The best of Restaurant Month 2026: your favourites
Published 11 February 2026

It may be squirrelled away in the little Derbyshire town of New Mills, surrounded by the rugged High Peaks, but Tavola’s ‘welcoming atmosphere makes you feel like you’ve walked into a Sicilian home’. Locals have certainly taken the place to their hearts and the owners have responded, drenching the interior in sunshine-yellow and filling every corner with Sicilian knick-knacks. Ring the bell for admittance and surrender to the unusual comfort of a huge regional menu full of appetising possibilities. Antipasti range from fingers of sfincione (Sicilian pizza) to mangia e bevi (another street-food classic from Palermo involving chargrilled spring onions wrapped in guanciale with salmoriglio). Pasta is homemade too – perhaps twisted casarecce with a creamy pistachio sauce. Locally reared lamb is also given a spicy Sicilian makeover, while desserts including crisp, ricotta-stuffed 'bigne' choux buns show off solid pastry skills. Drinks run from Italian ciders to soft spritzes and natural wines made in terracotta pots, but you'll always know you're in New Mills: the bill comes with a selection of sweets from the neighbouring Swizzels factory.

It's easy to see why this laid-back neighbourhood diner in the heart of Stokes Croft attracts such a loyal following. Blending classy, seasonal cooking from chef Matty Groves (formerly of Bath’s Menu Gordon Jones) with a friendly, relaxed atmosphere in unpretentious surroundings, a meal here is a reliably good night out. And it may take the whole night – service is never less than charming,  but it can be slow at times. A recent reconfiguration has seen the kitchen move downstairs, allowing space for a chef’s table private-dining experience. The ground-floor dining room now feels a little lighter and brighter, though not much has changed about the shabby-chic, dark blue and white decor, save for a lick of white paint.

Menu-wise, it’s worth ruining your appetite by dipping into the snack section, perhaps for a home-baked toasted crumpet topped with gooey Cheddar emulsion and a tangle of piquant onion. Follow on with, say, a starter of warm crab and crayfish butter with fresh herbs and house bread. Mains could be a classic French onglet with peppercorn sauce, frites and Strode valley salad or a beautifully executed plate of hand-rolled tagliatelle with girolles and toasted pine nuts bathed in a rich Parmesan and butter sauce that would make any nonna smile. Portions are generous, but do save space for the regularly changing homemade ice creams and sorbets. Fixed-price lunches are a steal.

The drinks list offers cocktails, local ciders and ales, but wine is a strength here, so you can rely on decent-value house selections or take the opportunity to try out something new. The owners also run Carmen Street Wine (a bottle shop and wine bar) just round the corner. 

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.

Originally born out of a few stacked shipping containers in formerly industrial Kelham Island, this modern eatery has gone from strength to strength at its new location. Luke and Stacey Sherwood-French's Jöro is now housed in a 19th-century paper mill amid the rolling peaks of Oughtibridge Valley, complete with seven apartment rooms as well as a terrace coffee shop and bar. As the umlaut might suggest, Jöro’s sensibilities are generally Nordic in their embrace of rawness, fermentation, and simplicity of preparation; roughly translated, Jöro means 'earth', though the ingredients and flavours take more of a steer from Asian cooking.

This clear ideology helps bring cohesion to a menu with references as diverse as Northern nostalgia (albeit with Swiss cheese-filled viennoiserie served with compressed pineapple), a touch of Sicilian rustic charm, obscure Japanese ferments, savoury French toast, and the comfort of a fresh-baked cookie finale, all within the space of an excellent-value, 90-minute 'Ö.5' lunch tasting menu (just one of three tasters on offer). Chalkstream trout – salted for 10 days and served with an Amalfi lemon remix of the Japanese yuzu ferment kosho –  has always been a Jöro highlight, but it’s a pleasure to see celeriac get its moment in the sun as well (here glazed in a ginger teriyaki and cooked over coals, served on celeriac espuma and under yet more, crispy, celeriac). 

Wines are accessibly priced and helpfully communicated (a pairing for our lunch menu was a bargain at £32), and there’s an impressively considered menu of non-alcoholic homemade sodas and juices – enough to form a pairing flight of their own.

The sophisticated big sister to Slad’s Woolpack Inn, this all-day bistro marries a modern European menu with a decidedly old-world French vibe. Large windows flood the long, narrow white room with light, while linen-draped tables, black leather banquettes, rich mahogany sideboards and a parquet floor evoke the understated elegance of a bygone era.

The menu is arranged as a series of sharing plates of escalating size, brought in order, so that one might start with an oyster or oeuf mayonnaise from the snacks, before a more substantial dish of clams with Tropea onion and asparagus or beef tartare with pommes allumettes. Portions are generous, with the final dishes (maybe a butterflied mackerel scattered with agretti and bottarga) the size of a conventional main course.

Will Rees (formerly head chef at Wilsons in Bristol) and Oliver Gyde spin magic from sustainably sourced local ingredients, including salad leaves grown in owner Dan Chadwick’s walled garden at nearby Lypiatt Park. Lashings of grass-green olive oil, presumably not locally produced but none the less delicious for it, enriches many dishes and looks so pretty against the white plates. The standout from the short dessert menu is a decidedly grown-up apple tarte tatin, caramelised to within an inch of its life and served with crème fraîche.

Should you wish to take advantage of the impressive list of low-intervention and artisanal wines, Stroud train station is a mere stumble away. Service from the team of young, passionate staff brims with pride and enthusiasm.

‘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’.

One could easily drive straight past without registering La Locanda's special presence on the main road through Gisburn village. The solid stone building has no super-flashy signage, and there's no indication that this is anything other than a conventional 'pizza and pasta' pit stop. Yet, for over 20 years, Cinzia and Maurizio Bocchi have been raising the ‘tricolore’ in defiance of the 'fast-food, frozen lasagne and garlic bread' norm still typical of many Anglo-Italian restaurants.

The trattoria setting is homely and modest, with an intimate and unhurried atmosphere and a welcome in inverse proportion to the size of the cramped ground-floor bar. The seasonal menu requires some study, but there’s no rush and Cinzia is on hand to answer all questions. The focus is on a Slow Food-style carte that marries Italian regional dishes (including Maurizio's trademark pasta) and rigorously curated imported ingredients with local produce such as Goosnargh chicken, Gisburn Forest roe deer and Bowland wild garlic. A key part of the ethos is sustainability and authenticity, so the owners only work with like-minded suppliers. 

In summer, you might find specialities ranging from sardine fillets with red peppers, spaghetti alla Trapanese or outstanding pork-stuffed spinach tortellini to wild sea bass partnered with punchy emerald salsa verde or an unusual dish of marinated whitebait typical of the version made with the little freshwater fish of the Italian Lakes. For dessert, there are ice-cream sundaes and the best cannoli we have ever tasted – the secret is fresh ricotta sourced directly from Sicily. The all-Italian wine list is arranged by region, and there's also an extensive range of Italian beers, aperitifs, soft drinks and cocktails – not forgetting a 20-strong 'coffee menu'. 

In contrast to its traditional Cotswold frontage, this refreshingly informal enterprise deserves plaudits for its modern approach to fish cookery. The pleasing interior (stone-tiled flooring, bare stone walls decorated with maritime-themed artworks) is a serene spot where dressed-down regulars are greeted like old friends by the accommodating staff, and Bob Marley might be on the sound system. There’s also alfresco seating in the back yard and an extra room for overspill. As a bonus, a fresh fish stall is set up in the passageway alongside the restaurant every Friday. 

The menu changes with the market, but fresh oysters are usually up for grabs, the fish soup is a well-regarded fixture, and there’s a bargain, limited-choice set lunch (Wed-Fri) where the main course might be mussels with pancetta and cider cream. Cured meats and steak are the only non-marine alternatives. Prices are refreshing too, especially as main courses include a serving of vegetables (our red mullet comprised two immaculate fillets cooked to perfection in a buttery sauce of mussels and capers alongside a side dish of Cornish potatoes, broccoli and spring cabbage). This was preceded by a generous portion of ultra-fresh tuna sashimi and crispy noodles, somewhat overwhelmed by a strongly fishy nam jim jeaw Thai dressing. 

Desserts, however, are right on the money: our firm but wobbly panna cotta was sublimely matched with a rich and tangy kirsch/cherry compôte and amaretti crumb. Wines on the Old World-accented list are well-priced too, with whites unsurprisingly to the fore. Also look out for regular 'Super Sundays' featuring festive paellas, fruits de mer and suchlike. ‘Lucky locals,’ commented one reporter. 

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.

Charlie Sims and Honey Spencer opened Sune amid the video-production facilities and fight-clubs of rejuvenated Hackney in early 2024, at one edge of Broadway Market, behind a turquoise frontage on the main road but with a window at one end of the irregularly shaped room offering peeps on to the Regent's Canal. It's clearly been taken to heart by a gang of loyal regulars, and offers a warmly embracing style of service, with simple modern bistro dishes that emerge from a partially viewable kitchen.

Among the snacks, things in shells are not to be missed: a lovely Carlingford oyster acidulated with grapefruit juice and aromatised with fennel; a red-hot grilled scallop in blood-oranged Champagne butter. The three starters when we visited were a serving of wafer-thin ox tongue dressed in salsa verde and piled with watercress, a stracciatella salad, and – bemusingly – a hefty serving of roast lamb shoulder with leeks, wild garlic and labneh, a supporting act with ambitions to become the main draw, if ever there was. The actual main draws are less inspired then what goes before.

Fish and meat come in two sizes, the first perhaps a barbecued fillet of bream with untreated shredded kohlrabi, the latter a pork chop of such enormous heft that its larger sibling must be positively intimidating. It was decent meat, with plenty of fat, in a thin Madeira wash speckled with green peppercorns. To finish, lemon tart might come with obtrusively salted house-made mascarpone, but do make room for a couple of the salt caramel chocolate truffles. Wines are a bit of a jumble, with some slippage between the ‘natural’ and ‘white’ categories, but there is a clear effort to source interesting flavours to accompany the food.

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.

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).  

‘Great food, magnificent countryside and no passport queues!’ cheered one reporter, while another simply proclaimed, ‘This is all about happiness’. They were referring to the tastefully refreshed Gordon Arms – a fine old coaching inn, now a family-run restaurant with rooms. Guests are drawn into the comforting solidity of well-banked fires, convivial chat and a sense of respite from travel, while seasonality, sustainability and local sourcing are the kitchen’s watchwords. There’s a keen eye for value, too, although eating here also feels ‘elegant and exclusive’. Expect carefully prepared, rustic food from a chef who understands the quality of his raw materials and is content to let them shine: Yarrow Valley venison salami, wild garlic from the Ettrick Valley, beef from the Borders’ herds, and a veritable harvest festival of pickings from the orchard and garden. Elsewhere, honey from the glen is used to dress a ricotta-stuffed courgette flower, while rare-breed pork loin might be paired with ‘nduja-spiced chickpeas. The wine list is well-focused, with some interesting options and a decent selection by the glass or carafe.

The River Café's wittily named offshoot is considerably closer to the definition of a ‘café’ than the adjacent original. It opens early-ish for coffee, pastries and bruschette – local dogwalkers and joggers now map their routes around it – and stays open until late-ish, serving a scaled-back version of its elder sibling's menu. Dishes such as Parma ham, Amarone wine risotto, smashed chickpeas drenched in excellent olive oil or a slice of the famous chocolate nemesis are typical of the repertoire. For the full works, stick to the River Café, but for an impromptu snack or an aperitivo, this is the one. Sit inside (beneath a vast Damien Hirst) or out on the terrace.

*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.

Famed for its association with British author Laurie Lee (of Cider with Rosie fame), this attractive Cotswold stone hostelry clings to the side of the steeply beautiful Slad valley. On a sunny day, the best tables are in the vine-shaded garden, but venture inside and you'll discover a series of small, atmospheric rooms with locals at the bar, as well as a compact dining room with a mural of the Slad valley on the ceiling and a little cabinet displaying Lee's books for sale in one corner.

Pretty posies from the pub’s walled kitchen garden in Lypiatt adorn bare wood tables on scuffed wood floors – it all feels slightly shabby and historic, in the best possible way. There’s nothing rough-hewn about Adam Glover’s cooking, though, which brings a classical French sensibility to a wide-ranging array of European delights – say, a starter of fasolakia (Greek bean stew) with aged feta and oregano or a main course of pork schnitzel with fresh borlotti beans and girolles. You’d be well advised to work up a substantial appetite before dining here: dishes such as rabbit with pastis, saffron, fried bread and aïoli come in farm labourer-sized portions, especially if you order some 'dripping chips' on the side.

If you’ve still got room, pudding could be as simple as a bowl of cherries on ice or as indulgent as a Saint-Émilion au chocolat. There’s a decent selection of wine by the glass, carafe or bottle, but surely cider is the appropriate drink here, with properly made local stuff on tap or in fancier bottled form.

In the heart of Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter, this confident wine and tapas bar thrives on accessibility, warmth and fair value. A vibrant, cramped, white-tiled space with high stools to perch on, it’s the kind of place where ‘you pop in for an hour or two and end up there the whole night’. The kitchen’s repertoire of sharply executed Spanish-inspired food runs from small plates of jamón Ibérico, boquerones and pinxo morú (lamb brochettes) to assorted chargrills – pork chop with PX sauce, a massive chuleton rib steak or whole sardines (priced by weight) with aïoli. The never-off-the-menu Basque cheesecake is hard to trump. Modest prices extend to an illuminating list of Spanish wines.