92 Good Food Guide restaurants supporting StreetSmart
Published 13 November 2023

With ‘incredible’ panoramic views stretching over the city to the Pennines beyond, 20 Stories can be an eye-popping experience. Literally towering above its nearest rival when it comes to sheer glitz (ahoy down there, The Ivy Spinningfields!), it's got all the glamorous rooftop cocktails and golden light a socialite could wish for – with the bonus of bottomless brunches, afternoon teas and well-crafted ‘festive family roasts’ on Sundays.

The kitchen also has the chops when it comes to an à la carte menu loaded with good North Country produce and well-grounded technique – as in braised lamb shoulder with grilled heritage squash, BBQ sprouts and chestnuts or pan-roasted cod with cauliflower, fennel, orange and red wine sauce. You're paying for the food and the view, so competitively priced set lunches and pre-theatre deals are worth considering for 'well-made classics' such as seared salmon with courgettes, orzo and basil or a textbook flat iron steak with skinny fries.

Desserts are a highlight, from caramelised pear cheesecake or peach frangipane slice with apricot sorbet to the signature ‘20 Stories wonderland’.  Exhibitionists will love the wine list, drawn from a collection of 600 bins stored in five Eurocave fridges – although a ‘broader range at the lower end’ would be appreciated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Forget London! For some of the best Korean food in the UK, stay in Bristol and visit Kyu Jeon and Duncan Robertson’s modest but wholly authentic restaurant – a quirky, cramped space in Stokes Croft (known for its Banksy-esque street art, independent shops and lively nightlife). The best seats are on the ground floor; otherwise, descend to the basement dining room, where rough stone walls, chalkboard menus and the clattering of chopsticks give the place an air of friendly, authentic bustle.

The menu changes regularly, but there’s always banchan – those little plates of pickles, vegetables and other morsels that are the backbone of a Korean meal. With their range of flavours and textures, these little marvels of perfection are quite unique. Other not-to-be-missed delights range from a salad of Korean cabbage with toasted seaweed and pine nuts to a combo of spicy braised tofu with king oyster mushroom and Chinese greens, while fish might include Porthilly oysters with 'kimchi ice' or spicy monkfish with mussels and chrysanthemum leaves. But there's one dish that has captured everyone's imagination – tongdak (crisp-skinned wood-roasted chicken stuffed with sticky rice and served with tangy pickled mooli and dipping sauces).

As for dessert, variously flavoured Jersey milk soft-serve vie with a light matcha and chestnut tiramisu. Korean beer, exotic cocktails and soju (Korea's classic fermented spirit) are available alongside a brief list of around a dozen wines that will take you to places you wouldn’t expect to visit in a Korean restaurant.

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. 

*The Cathedral Square premises closed at the end of 2025, but the restaurant will be relaunching at Arthouse Glasgow in April 2026.*

Celentano’s is inspired but not constrained by Italian cooking and chef-owner Dean Parker is something of a food alchemist. He experiments with ingredients and preservation techniques while fusing different culinary influences into his own individualistic style. Don't be surprised to see kombucha and kimchi keeping company with classic coppa and carpaccio. Celebrating small, sustainable producers and with zero-waste values, the menu balances rustic authenticity, technical precision and an element of surprise. Standout snacks include the fried porcini lasagne and the rare-breed home-cured charcuterie. Follow that, perhaps, with an almost Venetian linguine, traditional surf clams embellished with cod cheek and kombu butter. The restaurant's ethos manifests itself in Loch Etive trout tail (perfectly baked on the bone with a simple whey butter) or a caressingly tender lower-carcass cut of local Dexter beef. To finish, an affogato gets the full 'comfort food' makeover with malted barley and chocolate crumb. The flexible format allows a mix-and-match approach, though careless choices might result in feeling either underwhelmed or over-faced. The multi-level, open-plan dining room sits within a quirky turreted building (formerly the Cathedral House hotel) and has a bustling but informal feel. A heated garden terrace overlooking an atmospheric necropolis might be the perfect spot for enjoying homemade vermouth or coffee liqueur in a signature negroni or espresso Martini.

