High tops: the best restaurants for counter dining
Published 14 February 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.

On the Mews Level of the Great Northern development, Another Hand looks exactly like we expect today's city-centre restaurant to look: bare brick walls, plenty of light wood, an open kitchen at the back, shelves of bottles, abstract art. What's more, its menu of veg-oriented sharing plates provisioned by northwestern suppliers has plenty of supporters. Here's why. 'The dishes are so inventive in terms of flavour and texture, but without pretension,' explains a fan, going on to cite a juxtaposition of bitter chicory with chestnut purée, the 'lion's mane' mushroom steak with chocolate mole, and the array of piquant pickles on flatbread. 'The staff are lovely, and the wine is heaven' – although it could as easily be the other way round. There is certainly culinary energy to burn in spry combinations such as smoked beetroot with horseradish, pickled mustard seeds, preserved blackberries and 'charcoal cream', or the adventurous partnering of Shetland scallops with curried carrot, burnt orange and lemon verbena – an exercise in colour collision worthy of Matisse. Meat dishes are equally energetic – an expertly rendered pork chop teamed with Crown Prince pumpkin and rhubarb, all textured with puffed grains, for example. Finish home-style with bergamot and lemon cheesecake with white chocolate, cornflake crunch and 'old-fashioned lemonade'. If skin-contact wines are your thing, there are some interesting experiments here (note the French Gewürztraminer and Argentinian Torrontes), but the regular selections inspire confidence too. Don't flinch at a potion called Succulent Blood, a cocktail blend of mezcal with blood orange, lime and cinnamon. We wouldn't be surprised to hear that Manchester runs on it.

There's no more appetising way to eat fresh seafood than overlooking a harbour, with a busy fish market close by. Such is the scene at Argoe, which is perched above Mount's Bay at Newlyn. Classic European ways inform the menus, which might kick off with an appetiser of marinated octopus or deeply flavoured home-smoked cod's roe offset by sharp gherkins.

Summer visitors were mightily pleased with their crab, green beans and tomatoes, as well as 'meaty’ balls of minced and braised ray with saffron onions. A whole megrim sole straight from the grill provides a world of ozone-scented satisfaction, dressed in nothing more than browned butter and lemon (‘a faultless piece of fish cookery’), while grilled lobsters (‘deliciously fresh and rich’) are reckoned to be particularly good value, simply doused in herb butter.

A winter menu might feature smoked hake with white beans and leeks, with hand-dived scallops, sardines and black bream being given the grill treatment. There are also a few creative veggie alternatives too – perhaps  roast carrots with pickled walnut and a soft boiled egg. Desserts are simple but far from a mere afterthought, taking in the likes of rhubarb pavlova or clementine sorbet blasted with vodka. A short list of constantly changing but quite pricey low-intervention wines has included a pét-nat version of Beaujolais rosé and a skin-contact German Riesling.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

Brett successfully pulls off that tricky balance of delivering high-class and complex cooking within a buzzy neighbourhood atmosphere. Exposed stonework and monochrome decor provide an unfussy backdrop for closely packed tables and counter seating, where diners might appreciate the 'interactions with the chefs whose enthusiasm is infectious'.  Front of house is warm and casual, while table settings are equally laid-back – raw linen napkins providing a cheeky decorative nod to Glasgow iconography. 

Under executive chef Colin Anderson, the offer has evolved from a ‘naturally’ inclined wine bar with small plates to a focused à la carte restaurant – although drinks and nibbles remain a popular pavement option on sunny days. Menus showcase seasonality and localism, plus a passion for cooking over fire in the open galley kitchen. Snacks such as a Basque-inspired gilda (skewered olives, anchovies and spicy pickled pepper) on a chicken-fat croûton or flame-scorched barbecued lamb breast with Scotch bonnet and aubergine miso prepare the palate – perhaps with an extended skin-contact orange wine as an aperitif. 

Starters might include a rich but not cloying mushroom XO linguine with Cantabrian anchovies and aged Parmesan topped with crispy leek 'angel-hair'. A standout main of stuffed chicken 'hind' and Orkney scallop served ballotine style and finished with morel purée and a consommé of chicken bone and scallop exemplifies the kitchen's culinary craft. The small dessert selection could include a golden mango and Flor de Caña brûlée with crispy milk skin and pulled toffee, which is imaginative and suitably grown-up. 

Quality cooking and ingredients don’t come cheap, even in a neighbourhood setting, and three courses can easily hit £75 without drinks. This makes the two-course lunchtime option for £32 particularly tempting. Distinctive house cocktails and some interesting rotating wines by the glass are supported by an extensive bottled list ranging from £29 for the house options to north of £300 for some fancy Burgundies.

Following a trial-run pop-up in nearby Potten End, Crockers decamped to Tring in 2018 and is now one of the town's prized culinary assets. Behind the understated battleship-grey frontage, the action plays out across three floors, with pride of place going to the ‘chef’s table’ arena reached via two flights of stairs. This is an agreeable contemporary space with copper-clad walls, a battery of hanging lamps illuminating the pass, a three-sided counter and 16 leather stools arranged ringside. All eyes are on chef Scott Barnard, a natural front man who regales guests with informed and entertaining banter as successive courses appear. Tasting menus open with modish snacks and splendid bread – don’t miss the crusty, yeasty mini loaf laced with beer from Tring Brewery. A procession of savoury dishes highlights the kitchen’s precise, tweezered attention to detail and its respect for seasonal ingredients. A piece of gently cooked Cornish turbot is embellished with mussels and burnished golden-yellow smoked pike roe, while succulent Anjou pigeon sits well with its companions – celeriac, buckwheat, pear and a drizzle of honey vinegar to cut through the gamey richness. The cheese course is an elegantly constructed miniature, while dessert sees the kitchen playing tricks with the classics – as in a delightfully reimagined rhubarb cheesecake adorned with dots of rhubarb gel, a lozenge of rhubarb sorbet and shards of perfumed rose meringue. By contrast, the high-ceilinged ground-floor room offers a more sedate vibe, charmingly attentive service and food with a gentler price tag. A truncated tasting menu (£60) and a no-brainer lunch deal (£35, Fri and Sat only) bring the likes of slow-cooked pork belly with confit celeriac, lovage, cabbage and pear purée – fabulously melting meat with thoughtfully chosen seasonal accompaniments. And if you fancy a pre/post-prandial drink in the evening, head to the cellar bar for belting cocktails and eclectic wines from a cherry-picked, 50-strong list with plenty of surprises.

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.

Drinks List Of The Year 2024

After two decades cooking in such respected Brighton restaurants as the Coal Shed, the Salt Room and Gingerman, Dave Mothersill has set out his own stall. And what a stall it is. Located close to the Royal Pavilion, this contemporary eatery – mirrors, modernist tables and chairs, parquet floors – delivers cooking that soars far beyond standard bistro fare. Mothersill draws on childhood memories, family and his own travels to create epic set menus peppered with dishes ranging from a jewel-like raw Orkney scallop with ponzu and yuzu, preserved rhubarb, horseradish/elderflower sorbet and peppery marigold leaves to a classy, marshmallow-soft Selim pepper meringue with rhubarb, buckwheat crumble and rhubarb granita. Each course yields vivid flavours, on-point cooking and artful presentation, the ingredients unsurpassed – from line-caught sea bass (cooked just so) with fat asparagus, courgette, pea purée and a sauce of smoked sea bass bones, smoked butter, miso and mirin to pink, tender salt-aged Devon duck brushed with burnt honey and teamed with morels and a sauce made with duck offcuts, hazelnut and Kampot pepper. Seasonality is everything. A springtime creation of confit Jersey Royals, salted gooseberries, straw potato fries, smoked eel and Exmoor caviar, for example, delivers a comforting, clever and unpredictable take on the humble spud. Even the simplest sounding dishes exceed expectations – a feather-light, tear-and-share brown butter-glazed Parker House roll, perhaps, served with wild-garlic butter, or a velvety duck liver parfait topped with sweet, citrussy yuzu. This is cooking that rarely puts a foot wrong – top-grade dining without the stuffiness and pomp. The whole place is relaxed, vibey and cool, driven by staff who know the full story of every dish, from sourcing to plate. An international wine list matches the sophistication of the food, with some excellent local and natural pours catching the eye.

With its impressive abstract paintings, café-style furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows opening onto a homely little pavement terrace, effortlessly stylish Gloriosa gives off a seductive Mediterranean vibe on sunny days. Rosie Healey's cooking matches the lively mood with equally sunny sharing dishes that come out swinging as and when they’re ready. An opener of bluefin tuna crudo, chilli, capers and lemon should reawaken any tired taste buds, or you can seek comfort in a dish of roast cauliflower with labneh, saffron and pistachio. Larger plates major in robust pasta riffs including pappardelle with pork ragù and Parmesan, while fish dishes tend to be sturdy, as in braised squid with potato, mussels and aïoli. Alternatively, consider something seasonal and gamey – perhaps whole partridge with squash agrodolce and hazelnut sauce. Desserts veer towards the sharper end of the spectrum, yielding Amalfi lemon sorbet with frozen vodka or raspberry and almond clafoutis. Knowledgeable, very friendly staff manage proceedings admirably. A carefully constructed wine list spotlights small growers, and you might fancy sipping a spicy Margarita before you get started.

In the spirit of its namesake, Heron perches intently on the Water of Leith, peering out towards the cranes and dockyards of Edinburgh’s old port. On brighter days, light floods into the airy, high-ceilinged dining room through vast, wraparound windows. Originally the post-lockdown creation of Tomás Gormley and Sam Yorke, the kitchen now sits under the sole authority of the latter, with Gormley installed as chef at Stockbridge’s Skua. Regardless, Heron continues to impress.

Canapés are flawless: a delicately fluted nori cup is filled with fruity, tender langoustine, tart plum and pressed cucumber, while a wafer-thin croustade combines rich, herbal gribiche with musky flakes of Arbroath smokie. Moving deeper into the menu, a veal sweetbread coated with a hugely savoury sourdough glaze sits on creamy celeriac purée with sugary bursts of candied walnut, the dish perfectly balancing sweetness and intense, malty umami. Elsewhere, a solitary Hasselback Jersey Royal is presented in a pool of deliciously rich oyster crème fraîche, with cod roe providing some contrasting salinity.

This balancing act continues into the final course, where a chocolate-dipped boule conceals a light, milky mousse and luscious, velvety salted caramel, alongside a subtly spiced chai ice cream. Like everything else on offer here, it is immaculately and precisely presented. Service breaks with the stifling formality of traditional fine dining, pleasingly opting for a warm, cheerful and knowledgeable approach – especially when selecting drinks to match the varied and complex menu.

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

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).

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.

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.

Located in the Baltic Triangle regeneration district, amid towering redbrick former warehouses, Manifest is a sure indicator of where Liverpool's contemporary dining scene is right now. ‘This place is incredible,’ writes a reporter, ‘with a great atmosphere and well set-out’ – that last detail referring to the centrally sited kitchen, which makes just about everywhere in the compact space feel like a chef's table. The focus of Paul Durand's repertoire is on foraging, fermenting and preserving in the modern manner, with lots of bold, attention-grabbing flavours, the initial statement of which is a bowl of the now-legendary warm vinegar crisps.

Assertive technique and immaculate presentation distinguish dishes ranging from a starter of torched sea trout with squash velouté, sea beet and nasturtium to a plate of celeriac given the char siu treatment, accompanied by burnt apple and hazelnuts. For main course, there could be Creedy Carver duck with beetroot, plum and pancakes (another distantly allusive Chinese reference), while fruity sea buckthorn makes a strategic appearance with cod loin, carrot and a sauce incorporating smoked mussels. A successful umami-drenched veggie option to ward off the winter chills might be January King cabbage with yeast extract, potato salad and garlic.

Finish with a cheese plate that might partner Old Roan Wensleydale with bara brith and marmalade, or plump for rhubarb dressed in spent Champagne with a sablé biscuit. The ‘chef's choice’ menu with a three-glass wine flight will come in handy if Liverpool is in the mood to celebrate.

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’.

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.

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).

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.

As soon as you walk through the Ox Club's door, the smell of smoke preps you for the unplugged open-fire cooking that lies ahead. Mid-century furniture and houseplants soften the industrial feel of the brick and concrete room, while some clever landscaping partitions it out to give the whole place a cosy ambience.

Heading the kitchen is Tom Hunter, a former sous-chef at the sadly departed Reliance – an influence that can be seen in dishes such as blister-skinned grilled sardines with a refreshing tangle of fennel, black olive and blood orange. There’s a subtle char and smokiness to everything here: watermelon is grilled slowly until even the rind is tenderised, while beef tartare (served with gherkin ketchup and a veil of shoestring potatoes) also gets a whiff of smoke.

The steak offering is focused – a 400g sirloin or 1kg côte de boeuf sharer are mainstays – but regular ‘chop nights’ cater to more specific tastes, with specialist cuts from regular Yorkshire suppliers R&J Butchers. Rare-breed pork is grilled to give an almost impossible crackling and, like a hulked-up carnitas taco, is served with tajin, chipotle and pineapple ketchup, while a sour cherry-glazed kofta is made with lamb reared at local Harewood Food & Drink Project – headed up by former Ox Club sous-chef Will Campbell.

Sunday roasts are praised and the whole show is enhanced by laid-back but well-informed service. As for drinks, there's a fair selection of around 20 (mostly organic) wines from £28 a bottle, with plenty available by the glass from £8.

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.

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. 

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.

‘Simplicity, modesty, passion’ – three little words that sum up Francesca and Wesley Smalley’s well-run modern restaurant just off Maidenhead town centre. The bright interior is dominated by a gleaming central island kitchen, and the unique design of the place ‘makes every diner feel like they have a seat at the chef’s table.’ Here, Wesley conjures up a roster of assured, seasonally inspired dishes, while also finding time to greet customers when they arrive. His smart, innovative menu is peppered with delicious enticements, with flavours gleaned from across the culinary globe – from ‘patatas bravas’ fondant to sake-cured sea trout with Waltham beets and grelot onions via the familiarity of roast cod with spring vegetables, peas and smoked bacon velouté. Desserts such as pistachio crème brûlée or a chocolate and cherry choux bun maintain Seasonality's enviably high standards. In addition to the regular fixed-priced menu, there’s now a modest lunchtime carte featuring some of the chef’s current favourites. Just add charming service and a wine list that's arranged by style and weight, with a good choice by the glass.

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.

Bright, modern, confident and ‘very buzzy’, Socius has the air of an urban restaurant – despite a location in one of Norfolk’s most attractive (and gentrified) little towns. It’s part of a new development on the outskirts of Burnham Market and benefits from the extra space this entails. A large open kitchen stretches almost the length of the ground floor, giving ample opportunity to see the well-run culinary operation; there’s less bustle in the mezzanine, where white walls sport splashes of copper paint and Velux windows allow natural light to flood the stylish, minimalist interior. Young, on-the-ball staff and a soundtrack of upbeat yet unobtrusive pop complete the cheery vibe.

The weekday menu majors in contemporary sharing plates. Try the beetroot chunks with creamed goat's cheese – tangy beetroot purée, whisps of fennel and a scattering of pumpkin seeds adding extra punch. Better still at inspection was the tuna tartare, its soft flesh boosted by pickled ginger and a poppadom-like ‘wonton’. Both these dishes also feature as starters on a Sunday lunch menu where succulent pink slices of beef are ably supported by an excellent cast of side dishes (faultless roast potatoes, shredded cabbage, cauliflower cheese, carrots, creamed parsnips) and first-rate gravy.

Grilled pollock with asparagus showed split-second accuracy in the cooking, and puddings, too, maintained the standard: an intensely flavoured Socius chocolate bar (resembling an elongated truffle) with salted caramel and ice cream, plus a perfectly wrought crème brûlée scattered with desiccated coconut and counterbalanced by flavour-packed fresh raspberries. Throw in a pleasingly varied wine list and Socius deserves its place in the top division of Norfolk dining.

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.

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.