Editor’s Pick: 9 places I'll be booking for Restaurant Month
Published 14 January 2026

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.

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.

The Radford family’s follow-up to their Edinburgh flagship Timberyard shares its traits as a singularly stylish and occasionally esoteric place to eat. Perched at the top of Montrose Terrace, an all-white paint job had erased signs of its past life as a pansies-in-the-window pub and sets the tone for minimalist interiors, neutral tones and natural textures.

There are two ways to enjoy Montrose. On the ground floor, a warmly lit wine bar attracts an all-day crowd who come for the roster of light plates (sardines on toast, say) and the magnificent drinks list – a well of creativity, curated by Anna Sebelova and shared with Timberyard. Vermouths, liqueurs and bitters are all made in-house, while softs such as hibiscus and wormwood kombucha or the unusual savoury notes of Koseret tea keep things interesting for the abstainers.

Upstairs, chef Moray Lamb’s cooking gets a little more serious with a set menu of four courses (plus canapés and petits fours) for around £80. The atmosphere is more serious too, with space for just 15 diners, tables dressed in unbleached linens and light coming mostly from the dim glow of pillar candles – although a two-hour time allocation on tables puts Montrose at odds with its tasting menu compatriots elsewhere in the city.

Our winter visit began with a duo of superlative snacks (a delicate smoked eel doughnut, and a bite of choux au craquelin filled with Gubbeen cheese), while an opener of Shetland squid in a tangle of noodle-like strips felt more technically interesting than lovably delicious. A beautifully wobbly veal sweetbread blanketed in a silky Jerusalem artichoke sauce suffered from a hint of over-seasoning, but nothing could trump the triumphant savoury finale – pink-fleshed sika deer with sophisticated accompaniments including celeriac, pine and juniper.

The wine list is also a triumph – an oenophile’s tour of English and European viticulture, with the emphasis on organic and natural production. Choices by the glass are many and varied, but also look for bottles highlighted in ‘orange’. Overall, we found the service to be informed and amiable, if a little softly spoken at times. Our advice: save the moody refinement of the restaurant for an intimate occasion and revel in the buzzy fun of the wine bar as frequently as possible.

He may not have the public profile of all-conquering Rick Stein, but Paul Ainsworth is a big player in Padstow these days – and this engaging Georgian townhouse is his gastronomic HQ. Cool artwork and a ‘great soundtrack’ add some upbeat vibes to the two modest dining rooms, while staff get a special mention for their thoroughly professional attitude and ‘sense of humour’. That said, Ainsworth's cooking is indubitably the star of the show. The menu is divided into four sections highlighting the chef’s technical prowess, his loyalty to seasonal produce and his bold culinary imagination. Ainsworth's modish approach and his pairing of disparate ingredients may seem tantalisingly outré, but the results invariably draw ‘sighs of pleasure’: ‘bird’s liver’ with carrot ketchup and smoked eel; truffle-cured cod with roast chicken and manzanilla; ‘all of the pigeon’, various gamey conceits including a confit leg wrapped in crispy shredded kataifi pastry sitting on umeboshi condiment (made from Japanese salted plums), followed by a dark pain au chocolat filled with the remaining bits of the bird. To finish, there might be some artisan cheese with 'apple pie', but all eyes inevitably turn to the near-legendary ‘Fairground Tale’ (as seen on TV). Roll up for three edible sideshows: the ‘old tyme coconut shy’ (a towering bitter chocolate and coconut soufflé with chilled cocoa and rum custard); a miniature, hand-painted wooden carousel bearing a chocolate bar and a crunchy brown-butter choc ice wrapped in paper; and finally, ‘all the fun of the fair’ – a wickedly rich muscovado-glazed doughnut served warm with raspberry curd and butter-roasted peanuts. Matching this is a wine list stuffed with bottles that the owners like to drink; France claims pole position but the range is global, and there are some tasty by-the-glass selections too. ‘A brilliant dining experience that made the six-hour drive down from Kent more than worthwhile,’ concluded one couple.

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.

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.

Weighing in at 500 covers, this gastronomic leviathan from the team behind Fallow in St James's harks back to the 1990s and the outsized destinations of the Conran empire, although it couldn’t be more forward-looking. A giant 3D-printed coral sculpture helps break up the expansive sweep of the dining room, which opens onto a terrace overlooking Canary Wharf’s South Dock, while an aeroponic ‘growing wall’ provides naturally verdant decoration.

Jack Croft and Will Murray's cooking is all about the big flavours on the sharing plates rather than the sustainable, zero-waste ideas behind them – mercifully there are no earnest tableside lectures here. Every dish we ordered made an impact: deep-fried cuttlefish toast with puffed pork skin and sesame offered a chunky, juicy and sustainable spin on the Chinese restaurant classic, while a flatbread topped with Devon crab, tomato, chilli and basil was an outstandingly light and elegant example of the genre. Best of all was a skewer of meltingly tender, rare-breed pork belly served on a wooden board (a signature of the restaurant), redolent of the grill and supercharged with green Thai chilli paste, yakitori glaze and sriracha sauce – all made in-house.

A well-drilled front-of-house team offers the sort of friendly, personal service you’d associate with a neighbourhood bistro rather than a swanky gastrodrome, although a lack of experience was evident at times during our visit. There are some tantalising (and not greedily marked-up) choices on the wine list – our South African Dorper Chenin Blanc was excellent. Overall, Roe offers thoughtful, exciting and distinctive food that’s easy to love and difficult to forget. It’s a winning combination.

With forested hills sloping onto fields of grazing sheep and the Gothic remains of Byland Abbey towering over the entrance, this pub with rooms is a dream ticket – no wonder it was snapped up by chef Tommy Banks (the Black Swan at Oldstead is nearby). Inside, there’s a little bar with a snug for those wanting a drink, but the main action takes place in the three dining rooms, one of which is the former piggery – an expansive room with beams, giant flagstones and a double-facing log-burning stove, all illuminated by a conservatory-style skylight. The mood is relaxed and staff stay on top of their tasks, while cute details in the handsome finishes speak of Tommy Banks’ pedigree.

The food also makes a connection to the Banks family farm (without labouring the point), and chef Charlie Smith serves up a procession of seriously appealing, modern pub-style dishes – an incredibly original Dexter steak tartare, perhaps, cut into uniform nuggets resembling translucent rubies decorated with grated wild horseradish, fermented peppers and smoked bone marrow. Elsewhere, there might be a light, elegant plate of smoked Pablo beetroot with ewe’s curd, preserved Yorkshire rhubarb and linseed crackers for texture. Some of the meaty main courses such as a pork rib chop with fermented mushroom béarnaise could do with a little finessing, although fish dishes hit the spot – judging by a pitch-perfect serving of cod with a splendid mussel cream sauce and purple-red potatoes on the side.

Everything is executed with flair, professionalism and a deep respect for local ingredients – and that extends to the dazzling roasts served for Sunday lunch (check out the rare-breed Berkshire pork and Herdwick lamb from the family farm, just two miles away). If you're looking for real value, however, order the mighty Dexter cheeseburger with fries, plus a pint of Yorkshire-brewed ale and a shared dessert – say a soft-serve sundae topped with Douglas fir, blackcurrant and white chocolate. Aside from real ale, drinks include seasonal cocktails, homemade libations and a short but decent selection of wines with plenty by the glass.

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.