Peru comes to Brum in the shape of Chakana, the first solo venture from chef Robert Ortiz (ex-Lima in London). Located in the city’s Moseley district and housed in a former Lloyd’s bank (the safe is now a private dining room), this neighbourhood restaurant is an airy, plain and comfortable space with stripped wood floors and thick, rustic-looking wood tables. Food-wise, the ‘ambitiously sized’ carte delivers ‘creative and exciting’ dishes such as braised squid with Andean potato stew, crispy artichoke, seaweed and anchovies, or duck escabeche with plum and beetroot sauce and vegetable saltadito. Starters are mostly riffs on marinated fish, perhaps a visually arresting, incredibly fresh scallop tiradito – a citrusy, bright-red tiger’s milk sauce of hibiscus and rocoto peppers cut with another vividly yellow tiger’s milk, all squiggled around slices of incredibly creamy shellfish. Others have commented on the tasting menu, with highlights ranging from ‘excellent’ tuna quinoa nigiri (a take on sushi involving potato rather than rice) and sea bass ceviche with beautiful coloured chillies, different types and textures of corn and a sweet potato purée to superb 24-hour confit suckling pig with crispy crackling, plantain, charapita chillies and 100% Amazonian chocolate. Chakana may be Peruvian, but it also serves up a very decent Sunday roast combining the best of native produce with British lunching traditions. To drink, a mix of South American and European wines starts at £24; otherwise, the list is very strong on pisco-based cocktails.

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

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

At the hip end of North Street, this cool but relaxed small-plates diner has created something of a tidal wave of enthusiasm since opening in October 2022. It feels like a breath of fresh air, with a spare, white interior and large plate glass windows that flood the space with light. You can book a table or simply drop in and bag one of the countertop stools if you fancy a quick plate of something delicious – perhaps a fennel salami croquette or a scallop served on the shell in a pool of miso and caper butter, with its crispy deep-fried roe balanced on the side. Chef-patron Mark Chapman honed his small-plate chops at tapas joints Bravas and Gambas in the city. Now he and partner Karen have struck out on their own, he is able to blend his expertise with some fine-dining flourishes – witness a simple salad of chicory, fennel, blood orange and almond, which appears on the plate like a beautiful tangle of blush-hued octopus tentacles. It's also worth tucking into heartier dishes such as slow-cooked pork cheeks, each one nestled in a leaf of treviso and topped with shards of pickled fennel. Or try a plate of handmade tagliatelle bathed in a minerally, deep-green cavolo nero sauce enriched with confit egg yolk and ricotta salata – plus a spicy kick from lima chilli. Your commitment to sharing may be tested by desserts such as orange, nutmeg and pistachio tiramisu or dark chocolate and salted caramel tart with crème fraîche and almonds. Like the menu, the drinks list is big on sustainability and draws heavily on local producers: think Psychopomp gin, Iford cider and beers from the Wiper & True craft brewery in Bristol. Almost half the mainly European wine list is available by the glass.

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

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

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

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

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

The atmosphere is casual at this modern, lively restaurant and bar with its polished concrete floor, exposed steel girders and natural timber tables. Popular with young professionals from the area’s hi-tech Silicon Roundabout hub, a meal here is a joyful, head-spinning whirl around the culinary globe. Part of Richard Corrigan’s group of restaurants (Corrigan’s, Bentley’s), Daffodil Muliigan's menu arguably comes closest to representing the freewheeling, eclectic style that helped the chef make his name back in the 1990s. Tuck into the deliciously charred ember-baked bread (a large charcoal grill and wood-fired oven dominate the open kitchen) or the chef's famous soda bread with buttermilk and butter while you choose between more than 30 options on the regularly changing menu. Look out for the signatures: Hereford beef tartare with oyster cream; pig's cheek skewers with tamarind and brown crab chip-shop sauce, and the addictive salt-chilli fried chicken. But there is much else to tempt. A full-flavoured, richly satisfying twice-baked crab and Parmesan soufflé accompanied by a delicately smoky bisque hollandaise perhaps, or a generously proportioned and hugely enjoyable lamb dish – cutlet, loin and slow-cooked belly – served with caponata, black olive crumb and ricotta. For dessert, traditionalists should stick with the classic chocolate fondant with caramel and sea salt; alternatives such as Jerusalem artichoke with chocolate and coffee, or ‘tea and cereal’ (featuring a heavily smoked prune purée with tea-marinated prunes, hay-infused ice cream and puffed rice) may prove a bridge too far. Lunchtime deals are a bargain, service is friendly, efficient and attentive, and the fairly short wine list opens at £30. If the convivial atmosphere gets you in the party mood, head to the atmospheric Gibney’s basement bar for an excellent pint of Irish stout to go with a programme of live music, comedy and sports broadcasts.

‘We have been regular customers for a while, and it seems to be getting better each time,’ noted a reader who plunged into the ‘exceptional’ seven-course tasting menu at this grown-up metropolitan brasserie close to Newcastle’s Quayside. The gastronomic star turn on that occasion was a dish of crispy oyster with apple and dill purée (served with a beetroot ‘jammy dodger’), but bigger plates were also perfectly executed (think lightly roasted halibut teamed up with fried chicken and mushroom ketchup). Others have also lapped up equally enjoyable, ‘thoughtfully decorated’ dishes from the more modest set menu – perhaps rare-breed pork with carrots, carrot-top pesto and fried sourdough crumb followed by dark chocolate and orange pavé with chocolate aero and orange sorbet. Named after the two Victorian architects who designed the building, this is a spacious, good-looking venue with some of its original rough brick walls intact, plus white tiling, low-hanging lights and partitioned banquette seating. Service gets a resounding thumbs-up (‘knowledgeable, friendly and the right sort of attentive’), and the carefully chosen, global wine list promises sound drinking from £24. ‘Go there – you won't be disappointed.’

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

‘The equivalent of being wrapped in a big hug,’ writes an ardent fan, adding that 'we always walk in feeling happy, and come out feeling even happier!’ This warm-hearted spot has been flying the flag for ‘delicious feel-good’ bistro food since Dan Fancett opened the place in 2021, and it scores in departments: the menu is stuffed with extremely well-balanced and superbly executed dishes, while the superb front of house team exude good cheer and do a consistently great job.

A set menu is tweaked daily and served in its simplest form at lunch (two choices per course), with a few more options for dinner. It fits the bistro vibe, though the repertoire strays deliciously beyond predictability – from a bowl of local asparagus soup with smoked chalk stream trout to hand-rolled cavatelli with Parmesan emulsion, spring vegetables and basil pistou. In the evening, the kitchen ups its ambition a notch or two, so you might find ceviche of sea bream with chilli and blood orange followed by calf’s liver with pancetta or a thoroughly Gallic combo of French guinea fowl breast with young leeks, white asparagus (French, of course) and a morel/vin jaune sauce. Finish perhaps with dark chocolate and hazelnut tart with pistachio ice cream – we’re in bistro territory, remember – or a sublime panna cotta with ginger and rhubarb.

Restaurant manager Theo Armyras is an engaging enthusiast of all things drinkable and will steer you towards such delicious offerings as a Spanish rosado from Rioja’s family-owned Bodegas Perica (at £11.50 a glass). Selections by the 500ml carafe keep proceedings true to bistro-dom, although there's always plenty to explore – from minerally Chablis Premier Cru, Thomas Labille ‘Montmains’ 2020 to big hitters from Bordeaux and the Rhône Valley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Originally conceived by the owners of the Clove Club, this ‘Britalian’ restaurant is almost as well-known for its bar as its restaurant –so it was with some reluctance that we bypassed the Negroni-based fun in favour of the dining room. Until we clapped eyes on the space itself, that is: a stunning covered garden worthy of a Roman palazzo. Seating is divided between an attractive cosmopolitan room and a terrace complete with a fireplace, cobbles and foliage (you can specify where you sit when you reserve). For the Luca-on-a-budget experience, try the bar, where lunch is currently £32 for two courses. Otherwise, those with cash to splash can knock themselves out with four courses, Italian-style, and a bottle or two from the impressive Italian list – specialist subject Barolo (sub-£50 bottles are few). Vitello tonnato may now be ubiquitous in London but we’ll never tire of it when it's as satisfying as this. The veal is more well done than is fashionable – a good thing – but is tender and flavoursome beneath a generous spoon of tonnato mayonnaise and a frisky celery, artichoke and lemon salad. Terrific stuff. Fresh pasta is a standout: mezzi paccheri with a pork sausage ragù gains depth from anchovy and freshness from mint, while green and yellow variegated ribbons of tagliatelle with rabbit, lardo and green olives are comforting and luxurious in equal measure. Secondi at inspection include Hebridean lamb with caponata, Hereford beef fillet and short rib, and a dish of John Dory with mussels, mousserons, Jersey Royals and a frothy lemon verbena sauce. Tiramisu, like your nonna might make, is a bravely unfancy finish; vanilla panna cotta with Yorkshire rhubarb is a nicely executed pairing, if lacking the ‘Luca’ signature that characterises the restaurant's best dishes. Overall, a confident operation. Credit, in particular, for setting a tone as conducive to business as it is to pleasure.

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’.

Enveloped in the restaurant quarter of Baldwin Street, a few metres from one of the river crossings, Marmo has been making waves with cooking that takes Italy as its base, but glides into effortless orbit from there. Shared tables and window perches are the drill, and the menu is a single-section document that begins with appetisers and progresses to mains without the joins showing. To start, we were wildly enthused by a single fried gnocco filled with cheese and topped with a melting diaphanous film of lardo – a salty, fatty treat.

Good sourcing of local raw materials is the foundation stone, producing dishes that major on flavour impact rather than twee presentation. A heap of roasted artichoke, radicchio and clementine looked a bit of a jumble, but at the bottom was a slick of delightful hazelnut butter that unified the lot. Meat delivered superlative, properly hung venison haunch in a light stock with celeriac purée and pickled quince in a harmonious support act, while the must-have dessert is a rectangular brick of milky chocolate mousse topped with just-set, cocoa-powdered Chantilly.

Wines by the glass prompt the diner to try out some interesting combinations. Jean-Philippe Fichet's Bourgogne Aligoté made short work of the theoretically tricky artichoke, while the half-fermented fizzing Garnacha at which we baulked initially had its buff tannic muscle flexed by the venison. The full bottle list is impressive, though prices may sit a little uneasily with the hearty informality of the place. On Friday and Saturday evenings, Marmo's new apero bar is open for nibbles and pre-/post-prandial libations.

When Sam and Samantha Clark opened Moro in 1997, it was an instant hit, seducing Londoners with its effervescent vibe and earthy Moorish cuisine. More than 25 years later, its pulling power and pizzazz are undiminished, although this pioneering 90s game-changer is now considered a mainstream classic. Moro has always put on a high-decibel show, whether you're people-watching from one of the pavement tables or soaking up the chatter and clatter of the dining room with its noisy open kitchen, zinc-topped bar and booming acoustics. The trade-off, of course, is the food. Heady spicing and sultry aromatic flavours weave their spell across a procession of seasonal ingredients-driven dishes. Wood-roasting and chargrilling are the star turns – from roast pork belly accompanied by peas, potatoes and anise with churrasco sauce to grilled sea bass with courgette salad (two ways), mint and chilli. Starters of pan-fried sweetbreads with preserved lemon and asparagus have plenty of oomph, while meat-free options might run to fresh morels with cherry tomatoes, white beans and sweet herbs. To conclude, few can resist the ever-present yoghurt cake with pistachios and pomegranate, but don’t discount the equally sought-after Malaga ice cream – or even a simple bowl of cherries in season. The fascinating all-Iberian wine list is stuffed with regional delights from £32.

*Nest is closing at the end of March, prior to relaunching as Tavern (a casual bistro concept) on 28 April 2026.*

True to its name, Nest takes the form of an intimate restaurant nestled amid the hubbub of Old Street: two dozen seats are set around a horseshoe-shaped dining room, stylishly decked out with dusky green walls, ceramic tiled floors, stacked jars and other miscellany. Seasonality is a priority in a broader sense: the restaurant switches between phases roughly every three months – ‘River & Valley’ and ‘Highlands’ were in the pipeline, but on our visit the kitchen had turned all its focus, like the swing of a lighthouse beam, to ‘Sea & Coastline’.

A dozen or so saltwater-themed dishes showed a kitchen capable of playfulness and precise cooking. A rich shot of sea broth was a prelude to monkfish croquette with wild garlic mayo – though the star dish followed soon after: moreish slivers of grey mullet crudo, with sansho peppercorn and notes of sweetness from figs tucked into the mix. Contrasts are presented capably and creatively: in one dish, the smokiness of barbecued kale was offset by creamy St Austell mussels; in another, the delicate flakiness of poached cod was in harmony with the sharpness of yuzu kosho.

Full marks go to the soda bread – served with a dollop of neon-green cultured butter – and a dessert of custard tart with preserved elderflower ice cream that was conspicuously not sea-inspired. The expansive 11-course tasting menu at £90 can contract to seven courses for midweek dinners and lunches for £70 – there’s also the ‘Nest Cellar’, a bar for walk-in drinks when tables are available.

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.

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

Intimate and informal, with small, closely packed, square wooden tables ranged along either side of the dining room, this cool, modern Italian offers a short, daily changing menu of fresh stuffed pasta dressed in moreish sauces. The chefs in the open kitchen conjure magic from simple ingredients, say the ox cheek ragù that's used to fill casoncelli parcels (served on a bed of celeriac purée, garnished with bresaola and Parmesan). Antipasti includes fantastic sourdough focaccia and a salad of Italian tomatoes, ricotta, balsamic vinegar and deeply flavoured grass-green virgin olive oil. Dessert might be a perfectly wobbly panna cotta of pistachio and more of that wonderful olive oil; otherwise, opt for a generous slab of Italian cheese with homemade flatbread and mustard fruits. Though not quite as popular as big brother Pasta Loco, booking is advisable, especially if you want to take advantage of the extraordinarily good-value fixed-price lunch. The dozen or so reds and whites on the carefully chosen wine list showcase Italian vintages, although France, the New World and even Essex get a brief look in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

A well-respected aristocrat on Leith’s regenerated waterfront since 2001, Martin Wishart’s flagship has weathered the storms of fortune and continues to please locals and visitors alike. It helps that the ‘lovely’ dining room is a gently civilised, reassuring space with light wood panels, black leather chairs, discreet lighting and immaculately laid tables.

Wishart has refined his vision of modern French cuisine over the years, although his loyalty to Scottish seasonal produce remains as strong as ever. Dornoch lamb is roasted and served with goat’s cheese gnocchi and baby gem, while mallard from the Borders could arrive with creamed cabbage, braised salsify, pomme florentine and Armagnac jus. Seafood from Scottish waters is a perennial winner: a ‘genuinely inspired’ dish of Gigha halibut paired with kohlrabi rémoulade, compressed cucumber and a luxe caviar sauce was the highlight for one diner, but the haul could also include sea bream (rendered as a ceviche), John Dory or cod (steamed and served with pomme parisienne, baby leeks and hollandaise sauce). This is well-rounded, assured contemporary cooking without pyrotechnics or showboating.

The kitchen also shows its class when it comes to dessert – a Valrhona chocolate fondant needs nothing more than a black cherry sorbet and some crème fraîche, while a composition of honey mousse with lavender and apricot curd strikes a more modern note. If there is a bugbear, it has to do with the service which readers report lacks its usual panache and courtesy. Thankfully, all is well in the drinks department: a tip-top wine list takes oenophiles on a world tour, pitching rare treats from lesser-known countries alongside French regional classics; half bottles are in good supply, as are superior selections by the glass.

Opened on Bristol’s waterfront Cargo development in 2017, this 'restaurant in a shipping container' may be starting to show its age (in good weather, the terrace is the place to be), but Root still delivers fresh creativity on the plate. Part of Josh Eggleton’s Pony Restaurant Group, it offers an ever-changing seasonal menu of vegetable-led small plates – although there are always a couple of fish and meat choices, say butterflied red mullet with Isle of Wight tomatoes and saffron aïoli. 

A recent meal kicked off with a simple plate of crudités, elevated by the presence of sparklingly fresh raw vegetables, punchy pickles and a delicious cashew and seaweed dip. Light and fluffy gnudi-style ewe’s curd dumplings are a Root signature dish and rightly so; the accompanying braised greens had great flavour, accentuated by tart and fragrant preserved lemon. By contrast, Wye Valley asparagus with peas, broad beans, radish and cider shallots was spring personified in one fresh and invigorating assemblage. A beautifully made honey and brown butter tart brought the meal to a satisfactorily sweet conclusion. The wine list offers 25 choices, with eight available by the carafe. The emphasis is on natural viticulture, but with enough organic and biodynamic options to please the wider wine-drinking audience. 

With founding chef Rob Howell having relocated to the sister Root in Wells, we couldn’t completely dismiss the nagging feeling that the Bristol original is now something of a poor relation. In addition to the interior’s wear and tear, service was somewhat inattentive and there was a general lack of excitement about the experience. Nevertheless, there is still plenty to love about Root, and it remains a Bristol stalwart.

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

The inconspicuous entrance – look for the pillarbox-red door – doesn’t give much away. Take the lift to the 4th floor and pull back the velvet curtain for the grand reveal. The huge arched windows of Palladian-style Sessions House (once the country’s largest courthouse) flood the former judges’ dining room with light by day, and reflect the flickering candlelight by night. It feels like stepping onto a period film set, the distressed paintwork and salvaged furnishings evoking a faded louche decadence.

Former sous-chef Abigail Hill is now running the kitchen, and her seasonally inspired food captures and reflects the artful aesthetic. The single-sheet roster of Med-accented dishes runs from the diminutive to the substantial and can be enjoyed in a three-course format – though each dish is delivered to your table when ready, so it’s arguably better to approach the menu as a pick-‘n’-mix.

Hill composes the food as much for the eye as for the palate, and any sense of pared-back austerity is banished by seductive richness and decadence: thick, buttery slices of lightly cured trout, properly seasoned and accompanied by a tart cream, heady with perfumed bergamot, for example, or rare onglet with a cloud of finely grated Spenwood cheese, which further heightens the almost gamey umami of the beef. This is well-judged and skilful stuff. Elsewhere, roasted muscat grapes bring bursts of sweet acidity to a winter creation of rich and astutely cooked pork with collard greens.

Vegetable dishes are given minor billing, though offerings such as shards of raw Badger Flame beetroot with walnuts and Jerusalem artichoke purée or a standout combo of purple sprouting broccoli with pistachio crumb and ewe’s yoghurt go a long way to absolving this. To finish, chocolate torte is a worthy Sessions classic. The wine list, supplied by Keeling Andrew (importers, distributors, consultants and founders of Noble Rot), is well-suited to the grown-up Sessions crowd (over-18s only): expect a stylish assortment of crowd-pleasers and hip appellations, plus an impressive by-the-glass range and plenty for those who want to delve a little deeper.

Established in 2016 and found with some difficulty (signage is minimal) on a backstreet off Brick Lane, Smokestak is a project from chef David Carter, co-founder with Chris Leach of nearby Manteca. Its specialist subject is barbecue, as signposted by the monster smoker in the open kitchen, by the blackened walls, and by the weathered wooden furniture that almost looks like it’s had a few hours over the coals. It’s very cool, and not very comfortable. The signature pre-order brisket comes whole for the table (£175 at the time of writing), served in thick slices on a tin plate, or coiled inside a glossy bun with pickled red chillies – a reminder of the concept’s street-food origins. Hours of slow-cooking also work their magic on native-breed pork, pulled with green slaw in a bun. Two sharing menus cover all the classics. There are meat-free options too, such as watermelon salad with feta, cucumber and mint or coal-roasted aubergine with red miso and cashews, but you would hardly describe Smokestak as a place of pilgrimage for vegetarians. To drink, there's plenty of good stuff, including rum punch, blackcurrant Negronis, a few beers and a couple of dozen European wines of a natural bent.

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

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

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

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

It’s been nigh on a decade since Som Saa upgraded from a railway arch pop-up to its current premises in a former fabric warehouse on Commercial Street. Nonetheless, its popularity among Shoreditch diners is undiminished. Stepping inside, all is noise and energy: clattering chairs on bare floorboards, voices echoing around bare brick arches and a kitchen serving up vibrant, vigorously spiced Thai food.

Just as the post-industrial interiors are generally devoid of old Siam clichés (save for the odd rattan light and tropical foliage), the menu swerves the usual pad thais to present authentic regional flavours, with small plates shared between diners. Many go for the Tem Toh set, opening with tender hake and wild ginger fishcakes, before gaeng ped gung king orn – a fiery and flavoursome red curry of minced prawns, young ginger and pea aubergine (‘very rich, smokey and moreish’).

Some travel here specifically for the nahm dtok pla thort (whole sea bass with spices from the eastern Isaan region that gets picked to the bones); others for lesser known dishes such as gaeng om gai – a lighter curry of chicken, young watermelon and turmeric. Either way, everyone appreciates the sublimely sticky rice that arrives in its own little basket.

Finish off with kluey yaang – salted palm-sugar ice cream with turmeric-grilled banana. Our recent inspection revealed inconsistencies in the service, but there were no such grumbles for the well-rounded drinks menu, where a repertoire of imaginative Thai-themed cocktails starts at £9, and wines are neatly tailored to the spicy food. 

You wouldn’t guess it from the name, but Sonny Stores is a charming neighbourhood Italian, set in a former corner shop amid the terraces and bay windows of Southville. Out front, a blackboard advertises takeaway pizzas, but inside you’ll find no trace of Leaning Tower or Ponte Vecchio chintz: the interiors are bright and contemporary, with Fellini-esque terrazzo flooring, a smattering of potted plants and a sunflower painted over the door – indeed, it ‘feels like you’re in someone’s living room.’

The name ‘Sonny’ is borrowed from the son of owners Mary Glynn and chef Pegs Quinn (ex-River Café) – it's clear the restaurant they run together is also a labour of love. Antipasti are thoughtfully assembled – check out the excellent fat Nocellara olives and the much-loved (though admittedly not Italian) Cantabrian anchovies (chunky specimens doused in salt and oil). Starters might take inspiration from across the peninsula – there are northern Italian notes in a dish of crispy beef tongue with salsa rossa, though deep-fried whole quail with hot honey and crème fraîche on the side is more of a departure.

Pasta dishes might include looping pappardelle with rich chicken-liver ragù, parsley and Parmesan – though our standout dish was a main course of poached cod in a rich broth of clams ‘acqua pazza’, resting on bruschetta that absorbed the flavours. Some might round off with pear ice cream, brown sugar and walnut; others go for a generous slab of tiramisu. Also look out for the good-value weekday set lunches.

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

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

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

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

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

Three decades on, St John appears to have changed not one jot. Still the same whitewashed walls, the same squat wine glasses, the same commitment to ‘nose-to-tail’ cookery. When we visited, there was a dish on the daily menu from the restaurant's second cookbook (published 2007): called simply ‘kohlrabi’, it is simply kohlrabi – albeit mandolined and lavished with olive oil, lemon, capers and chervil. An excellent use of a maligned vegetable, but the £11 price tag speaks of 2025.

There's no doubt that eating at St John can sometimes test your faith. Our beef broth was straightforward enough, but the vegetables looked like they had been chopped by someone’s granny in a rush to get tea on the table (but, oh boy, can granny cook). Likewise, a serving of sea bass was no looker: battle-scarred from a hot pan, it came with slow-cooked fennel in a state of near-collapse and a Pernod-splashed liquor into which some anchovies had long since disappeared. A food stylist would shudder but, again, such flavour!

While some dishes such as the signature bone marrow and parsley salad still resemble exhibits in an edgy east London gallery, others look like they’ve emerged from the kitchen of an old Parisian bistro, where the chef no longer gives a fig about wooing Le Figaro. If they have a pair of tweezers in the cupboard, they’ll be for plucking bristles from pig's trotters, not garnishing quail's eggs with micro herbs. However, a serving of wild boar terrine (with cornichons and excellent sourdough) and a plate of mallard (with parsnips and pickled walnut) both successfully combine sharp looks and keen flavour.

‘Are paper tablecloths and one wine glass for all wines and water taking lack of pretension too far?’ asks one fan. We might say the same about a dessert plate that arrives with a chip in it the size of your thumbnail. That said, puddings are terrific and there are no fewer than 10 to choose from: our lemon pie had sticky, jammy citrus sandwiched between crisp, sugared pie crust, while chocolate mousse was made from first-rate confectionery. The wine list is the type you'd find in a Parisian bistro, with a tip-top house pour, St John Rouge, ushering in a glorious selection from the French regions.

Almost two decades old, this offshoot of the original St John (housed in a former bank opposite Old Spitalfields Market) still retains something of that functional look – although the interior (close-packed wooden tables, whitewashed walls) now comes with bottles of wine, loaves of bread and blackboards by way of decoration. It’s the clatter and chatter of diners that lends the room its warm ambience. