Ramsay and Trinity. They run a tight ship, with an exceptionally well-drilled team out front. Although there’s a bar with local real ale, fine dining’s the thing, pointed up by expensive wallpaper in the foyer and a smart semi-circular yellow banquette installed beneath wooden beams in the ground-floor restaurant. There's a similarly attired room upstairs, and a terrace for summertime food at the back. A certain formality pervades the place, admired by legions of regulars who appreciate the ‘cosy, classy and comfortable’ ambience and ‘immaculate’ staff. The food attracts praise too. As well as various tasting menus, Jermaine Harriott (promoted from sous-chef) serves up a concise seasonal carte where Norfolk quail with pickled walnuts and redcurrants might precede grilled red mullet with carrot, ginger and avruga caviar. There’s a short list of ‘nibbles’ too, including a pair of exquisitely light (and strikingly black) duck and cherry tarts with nori and gherkin. Even the good-value set lunch comes with a showering of additional tit-bits, from a standard-issue cheese gougère to a creamy yet tangy white tomato gazpacho with thinly sliced pickled courgettes. To follow, a quartered loaf of warm, moist, nutty soda bread with caramelised butter outshone our starter – an underpowered sweetcorn velouté, poured onto a tangle of crunchy sliced fennel, spring onions and Thai basil. No complaints, though, about a main course of Cornish ling, the generous portion of translucently fresh fish aptly paired with a punchy warm ‘tartare butter sauce’ and little cubes of potato. Equally enjoyable was a (much-needed) side dish of sugar-snap peas with mint, lettuce and bacon. With pre-desserts, 'sweets' (including a tangy sea-buckthorn pastille) and chocolates also on the agenda, our intense chocolate tart embedded with chewy raw pistachios simply added to the indulgent finale. A thoughtfully chosen, well-annotated wine list completes the picture. 

Set in the picturesquely named Vale of White Horse, in a village not far from Wantage, this Greyhound is a thoroughbred if ever there was one. Its interior spaces have been fashioned in accord with best modern style, with plenty of light wood, walls in primary colour schemes and a dining room that boasts white-clothed tables. A couple who found the place bathed in unseasonal February sun after a fogbound 50-mile car journey had their spirits lifted – especially when presented with the ‘lunch for less’ menu, enjoying Camembert with black garlic aïoli, and then sensational roast guinea fowl from a three-course deal that comes in at under £35.

The principal menu deals in ambitious modern British food full of enticement from the get-go, with preliminary nibbles such as venison croquette with gribiche dressing and watercress to consider. For an opening salvo, mackerel might be soused and scorched, partnered with rillettes of its smoked version, and energised with a beef-fat crumpet and grated horseradish – a spectacular composition of flavours. The vegan main course is hardly lacking in imagination, either – think Crown Prince squash accompanied by dressings of hazelnut dukkah and pistou, along with Swiss chard, apple and pickled walnut. Otherwise, look to Cornish skate wing with smoked leeks, cockles and capers in beurre noisette, or harissa-fired pork tomahawk steak with Guinness-infused onion purée and pearl barley.

There are the almost-obligatory pub classics too (when only a plate of fish and chips will suffice), and proceedings conclude with, say, banana pain perdu, torched banana, peanut-butter ice cream and butterscotch. British and Irish cheeses are top-drawer selections served with spiced pear purée and boozy chutney. A wine list with helpful tasting notes adds to the cheer.

Amersham’s handsome main street isn’t short of plush hostelries and restaurants, so the fact that many locals – from work colleagues to young mums with babies – dine at this grand old coaching inn even on a midweek lunchtime says a great deal. Readers’ comments have been especially positive about the ‘simply beautiful’ Sunday roasts, where the likes of suckling pig with chorizo lead to ‘clean plates all round’.

The rambling interior is split into various dining areas, with wooden floorboards and ancient beams juxtaposed with green-velvet chairs and a preponderance of fake greenery in the bar area, which looks out on to a little terrace garden. Despite changes in the kitchen, the menu has retained its modern pub-food feel – plus at least one old favourite, a Baron Bigod pie (now a starter). Expect a broadly similar repertoire for lunch and dinner, with minor seasonal adjustments.

Lunch might commence with a delicate little pig’s cheek croquette, fresh from the pan, full of tender meat and served with celeriac rémoulade and rather sweet black-garlic ketchup. To follow, tuna steak was a tad overcooked on our visit, though the accompanying potato salad was abundant and creamy. Luckily, dessert made amends: a rich, dark and dense chocolate and coconut crémeux.

Bread is a highlight here, warm and fresh from the Griffin's new on-site bakery named ‘Ourdough’, but whether the accompanying sweet butter (chipotle and maple) makes a good pairing is questionable. The venue's line-up of drinks (from local real ales to fine wines and cocktails) has been praised, so too the waiting staff – though forgetfulness isn’t unknown. 

A short walk from Holland Park and the Design Museum, the Holland is a proper neighbourhood pub that stands out from the area’s many chains with its laudable commitment to social responsibility and sustainability. The rustic interior feels relaxed and inviting, while the chic lived-in look (think emerald tiled bar, woodwork painted in dark green, exposed brickwork, repurposed furniture and floorboards) is offset by a nostalgic 60s/70s soundtrack. A second dining room on the first floor is designed for larger groups.

Chef/owner Max de Nahlik heads the kitchen, his short, produce-driven menu showing respect for the seasons and leaning towards simplicity with the likes of asparagus risotto or rib of beef with red wine sauce. To start, rich white and brown crabmeat spread on toast delivers a spicy kick. After that, flavourful roast leg of lamb is complemented by a colourful mélange of datterini tomatoes, pesto and charred cime di rapa, Cornish new potatoes with green mojo, and a veal jus. Rounding things off, ripe Baron Bigod cheese is a great precursor to an apple and rhubarb crumble.

The set lunch is good value (especially for the W8 postcode) and the Sunday roast offer is ‘a thing of beauty’ with its ‘blushing’ beef rump, ‘crackling’ roasties and more besides. Service is enthusiastic and friendly. Craft beers, cocktails and around three dozen well-selected wines (including plenty by the glass) complete a terrific offer.

‘The quintessential village pub’ is one visitor's verdict on this handsome Cotswold hostelry with rooms – and we wholeheartedly agree. The ‘Killy’ retains the charm of a cosy local boozer – villagers drink real ale and chew the cud around a wood-burning stove in winter – yet its kitchen produces highly accomplished and full-flavoured cooking.

Diners head for the recently extended restaurant, where flagstoned flooring and stone walls dovetail well with the 17th-century bar. Panache is apparent early in a meal, perhaps with a delicate yet boldly flavoured appetiser of cheese and truffle gougère with a parsley emulsion. A thick little slice of smoked trout could follow, perked up by a zesty buttermilk and lovage sauce poured at table by one of the chatty, clued-up staff. Better still is a hillock of mushroom cream surrounded by celeriac velouté, with slices of cep and crunchy hazelnuts adding to the end-of-year flavours.

Mains are similarly seasonal in style – notably a serving of juicy guinea fowl breast matched with nutty risotto-like pearl barley in a creamy chestnut velouté, the dish piqued by the bitter notes of caramelised chicory. A side of shredded ‘winter spiced’ red cabbage – tangy, sweet, rich – adds to the indulgence. Inventiveness and flair continue with desserts, witness a dark and luxurious chocolate délice, spiced with Szechuan peppercorns. The expertly annotated wine list keeps pace too, with big flavours galore – even in the kindly priced house selections.

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

An expansive, cheering space full of warmth and energy, with partially sheltered outdoor seating too, the Magdalen has evolved into a dynamic dining pub in recent times. It runs to a mix of bookings and walk-ins, and is dog-friendly – as long as Rover is happy to stay under the table. An enthusiastically friendly team keeps things motoring, bringing generously laden plates from the open kitchen. A hungry late-summer group tackled the slow-cooked neck of lamb for three, served with excellent dauphinoise and spiced red cabbage, and still managed to take home a couple of portions.

There is rock-steady technique in the form of a four-cheese soufflé to start, twice-baked and served with pear and walnut salad or, perhaps, crisped pig's cheek with gribiche. Fish main courses can be as grand as the roast meats serve for Sunday lunch, with a whole sea bass flashed on the grill and dressed in cime di rapa, garlic and chilli.

‘Leave room for desserts,’ advises one happy visitor – not surprising when the line-up might include greengage crumble, bramble Bakewell, richly fashioned cheesecake and even simple ice cream and sorbet options (perhaps pistachio and pear, respectively). A concise list of fairly priced wines includes Gassac's Viognier-Chardonnay blend and Camillo's succulent Morellino di Scansano from Tuscany.

An East End boozer from Victorian times, the Marksman exudes the wood-panelled dignity of yesteryear alongside the accoutrements that east Londoners expect to see in today's pub. Ground-floor snackers huddle round candles, nursing fig-leaf and strawberry daiquiris rather than mild ale these days, while the full menu (available upstairs) puts an enterprising kitchen through its paces.

Limber up your taste buds with Porthilly oysters and mignonette dressing (with the Tabasco bottle on hand) or a curried lamb bun with salt lime yoghurt, before a saunter through the day's options. Grilled goat chops with anchovy is the sort of starter you're not likely to find everywhere – best grab it while you can – or there may be duck and Tamworth pork terrine with burnt apple mustard. Anticipating the slap of hot spice, we found the devilled sardines a little on the angelic side, but there was nothing wrong with a handsomely puffed and browned chicken and girolle pie for sharing, served with mayonnaise-lashed chips. Fish possibilities have taken in a lively crew of cod, clams and sea beet, all blown in on a breeze of saffron, and there are (fairly pricey) side-orders of organic Sussex saladings in tarragon buttermilk dressing.

To end things on a nourishing note, try rhubarb frangipane or burnt cheesecake with mirabelles. Wines are served by the small glass, half-litre or bottle, roping in one of the rarer reds of Rías Baixas among a choice of house selections that also includes Provence Viognier and Cinsault rosé.

There seems to be a permanent queue at London’s poshest chippy, though any poshness focuses on the food rather than the decor (tiled, basic, cramped). Tourists flock here, and locals pop-in for takeaway – the only way to beat the queue, as you get dealt with immediately. Everyone is here for generous portions of sparklingly fresh fillet of cod or haddock in a light, crisp beer batter with thick-cut chips – at a reasonable price for Mayfair. Gluten-free (and alcohol-free) batter is also an option. Other dishes are available (perhaps lobster macaroni cheese or shepherd’s pie), but as the returning American in front of us in the queue said, ‘you come for the fish and chips’. Drinks extend to cocktails, beers and a brief, fish-friendly wine selection.

Inventive seafood dishes with a strong Greek accent are the main attraction at this intimate restaurant on the marina in London’s St Katharine Docks. In summer, a pavement table overlooking the water and the moored yachts might transport you to a taverna on Mykonos – if you have a fertile imagination. However, on a cold and wet winter’s night it's a much less romantic proposition. Luckily, Greek-born Theodore Kyriakou’s food is worth the journey, whatever the weather. Some may remember the chef for the wildly inventive and eclectic food at More, his sadly short-lived Bermondsey restaurant. While the menu at the Melusine is a little more restrained, there’s still plenty of imagination and finesse on offer. At a test meal, a starter of gently steamed trout exemplified the house style: delicate fish perfectly complemented by classic, lemony avgolemono. Kyriakou’s refined version boasted an almost thin custard-like texture and was split with a verdant green herb oil to dramatic visual effect. Slices of pickled carrot and micro amaranth leaves worked beautifully as a citric and aromatic counterpoint, while nori mayonnaise added a welcome umami tang. An octopus main course was more rustic but equally enjoyable. A single, large tentacle was chargrilled to tender perfection and simply served with fava bean purée, watercress pesto and mesclun leaves that supplied interest but didn’t detract from the main event. Desserts, such as blue-cheese ice cream with olive oil or strawberry and hazelnut cake with sweetcorn ice cream, might sound plain weird but a slice of chocolate and tahini tart turned out to be a terrific idea, with the sesame flavour enhancing the high-quality chocolate and adding body to the filling without making it claggy. Unless you are an expert on Greek wines, the list might be something of a challenge; however, knowledgeable staff are on hand to guide you to some unusual names – including an affordable and very enjoyable Smederevka from Macedonia (available by the carafe).

Jun Tanaka's ninth restaurant enterprise settled into the foodscape of Charlotte Street as soon as it opened, and is now off and running again, following a period of closure due to a fire. The ambience still feels cool and relaxed, with grey banquettes against roughcast brickwork, ornamental lights and mirrors, plus a few comfortable seats at the bar and another room upstairs. Clued-up staff are full of personable maturity without being overbearing, while the pace is judged to perfection. Initial flavours are as strong and multi-layered as they need to be to make a good first impression – as in snacks such as exquisite crab and seaweed tartlets, or coccoli dough balls with puréed artichokes and a great whack of black truffle. Starters from the sharing menu might feature a tempura-battered piece of red mullet with carrot/shallot escabeche and shrieking-green wild garlic aïoli (that perfect batter one of a few personal references from a chef with Japanese heritage). Otherwise, an Italian and Provençal mood prevails: mains take a simpler approach for a veal chop with morels, or whole grilled (but not especially crisp-skinned) sea bass, surrounded by an honour-guard of luscious mussels and Sicilian datterini tomatoes in red and amber shades. Finish with chopped peach poached in mulled wine with yoghurt sorbet and mint oil or a gargantuan choux au craquelin, its biscuit-coated, chocolate-based soft shell encasing a huge orb of pistachio ice cream. This is a menu yearning away from the concept of sharing dishes (how to divide a serving of monkfish, prawns and clams in broth?) but the food is bright and appealing at nearly every turn, right down to the good-value set lunch. A mostly impressive wine list needs a little more variety among dry whites by the glass, where high-acid Sauvignons, Rieslings and Verdejos rule the roost, but there are good growers throughout.

It’s hard not to be seduced by the Nut Tree, the 15th-century pub-restaurant in an Oxfordshire hamlet that chef Mike North and his wife Imogen have run to great acclaim for almost 20 years. The low-slung thatch may be showing its age, but scrambling roses, a vegetable garden, and homely pubbiness (especially in the older bar area) make up for any rooftop bedragglement. In any case, you’re here for the food and drink.

Drop in for a pint and a pub classic in one of the cosy alcoves. Fish and chips fly out during the week, ditto flavour-packed cod brandade with runny quail's eggs and luxuriously creamy mushroom velouté flecked with chives and a soupçon of truffle oil. As one regular reported: 'No matter what I go in for, whether it's dinner, a snack or a drink, I'm welcomed just the same.' 

The kitchen’s ambition shows on the tasting menu, where beautiful ingredients are prepared with classical confidence and minimal showmanship. Settle in for the full six courses (plus excellent bread and an optional cheese course) or ask for servings to be scaled up to build a conventional three-course deal. A piece of pearly turbot comes with smooth baba ganoush, spring vegetables and a lightly aerated vermouth sauce; it’s a delight with an Austrian Grüner Veltliner (Domäne Baumgartner 2023). Beef fillet with morels and more vivid greens is a standout, the meat exceptional in its tenderness, the accompanying Madeira sauce glossed with luxury, while a ripe Côte du Rhône (Domaine Arbouse 2022) provides strong berry-cherry support in the glass. To conclude, an eggshell filled with salted caramel, chocolate mousse, Chantilly cream and popping candy is a fun pre-dessert fixture, while a passion-fruit soufflé and sorbet with a little jug of coconut and rum custard is refreshingly, tropically zesty. 

There’s a loyal following locally for the Norths’ brand of gracious hospitality and classical cuisine delivered in a super-comfortable setting – and we also say 'yes' to the padded seats, white tablecloths and sparkling glassware. Prices reflect the times but also the exceptional quality of produce. Worth it? Absolutely.

Think Marlow and two things spring to mind: rowing and restaurants. Despite its name, this large town-centre 'bistropub' eases down on the former but puts its back into the latter. Yes, there’s a little wooden dinghy by the side entrance and the odd vintage Boat Race advert, but more prominent are the prints devoted to drink: wine is important here, with a regularly updated, 300-strong list of mainly organic and biodynamic bottles; ciders (from Normandy and Herefordshire) and an eclectic range of spirits are notable too. Food is served in the roomy dark-hued bar, the cosier snug or the well-proportioned dining room with its large serving hatch and views of a little terrace. Scottish chef Scott Smith (ex-Arbutus and Wild Honey) works methodically, delivering an inviting, oft-changing menu that lists three courses plus ‘larder and bar snacks’ such as charcuterie. Starters are especially appealing. In early July, a refreshing salad of goat’s curd with broad beans and peas was made still more summery with fresh fennel leaves and chopped chives, while toasted hazelnuts added extra crunch; in winter, expect more robust offerings such as pig's trotters and bacon on beef-dripping toast. To follow, braised lamb neck with spring vegetables was a gloriously rich and tender piece of meat presented in an iron casserole with baby turnips, courgettes and lightly pickled onions, together with a jug of first-rate gravy and little mounds of puréed aubergine and garlicky parsley on the plate. After that, our Ecclefechan tart, a Borders speciality, was a rich, moist Christmas pud-like confection described by the affable waiter as ‘Scotland on a plate’ – though the accompanying slice of Bonnet goat’s cheese (itself a full-flavoured treat) was best eaten separately. Prices are Marlow-high but, unlike some local rivals, the Oarsman steers a true course through crowded waters – especially when it comes to wine. Arranged in imaginative style categories, such as 'Amber Revolution' for skin-contact tipples, as well as regional locations from more than 40 countries, it is a passionate exploration of today's global wine scene. A clutch of fine sherries is worth a look, but so is the fizz list, which includes Harrow & Hope Brut Reserve No 7, made right here in Marlow itself. 

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.

‘Kentish Town has been crying out for something like this for years,’ volunteered one reporter who whole-heartedly approves of this relaxed neighbourhood hostelry. Reinvented, resurrected and reconstituted, the landmark Victorian building is split into two halves – the front bar keeps things affable for drinkers, while those after a bite to eat head to the smaller dining area at the back, where the team have got it right from the start with positive, approachable service. Dominated by impressive stained-glass windows, a scrawled blackboard menu and an open-to-view kitchen, there’s an informality about the room that suits the feel-good contemporary menu. Dishes cooked over fire using a custom grill are the high points of Ben Allen’s repertoire, which creates an impression of sophistication and flair (‘impeccable’ leek and spider crab croquettes), while remaining down-to-earth and wholesome (rabbit pie, for example). Combos such as homemade smoked ricotta with petits pois, quinoa and pickled Tropea onions or lamb with cabbage, fermented green tomatoes, oyster sauce and shiso leaf are typical of the seasonally aware, to-the-point approach – as are strawberries softened in the wood fire and marinated in Grand Marnier, topped with caramelised strawberries, a swirl of milk ice cream and a sprinkling of elderflower and sweet cicely. There’s good drinking too, from cocktails and draught beer to a confident, modern wine list including more than a dozen by the glass or carafe.

Big, solid and glamorous, this strikingly converted Notting Hill corner pub has proved a stellar blueprint for the rapidly expanding Public House Group since it opened in 2022. In the years since, it has lost none of its appeal as an exceptional neighbourhood hangout.

Provenance is high on the priority list in a menu that is brief in both description and in length (‘chicken, girolles’ or ‘mullet, mussels’) but accompanied by a lengthy run of specials, considerately jotted down onto the paper menu. Spider crab on toast or greaseless battered cod cheeks with luminous curry sauce are two of many ways to arrange a light lunch or kick off a feast that might run on to a bone-in sirloin to share with a fabulously fresh salad of cucumber and sorrel. Standard pub fayre this is not.

To finish, we direct you towards the chocolate mousse, or perhaps parkin and custard for more wintery months. Top picks for drinking include the pub’s signature Allsop’s Pilsner or a pint from Bristol’s Lost and Grounded Brewers. The wine list is carefully curated and offers value at all price points.

Independently owned and independently run by chef Brett Newman and his wife Nadia, this cheery, ‘incredibly welcoming’ hostelry ticks all the boxes as a genuine community-minded village local. It hosts quizzes and open-mic nights, stages summer BBQs in its expansive garden, raises money for the local primary school and is cherished by the residents of North Marston and beyond. Food-wise, the owners buy what’s local and seasonal for a repertoire that runs from tapas plates to Sunday roasts, all big on flavour and generosity. Menu formats vary with the seasons, but sharing is normally the name of the game, whether you’re into mac ‘n’ cheese, devilled mushrooms or hispi cabbage with smoked almonds, crème fraîche and Berkswell cheese. Bigger plates could bring sriracha-glazed chicken thighs studded with sesame seeds or line-caught pollack with creamed corn and chipotle chilli. Rare-breed steaks and burgers satisfy too, while desserts might usher in calorific old dependables such as treacle tart, lemon posset or chocolate truffle cake with clotted cream and praline. Locals drinking real ales in the bar can also eat from a reduced menu of similar items, right down to bowls of chips and ketchup. Proper draught cider and a refreshingly priced, varied wine list complete a thoroughly likeable local package.

London’s 'tached and tattooed creatives have called it: the Plimsoll is cool. So eager are they to get into this tiny corner pub in residential Finsbury Park, they’ll squeeze into any unoccupied corner of the bar, jostle for a spot at one of the ledges outside, and book up to a month in advance for a table in the scruffy dining room.

The one-page menu changes regularly and is appealing. There’s no rule that says you have to order the Dexter cheeseburger but there’s barely a table that doesn’t. And it is a good burger, well-balanced, with flavoursome aged beef and a shiny brioche bun. Otherwise, there’s a faint Spanish accent to the plates coming out of the open kitchen, albeit less pronounced than at the Plimsoll’s nearby sibling, Tollingtons. Most of what we ate was just a whisker off excellent: ripe early-summer Vesuvio tomatoes with olive oil are perfectly good as they are – even the snowdrift of grated Tomme de Chèvre goat's cheese over the top is too much. The same goes for the oakheart lettuce; it just needs a lighter touch with the mustard vinaigrette. 

Presentation throughout is winningly simple; decorative details being limited to the vintage floral china. Whole plaice, a scrawny specimen, comes grilled and drenched in 'nduja butter, while lamb rump (juicy and pink) arrives in thick slices with mint and spiced yoghurt. Pudding is the highlight: a slice of strawberry jam tart with custard and cream. Drinks-wise, there is plenty of interest including orange wines, sparklers, apéros, ciders and, of course, Guinness.

After a lengthy closure, the Plough (formerly the Plowden Arms) was rescued from its lonely furrow in 2022 when the Canadian-born owner reopened this old village hostelry following an extensive refit. The new look – parquet flooring, sofas and upholstered chairs, modern artworks, posh toilets – marries well with the dark beams and low ceilings. Readers confirm that the decor is 'stunning', as is the recently landscaped garden, complete with a firepit for summer evenings.

The food (‘exciting but accessible’) also finds favour, with menus catering for most occasions – from gentrified fish and chips to a monthly ‘flight club’ where a five-course tasting menu is combined with wine pairings, cocktails and live music. The kindly priced, no-choice set lunch is a popular option, with villagers tucking into the likes of cauliflower velouté with hazelnut and apple gremolata, sea trout fillet with a cep and eel sauce, and desserts such as tonka-bean parfait. The concise seasonal carte kicks off with snacks including beetroot and horseradish arancini, though all but the ravenous might head straight for starters.

Our winter lunch opened with a cigar-shaped rissole of tasty pulled oxtail, coated in a crunchy crust topped with a modicum of celeriac rémoulade and lovage emulsion. And though Parmesan masked the fungal flavour in a main course of wild mushroom risotto, the creamy rice, garden peas and fresh thyme made a comforting retreat from bitter January – as did the log fire. To finish, ‘set cream’ was a satisfyingly wobbly panna cotta matched with orange compôte and an intense chocolate ice.

The kitchen also delivers when it comes to providing a stylishly traditional Sunday lunch (‘simple, not overstated, and exactly what we love,’ commented one fan), while service is polite, friendly and attentive. Drinks are a forte too, with well-chosen Old World wines (including fizz from a local vineyard) augmented by cocktails and Rebellion beers.  

After years in the doldrums, the restaurant at the top of the revamped National Portrait Gallery is now as sharply metro as can be – thanks to savvy chef Richard Corrigan, whose name is nailed firmly above the door. There’s a wow factor to the 190-degree rooftop-skimming view that takes in such iconic London landmarks as the Eye and Nelson’s Column, and it’s a wonderful place to pass a lunchtime – a comfortable spot with good service (led by the amiable Jon Spiteri), lots of people to observe, and some fabulous paintings to take in on the way up and down. Corrigan knows all about seasonality and sourcing, so it’s no surprise that the regularly changing menu homes in on solid modern classics resonating with ingredient-driven rusticity – a winning formula judging by the crowded dining room when we visited. The kitchen concentrates its efforts on manageable, affordable items, ranging from an excellent salad of beetroot, red onion, sheep’s yoghurt and hazelnuts to superb cauliflower conchigliette (homemade) with Stilton, pickled pear and walnut or a flavoursome, tender guinea fowl breast given heft by 'nduja stuffed under the skin. It’s all backed up by well-tried desserts – say a light marmalade steamed pudding with crème anglaise or a superb Syrian saffron rice pudding with pistachio and bergamot. The set menu is particularly good value, although it’s also possible to order just one dish (portions are generous) and a glass of wine. To drink, there are some interesting-looking cocktails and a short roster of popular, mainly European house wines, priced by the 125ml glass, carafe of bottle. Otherwise, there’s a slightly broader sweep to the full list, with representatives from the Old and New World (from £35).

This historic Victorian hostelry on a quiet road in Notting Hill has been given a new lease of life by Cubitt House, owner of a number of London dining pubs – and it's by far the best in the group, in our opinion. The makeover is impressive with an exterior painted in British 'racing green' and plenty of rustic charm within, accentuated by bare brick walls, potted plants and marble-topped tables. There’s a choice of dining spots: at the counter by the raw bar, to the rear in a cosy room with black leather chesterfields, or in a light-filled conservatory with sofa seating right next to the large back garden. Service is laid-back and pleasant without being too chummy, while the (dog-friendly) vibe is positively relaxed. Ben Tish (ex-Norma and the Game Bird) has been recruited to lead the kitchen and has devised a sophisticated, Mediterranean-inspired menu of snacks, small and large plates and salads. From the raw bar selection, super-fresh hand-dived scallop crudo with carosello cucumber was lifted by a lemon dressing and a sprinkling of dill, chilli and marjoram – ‘not the sort of dish you find in most pubs,' noted an inspector. Nor is a small plate of three cheese pizzette fritti served with burrata, mascarpone, Fontina and spring truffle, or a gutsy piece of salt marsh lamb (paired with French beans, peas, courgettes and a scoop of ricotta) made special with a gentle hit from rose harissa. To finish, doughnuts with raspberry jam and Marsala custard were pronounced ‘delicious’ but there are also Neal’s Yard cheeses to consider – especially if you want to continue exploring the broad-minded collection of wines. Expect plenty of variety for most budgets, with plentiful options by the glass, and bottles starting at £29.

As with bungee-jumping or a trip to Venice, dinner at The Ritz is one of those experiences that every life should ideally embrace at least once. There is nothing in either hemisphere that looks like the hotel's dining room on a balmy day, with the sun pouring in off Green Park – unless it be the evening scene, when gilded Poseidon lolls on his pedestal, sparkling chandeliers twinkle and the silverware gleams like honesty in a sinful world.

In the distant past, the cooking idled amid pedestrian Anglo-French cliché, but under John Williams MBE, it began a steady ascent toward global greatness. Needless to say, the style of service is an exercise in arts that have been cheerfully abandoned elsewhere, and yet there is genuine warmth within the impeccable propriety. Prime materials from the home nations – organic Cornish beef, Lakeland lamb, Scottish lobster – furnish a menu that is supple enough to be parlayed into five- or seven-course ‘epicurean experiences’ for those reluctant to tear themselves away.

To start, there's Dorset crab dressed in crème fraîche and adorned with Imperial caviar, or you might plump for roast quail cooked in verjus and crunchy with hazelnuts. The delicacy of timing is exemplary throughout, from wild sea bass with artichoke and lemon to truffled veal fillet with chestnuts, but equally sharp judgement distinguishes the miraculously tender roe deer and its aromatic garnitures of smoked beetroot and juniper.

Tableside service was what there was before open kitchens, a chance to see the finishing touches being applied to dîner à deux servings of Dover sole or beef Wellington, followed perhaps by crêpes Suzette – an Edwardian culinary bloop that stuck. Otherwise, look to chocolate soufflé with vanilla Chantilly, chestnut Mont Blanc or the distinctly daring port-roasted figs in orange and olive oil.

If you're after a spot of wine as well, the Ritz can oblige. Perhaps start with a larger-than-average glass of the ‘Champagne of the month’, before setting about the main list. French and Italian classics form the solid, lottery-win foundation, but there are excellent selections from South America and Australasia too.

Only a handful of London restaurants can genuinely claim to be ‘iconic’, and this glamorous spot on a Hammersmith backstreet is one of them. Launched by Ruth Rogers and the late Rose Gray in 1987, the River Café’s mission was to bring the seasonal pleasures of artisan Italian cuisine to the capital. It may be approaching middle age, but this is still ‘one cool restaurant’, frequented by a well-heeled, fashion-conscious crowd who love to eat (and be seen) here. The dining space is filled with light and luminous colours (sea blue, bright yellow), there’s cafeteria-style seating and an open-plan kitchen with a wood-fired oven, while a shiny zinc bar brings you close to the action. Topping it off, an outdoor terrace with a view of the Thames is the perfect summery spot. As for the food itself, everything depends on impeccable supplies from Italy and nearer home, all attuned to the calendar. The culinary approach may be understated but ingredients are treated with the utmost respect, as in a plate of fabulously sweet, split and wood-roasted Scottish langoustines paired with garlic and parsley. Some once-thrilling ideas now seem commonplace (chargrilled squid with red chilli and rocket, for example), but others still create a special magic: a dish of hearty softened cannellini beans with summer girolles, parsley and a slice of crostino could have come straight from a Tuscan farmhouse, while properly gamey wood-roasted Yorkshire grouse (bang in season) with crispy Tuscan-style roast potatoes and a jus laced with a generous splash of Brunello di Montalcino is rustic yet sophisticated. No corners are cut here – even the wine used for cooking comes from renowned estates. For dessert, there are classics aplenty, from the sumptuous and much-copied chocolate nemesis to a citrussy Amalfi lemon tart. Service is charming to a fault, although all this fame and legacy can cost a small fortune: depending on your financial status, it can seem ‘reassuringly expensive’ or downright pricey. And you will need to nurse your bank balance if you plan to indulge in the wine list – a mighty tome packed with Italian gems (including some stunning Super Tuscans) as well as classy Champagnes. Thankfully, around 25 by-the-glass selections (from £13) help to ease the burden. 

From its look, feel, ambience and pricing, there's little to suggest that this high-street restaurant is anything other than a decent independent local (in an area dominated by chains). The room itself, part bare brick with exposed aircon ducts, has a vaguely industrial feel, enhanced by the glimpsed kitchen behind picture windows at the back. A menu of sensible length puts much emphasis on provenance – cod from Shetland, scallops from Mull, tomatoes from the Isle of Wight – and with gentle jazzy pop playing in the background, it all seems quite pleasant and low-key. It's only when the food starts to arrive that you realise the burst of originality that chef Nathan Cornwell has brought to the place. With plenty of top-end experience under his belt (including four years at The Barn at Moor Hall in Lancashire), he has set the bar very high. First comes seriously good sourdough bread with brilliantly green lovage butter, followed by an array of perfect little nibbles ranging from crispy pork belly and a complicated crab mousse to marinated sea trout with glistening pops of its roe and a mini blue cheese and Parmesan canapé – each intensely flavourful and texturally different. A beautifully presented starter of 'ex-dairy' beef tartare revels in its unadulterated meatiness, while duck ragoût, served wittily on turnip spaghetti, is given crunch with a dusting of grated, crispy skin. Lamb is served very pink and tender, alongside a scattering of baby girolles, wild garlic and a crispy sweetbread as accompaniments, while delicate butter-poached plaice is enhanced with a clever deconstruction of a tartare sauce. To finish, expect satisfyingly punchy sweetness from a brown-butter chocolate délice with milk sorbet and caramelised white chocolate, as well as a whimsical Victoria plum, brown sugar and ginger tartlet. Staff are friendly and matter-of-fact. The wine list is very reasonable, with lots of choice by the glass and carafe.

Given its location in a Chilterns hamlet, this comely old pub-turned-restaurant needs to attract custom from afar – and it has long been successful, establishing a covetable reputation for high-quality food. Chef Andrew Lewis is keeping the kitchen on track, nudging the operation forward with a range of concise menus suffused with eclectic Anglo-European flavours. Appetisers – perhaps a delicate, creamy broccoli and Stilton tart – are served to guests seated on sofas in the venerable beamed bar. Beyond, is a choice of smart dining areas furnished with unclothed tables and upholstered wooden chairs, plus a leafy terrace and capacious lawned beer garden. Even early in the evening, there’s a romantic feel to the place: art on the walls, candles on tables, smoochy jazz on the sound-system and curvaceous sculptures of wildlife dotted around. Beautifully presented dishes add to the allure: a large piece of sherry-glazed pork neck arrives with thinly sliced peach and dabs of peach ‘ketchup’, the ensemble boosted substantially by a little mound of pâté-like pesto. An inspection meal continued with a compendium of piscine flavours: a large chunk of accurately cooked monkfish sharing a plate with a dolma (the vine leaf stuffed with cuttlefish and flavoured with thyme), a dollop of mustard and dulse relish, half a preserved lemon, hazelnut pâté and a creamy smoked-eel sauce. Puddings, too, show technical skill, with a perfectly risen blackberry soufflé complemented by a tangy blackberry sorbet; only a thin crème anglaise missed the mark. The voluminous wine list seems old-fashioned by comparison, with the Old World dominating an unannotated line-up arranged by region. Service, from the kindly proprietress and her young staff, is obliging and swift.

An impressive stone edifice just off Mentmore’s village green, the Stag was famously rescued from closure and taken into community ownership by 42 local shareholders in 2020. An extensive lockdown refit has resulted in a classy, capacious modern interior with parquet flooring, a backlit bar, pricey-looking wallpaper and a wood-burner. Best of all, though, is the congenial feel to the place, helped by happy locals and friendly, laid-back staff. The menu holds plenty of interest, especially in the evening when ‘pub classics’ (burgers, pies, steaks) are joined by more elaborate, contemporary compositions. Adventurous touches abound, although some ideas work better than others. To start, a diminutive fillet of coconut-cured sea bream made a fine pairing with tangy grapefruit segments – though sugary candied chilli was a questionable addition. Likewise, pickled beetroot happily partnered a boldly flavoured goat's cheesecake with a topping of grated walnut – but was the blob of apple jam needed? There were no complaints about a juicy main course of roast duck breast with mouth-watering blackcurrant jus, boosted by some assertive spicing: cinnamon in the well-filled duck-leg pithivier; star anise in the shredded cabbage. Our sumac-marinated pork chop was also a neat, highly savoury idea. Puddings can be equally intricate affairs, note the rich, intense (and highly enjoyable) dark chocolate crémeux with cherry and kirsch compôte. Otherwise, drinks include 1847 ale (produced for the pub by the local Tring Brewery), and an adroitly annotated wine list hopping between the Old and New Worlds. In summer, the beer garden comes into play at this proudly community-focused enterprise.

With its fetching location near a little stone bridge over the river Ray, this 17th-century former pub is no ugly duckling. A major 2022 refit by an Islip-based owner has given it a modern open kitchen overlooking Majli's Lounge (a casual bar area also used for dining) and the Cygnet restaurant – a barn-like space decorated with paintings (for sale), fairy lights over the beams, and diverting model animal heads (a frog, a hippo, a giraffe) displayed like trophies on the wall. At the back is a modest garden.

Peter Wilton took over the kitchen from Paul Welburn in Feb 2025, having previously deputised for his predecessor both here and at the Oxford Kitchen. His menu of snacks, small and large plates is geared to more informal dining, with dishes arriving as-and-when (sometimes inconveniently paced). Snacks of crunchy strips of pork skin paired with black garlic mayonnaise (more pungency please!) could be followed by seasonally attuned ideas such as fresh asparagus with slow-cooked duck egg and (unadvertised) crispy bacon morsels – although an extra dollop of thick wild-garlic pesto was perhaps an ingredient too far. 

Highlights of our visit included a ‘large plate’ of precisely cooked halibut steak ably supported by mussels, crunchy cubes of apple and a slice of seared fennel in a highly savoury sauce, while dessert yielded an inventive confection involving creamy vanilla cheesecake, a tangy apple purée and a scattering of crunchy ‘crumble’, plus a refreshing apple sorbet to complete an impressive ensemble. Efficient, friendly service and an enticingly varied drinks list add to the local appeal, though prices make this a special-occasion venue, rather than somewhere simply to swan-in.

Occupying a former pub in the Barnsbury quarter of Islington, this regional Indian restaurant has become a huge hit with knowledgeable locals. Set up by chef Prince Durairaj (previously at Roti King) and JKS GM Glen Leeson, it offers a smartly attired interior featuring dark walls and a weathered bare-wood floor, plus bar counter seating and a bamboo-shielded terrace out front. As the name indicates, the cooking is at least partly oriented to the southern states of India – and it displays plenty of brio. Proceedings might start with fried prawn and curry-leaf varuval, dressed in an assertive spicy paste. Hailing from the northern reaches of the Subcontinent, the huge, puffed chana bhatura (deep-fried bread accompanied by chickpeas and raita) is something of a showstopper. Returning to Tamil Nadu, the Chettinad lamb curry has impressive depth of flavour, with exhilarating spicing and tender meat, or there is an equally zesty Thanjavur chicken dish. Small, candy-like chunks of paneer are the stars of a butter masala. Durairaj's previous experience shows in the superb buttery roti, an accompaniment that should not be missed. To conclude, gulab jamun is unctuously sweet (as expected), but with a firmer, more satisfying texture than is typical. If that seems a bit much after the substantial preceding dishes, look to mango lassi for refreshment. There is some sound drinking on offer too, with cocktails and mocktails boasting Indian flavours – the rebooted Piña Colada with cinnamon, toasted coconut and lime zest is a doozy. An imaginative wine selection opens at £29 (£8 a glass), while water is served in repurposed gin bottles.

‘I think about it often,’ muses one devotee of the Three Oaks’ Sunday roast, pondering the ‘out of this world’ pork belly and the savoury granola adorning the vegetables. Such imaginative flourishes also characterise the full menu, where a ‘large plate’ of pan-fried cod fillet – glisteningly white, delicate and succulent – might be matched with a light, crisp, cod-mousse croquette and an exploration of the humble celeriac (served salt-baked in rice-like grains, puréed, and pickled in wafer-thin slices).

Starters and desserts have also impressed, from a flavour-packed Thai red curry soup, which arrived homogenised with coconut milk (we’ll forgive the soggy rice-cracker garnish) to a sizeable, elaborately adorned macaroon containing chunks of banana, gooey blobs of chocolate crémeux and nutty macadamia ice cream. Elsewhere, there are abundant plus points to applaud: an ‘excellent value’ pared-down set menu; outstanding, crusty fresh bread; polite, personable and unobtrusive staff; local real ales; and an expertly chosen, globally sourced wine list (the owner also has a wine business).

Although the regulation grey and olive-green colour scheme and cashless operation might shout ‘Home Counties modernised pub’, the display of empty wine bottles, the collection of readable books, and a neat little beer garden lend ample individuality to this mock-Tudor hostelry on the outskirts of town. In short, a first-rate local valued for its all-round consistency.

An upmarket pub with rooms that’s also a true local hangout. Here you’ll find folk having business meetings alongside yoga mums and smart families (drawn by the pretty playground out back). There's something for everyone, from pints and bar snacks in the old-fashioned bar (complete with sport on TV) to proper food from the restaurant menu (also available at the bar if you ask). With really good meat for the local rugby types and Asian chopped salad for their trendily vegan partners, it’s all very relaxed.

Are you looking to sample great cooking combined with the sociability of a supper club? Then, make a beeline for Gabriel Waterhouse's classy restaurant tucked down a graffiti-strewn side street in Bethnal Green. Waterhouse honed his craft at Galvin La Chapelle in the City but has reimagined the notion of fine dining, moving from stiff formality to what might be called a ‘chill experience’. 

Arrive at 1pm for lunch or 7pm for dinner, and remember that it pays to be sociable – you may end up sharing a communal table in the modern high-ceilinged room with its huge windows, wooden furniture, concrete walls, exposed ventilation and 'borderless' kitchen. The vibe is totally relaxed, with well-informed staff consciously cultivating a sense of fun and informality. 

An umami-rich celeriac and kohlrabi broth infused with koji oil, accompanied by a chestnut and cep parfait sandwiched between wafers of rye bread opened our 11-course 'discovery' menu, emphasising the fact that a lot of forethought and work has gone into each dish. The same care and attention was applied to a serving of cured lobster claw and tail with carrot escabèche, finished off with Madeira and spices for extra warmth. Elsewhere, the textures and garlicky flavour of allium and Roscoff onion worked well with a soft sunflower and miso paste, three-cornered leeks and toasted nigella seeds, 

We also recommend opting for the well-curated drinks pairings: the crispy notes of a glass of white Rioja (Solar de Randez 2023) perfectly complemented a dish of oysters topped with green-chilli yoghurt, pickled cucumber and a cold apple, cucumber and sorrel granita. Or how about the fruity notes of a 1909 Wilding Cider (from the 2022 vintage) to accompany a roasted Orkney scallop with a koji emulsion and celeriac braised in seaweed stock, all perked up with a drop of lovage oil? To close the show, freshly baked canelé with a dollop of orange marmalade and a dash of peaty Laphroaig whisky was a terrific way to end. 

*Peter Eaton (long-serving executive chef at the Woodspeen) has replaced Grahame Wickham as head chef.*

‘It’s the whole package,’ affirms one of the White Hart’s many advocates. The setting is a sprawling 15th-century pub a short drive from Oxford featuring a stunning dining hall with a soaring beamed ceiling, weighty wooden furniture and a stone fireplace. A mezzanine, a bar serving local ales, and an ‘orangery’ (popular for summertime pizzas) are further enticements. Happy young black-clad staff help to lighten the mood, aided by an all-encompassing drinks list and a menu of tempting modern assemblies ranging from posh fish and chips to more ambitious French-accented dishes.

Co-owner Mark Chandler has handed over the day-to-day cheffing duties to Grahame Wickham, who is maintaining the pub's reputation for assured, seasonally attuned cooking. Our November visit opened with a pairing of goat's cheese mousse and deep-fried goat's cheese bonbons with fig chutney and fresh figs from the owners' tree, while a main course of pan-roasted duck breast upped the ante, the juicy, tender meat well-matched with zesty preserved plums, kale and mashed sweet potato. Fish is also impressively handled, witness a handsome serving of succulent on-the-bone monkfish ‘bourguignon’, presented with pommes Anna and smoked pancetta in a tasty red wine jus.

Best of all was a gratifyingly large portion of lusciously creamy custard tart with poached pear, pear ice cream and a crunchy mouthful of honeycomb, full of bonfire-night flavours. There's also high praise for the Sunday roasts, topped up with seasonal vegetables from the pub's own garden and served with ‘pride and enthusiasm’. Small wonder that this package is often bursting at the seams with customers.

Set up by three friends (the eponymous ‘uncles’) who spent their childhood hanging around the roast meat cafés of Hong Kong’s Wan Chai Market, this fully fledged restaurant on the western edge of Brixton Village follows on from the trio’s bare-bones outlets in Liverpool Street and Camden. Not surprisingly, top billing goes to that holy trinity of Chinese roasting – chopped-to-order Cantonese duck, crispy pork belly and char siu pork, with Hainan chicken as an extra. The duck ('a wondrous blush pink’) is cooked to near perfection and served on rice or atop a fine broth of duck bones, while the pork belly is equally divine, with the crispest of skins and a thick fatty layer melting into the flesh. This is authentic stuff involving complex time-consuming steps before the meat is roasted in a special round oven. The kitchen also produces a few dim sum bites (char siu bao, pork and prawn siu mai etc), as well as lo mein noodles and some family-style dishes. The flavours could be ramped up a notch, but there’s no arguing with the craft that goes into these dishes. Service is warm and open, while drinks run from fresh juices to Brixton-brewed beers. There's a newish branch by St Paul's Cathedral and a more ambitious outpost is due to open in Ealing in September 2024.

At the weekend, you may have to join a lengthy queue if you accidentally hit peak time, such is the popularity of this small, crowdfunded Camberwell bakery where excellent bread is a given. Sourdough is long-fermented and made from UK-grown, sustainably farmed grain, but the stars of the show are the pastries. Choose from sweet treats such as almond croissants, saffron and vanilla teacakes or yuzu orange Jaffa mini cakes; otherwise, pick up a savoury croissant (beef brisket 'bear claw' with pickle, say). There are daily meat and vegetarian sandwich options, too.

Image: Teo Della Torre

There’s fierce competition for a table at this vegan outpost from the feted Xi’an Impression stable. Where the mothership is perfunctory in everything but the food, this space has been dressed up to fit in on Islington’s well-heeled Upper Street. Yucca plants and banquette seating might provide a veneer (and attract a social media-savvy clientele) but most people are here for the hot and fragrant flavours which make the plant-based nature of the menu a secondary consideration. ‘Fish-fragrant’ aubergine is served in silky finger lengths that have a weighty, meaty density, while freshly made tofu (the star of the show), appears in myriad dishes from Szechuan, northeastern Dongbei and the Cantonese south. If not mapo tofu, then how about bouncy cubes fresh out the fryer in a lacy batter, liberally scattered with the fruity heat of dried chilli? Faux meat substitutes are less thrilling compared to sizzling king oyster mushrooms in black pepper sauce or plump wontons in an addictively good house-special sauce. Once you’ve scored a table, service becomes friendly and efficient through the buzz and bustle. To drink, there's a handful of beers and a choice of serviceable wines from £19.50.

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

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

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

There is a palpable sense of burnished tradition to Trinity, which already has nearly 20 years of mileage on the clock in service to Clapham's Old Town, a half-secluded precinct at the eastern end of the Common. And yet, the place has transmogrified into all the possible permutations of the restaurant format: the expansive ground floor, as buzzing as a West End brasserie most sessions; the informal first-floor room among the treetops; Tableside, a chef's ringside experience with bespoke artworks; and, most recently, Outside – an alfresco space with a mobile kitchen out back. Presiding over it all is Adam Byatt, whose food has developed at an oblique angle to the overtly assertive performances elsewhere. There is great subtlety here, the kind of technique that is often happy enough to render itself all but invisible, witness an appetiser of raw, lightly salted prawns with blood-orange segments supported by an immaculate bouillabaisse jelly of potent concentration. A moment's searing is enough to give point to slender slices of yellowfin tuna on avocado purée and cold XO consommé, garnished with kohlrabi. Occasionally, the sense of balance isn't quite right, as in a piece of Limousin veal sweetbread served with a possessively strong reduction sauce loaded with black olives; just a tad more of the promised asparagus would have streamlined it to perfection. Again, the counterposing of elements in a principal dish of superb, well-marbled chateaubriand with a tart of primavera veg, watercress purée and a beef jus (each impeccable in itself) needed another ting on the tuning-fork. Desserts are about bringing gastronomic refinement to simple classics, so that they shine lustrously: Clapham honey soufflé with a quenelle of beeswax ice cream dropped in, or a luscious gariguette strawberry and mascarpone savarin. It is all served forth with rapturous professionalism. Wines have grown to a stable of around 450 bins, with mature clarets and Burgundies for the cognoscenti, but an excellent slate by the glass from £11. A Domaine Aléofane white Crozes-Hermitage, a sturdy Greek Xinomavro, and a bunch of siren-like Coravins are among the allurements.

When dream-team siblings Karam and Sunaina Sethi opened Trishna in 2008, no one guessed that it was the start of something big; fast-forward 15 years, and the family’s JKS Restaurants portfolio now includes some of the hottest tickets in town (Gymkhana, Hoppers et al). Compared to some of its funkier new openings, this Marylebone original feels distinctly restrained with its whitewashed brickwork, Air India posters, bare café-style tables and jazzy soundtrack – although the food is defined by its assertive flavours and the sheer variety of its spicing (from ‘sweet and subtle to rich, complex and powerful’). The culinary focus is on India’s south-west coastal provinces – Cochin, Kerala and Mangalore – so expect plenty of fresh-tasting seafood in different regional guises. Trishna classics such as soft-shell crab enlivened with green chilli and tomato chutney, salmon tikka with samphire chaat or nariyal scallops (with vermicelli upma and hits of coconut) are joined by equally forthright meat and veggie options. Quail pepper fry is never off the menu, likewise duck seekh kebabs with pineapple chutney and Hyderabadi subzi kofta (dumpling balls of paneer, cashews and almonds gilded with saffron). All the add-ons are up to the mark, while desserts take an east/west trip from strawberry and fennel mousse to smoked mango and cardamom kheer (rice pudding). Service 'can be leisurely,' notes a fan, 'but it's always attentive, charming and helpful'. To match the food, sommelier/co-owner Sunaina Sethi has assembled an intelligent spice-tolerant wine list loaded with classy pairings and ample drinking by the glass or carafe. Otherwise, browse and sip your way through Trishna’s heady ‘tea library’.

In the gentrified hinterland to the south of London Bridge, Trivet has the capacious, calming feel of somewhere on the American West Coast. A small outdoor terrace (with its own summertime menu), a glamorous bar and well-spaced tables set the scene for a smooth operation centred on an open kitchen, where Jonny Lake – formerly executive chef at the Fat Duck – is an authoritative, gentle giant armed with tweezers. Staff are responsive to queries, the sommelier is particularly good with recommendations, and the whole experience is restorative (assuming tootly-flutey jazz doesn't spoil your digestion). 

Nibble on olives, spiced cashews, or long, broad vegetable crackers to get started. The food is all about sharply delineated flavours, with bite from pickled ingredients, salty savour from the likes of kombu and dashi, and combinations that spark the imagination. A braised spiky artichoke dressed in seaweed stock with cauliflower mushroom has plenty of piscine intensity, though it is actually a vegan dish, while dashi stock poured at the table turns a heap of saladings with kombu and gorse flowers into a sharp-dressed escort for panko-crumbed veal sweetbread.

At main course, a spin on duck with orange is composed of livid-pink fatless breast crusted in puffed rice and cracked peppercorns, with Tarocco blood-orange, orange-laced carrot purée, orange and endive salad, and bigarade sauce. An essentially fairly mainstream dish of turbot poached in citrus with herbed Chardonnay butter sauce was less than successfully partnered with chunks of confit Delica pumpkin that would have done better with the duck. A Turkish note is sounded in a small steamed yoghurt sponge coated in sesame seeds for a dessert that comes with vanilla cream rippled with black olive caramel, or there may be a great wedge of griottine and almond tart with fantastic pastry, only let down by very pallidly flavoured pistachio ice cream. 

The wines are an adventurous modern collection, with stars from Turkey and Georgia alongside the skin-contact and 'funky' offerings. Seek the readily forthcoming advice. In a recent development, the owners have launched Labombe, a wine bar open every Monday evening in the restaurant's bar space. Alongside the rich depths of Trivet's full cellar, punters can look forward to a special by-the-glass selection from master sommelier Isa Bal, plus a blackboard menu of snacks and small plates.

Warmth 'with a capital W’ is one of the prime assets at this Islington crowd-puller, which has been hitting all the right notes since opening in 2010. Matching a glowing interior and pleasing comfort with homely but vivacious Italian food, Trullo is a neighbourhood winner – whether you’re seated in the pleasingly modest ground floor (bare boards, velvet banquettes, cream walls, cheffy photos) or settled in an alcove in the atmospheric, low-lit basement. The whole place exudes a happy vibe, helped along by calm, cool, clued-up staff. On offer is a menu of unfussy yet finessed cooking with hand-rolled pasta as one of the star turns – from silky pappardelle with a deeply rich, long-cooked beef ragù to textbook pici cacio e pepe (the comforting squidge of perfectly cooked pasta, the sharpness of pecorino, the heat as you crunch into the cracked black pepper). Paper tablecloths mean you can get messy without embarrassment. After that, the oven and charcoal grill come into play, doling out everything from Brixham brill with confit garlic to spiced duck leg with Marsala – its exceptionally crispy skin contrasting with the sticky, softness of stewed onion, endive and prunes. Details such as the salt-crusted focaccia with fruity, pleasantly bitter Le Ferre estate olive oil for dipping are much appreciated, and there’s no stinting on the booze when it’s tiramisu time. Drinks include a decent selection of vermouths and a comprehensive list of Italian regional wines.

Atul Kochhar was among the first generation of chefs to reinvent Indian cooking for the modern age. At his second Marlow address (he also runs Sindhu by the riverside), a gentle atmosphere is created by means of muted woodland colours, a sequence of matching framed pictures and festoon lighting across the ceiling.

However, there is plenty to excite the imagination on a series of resourceful menus that might feature tandoori broccoli with tomato chutney and pomegranate to start, or perhaps baked spiced scallops with cauliflower purée and herb-scented ghee. Spicing is generally found to be on the mild side, so don't expect to be blasted with chilli – certainly not when lobster cooked in the tandoor comes with caramelised tomato and coconut korma alongside a grilled pineapple salad.

A knowledgeable reader was particularly impressed by what Kochhar makes of traditional dishes like dhal makhani and saag gosht, but it is the more speculative ideas such as muntjac venison with aubergine, celeriac purée and a sauce of berries and chocolate that will tantalise a novelty-hungry crowd. By the time desserts are offered, the influence of Subcontinental cooking may have receded to a dot on the Indian Ocean horizon – or so it seems with carrot cake and walnut brittle, or chocolate fondant with berry salsa. Prepare your palate with an apposite cocktail such as a fragrantly fizzy jaggery and coriander mojito, before moving on to full-bodied wines with bags of tang.

Like all good things, the UK’s oldest Indian restaurant (estab. 1926) has spawned a string of imitators under the aegis of Ranjit Mathrani, Namitha and Camellia Panjabi (the family behind Chutney Mary, Amaya and the Masala Zone group), but Veeraswamy simply shrugs off the years and carries on as before. A lift whisks you from street level to the first-floor dining room where large windows overlook Regent Street and the warm, cossetting decor nods to the Days of the Raj with vintage memorabilia. Backstage, chefs deftly layer flavour upon flavour in home-style cooking that blends renditions of the classic repertoire with some exceptional house specials. Ideas are lifted from all over India: Malvani prawn curry from the south Konkan coast comes in a rich sauce heady with turmeric, red chilli, coconut and dried kokum flower, while an unusual crab biryani from Bhatkal (in the coastal area of western India) is a superb exploration of the power of aged basmati rice to absorb flavours – here saffron and cinnamon leaf – while letting the delicacy of the fresh crustacean to shine. Street food puts in an appearance too: momos (Tibetan dumplings) are now fully absorbed into Indian street culture – here they are filled with chicken, softly steamed and finished in the tandoor. The sourcing of ingredients is important too. Welsh lamb supplies the tender chops that are grilled with a blend of cloves, fennel and rose petal, and go so well with a fine pineapple curry. And one of the most likeable things on the menu is the excellent homemade paneer prepared using full-fat Jersey milk and served in a light tomato sauce with peppers, garden peas, and cashew nuts. Naan fingers with garlic and sea salt are light and soft, service is friendly and attentive, and wines have been chosen for compatibility with the food.

From the team behind Primeur and Jolene comes a repurposed laundry within a full-throated roar of Arsenal's Emirates Stadium. An expansive courtyard area with an olive tree and a serviceable veranda makes for pleasant outdoor eating, while the dining room itself – reached through retractable doors – is a welcome change from the brutal, wooden East London norm (note the yellow velour seating). Indeed, the evening scene is lit with the glow of candles. Dishes are written up on the blackboard, with a range of Spanish-influenced smaller plates leading the charge. A version of ajo blanco with kohlrabi and cucumber is refreshing to the palate and the imagination, while baked cuttlefish could be the star of an aïoli-dressed pasta offering. Seafood is very much the point, furnishing smoked eel with hispi and horseradish, and providing substantial mains such as hake or monkfish with robust accompaniments – mussels and lentils for the former, chestnut pipérade for the latter. Forcefully dressed salads and sides such as sweet and (not so) sour courgettes with olives and pine nuts fill in the details, while dessert could be apple pie with Calvados custard or rum baba for sharing. Wines are a reasonable selection of vibrant varietals, but bottle mark-ups tend to the severe.

As dining rooms go there can be few more striking than this dramatic double-height space on the ground floor of the Sofitel St James Hotel. It's very grand, in a famous Parisian brasserie kind of way – a smart, polished environment that caters for a well-heeled crowd. Anthony Demetre remains a hands-on presence and a key part in the friendly, welcoming atmosphere that keeps guests coming back for more. His kitchen continues to turn out a mix of French classics with gentle modern touches and a fierce adherence to the seasons. Wild mushroom tart served with a fricassée of wild mushrooms and hazelnut sabayon, or crispy chicken with hand-cut macaroni and black winter truffles, typify the fresh, lively flavours that could be followed, perhaps, by fallow deer and slow-cooked celeriac with walnut and cocoa, kumquat marmalade and a grand veneur sauce. Finish with the signature wild-honey ice cream served with Bermondsey raw honeycomb, warm honey and lemon madeleine, though for some reporters, the sweet comfort of a classic custard tart can’t be beaten. The set lunch and pre-theatre menu is splendid value. There’s a serious dedication to drinks, too, with well-tailored cocktails and a wine list that takes in a sweeping global shuffle, lingering longest in France.

The Wright Brothers restaurant group, run by seafood merchants and brothers-in-law Ben Wright and Robin Hancock, celebrated its 20th anniversary in 2022 and this – their original site – remains hugely popular. Bordering the bustle of Borough Market, the lively 'Oyster & Porter House' is dominated by counter seating, with a fair few tables for larger groups and a welcome lack of ostentation. Kick things off with some oysters (naturally), push the boat out on a seafood platter or swerve the bivalves entirely: the rest of the menu puts the spotlight firmly on daily deliveries of fresh seafood from Britain’s coastal waters, and everything is handled impeccably. After crab croquettes or a robust, deeply savoury fish soup (complete with the customary croûtons, grated Comté and a rich, garlicky rouille), there are the mainstays – perhaps a signature fish pie (the epitome of comfort eating) or moules marinière with fries. Elsewhere, the daily specials board could promise skate wing with capers, beurre noisette and new potatoes, while other species such as whitebait, sardines, brill, bream and plaice are well timed and served with simple accompaniments – aïoli or salsa verde, perhaps. Round things off with a little chocolate pot, lemon posset, Neal’s Yard cheeses or a scoop of homemade ice cream. Craft beers, Wright Bros pilsner or oyster stout are winning libations, and the wine list majors on whites but with some interesting fish-friendly reds too. Do book: walk-ins are often turned away, even for an early weekday supper.

Although the counter seating by the downstairs kitchen is long gone, this slice of Argentina in Marylebone still conjures up a moody Buenos Aires hangout, complete with chequered floor tiles, red leather banquettes and stools at the bar. To begin, the focus is on gently deconstructed small plates and signature flavours – from the best-selling provoleta (baked provolone cheese slathered with oregano honey and almonds) to sea bream ceviche or warm green asparagus partnered by a soft-boiled egg, almonds ‘ajo blanco’ and bottarga di muggine (salted, pressed and dried grey mullet roe). After that, it’s all about hefty pampas-reared Argentinian steaks, including classic cuts such as bife ancho (ribeye), lomo (fillet) and asado (grilled flank, served with Roscoff onions, Taleggio cheese sauce and salsa verde). Alternatively, try a fish dish – perhaps grilled monkfish with braised white asparagus, a jamón-spiked ragoût of green peas and chicken jus. If you manage to make it to dessert and you’re not counting the calories, go for the warm cinnamon and rhubarb jam roll with spicy custard and Chantilly cream; otherwise, the ubiquitous dulce de leche turns up in a crème brûlée. House cocktails provide added temptation, and the all-Argentinian wine list dips into the country’s regional vineyards, with bottles from £32.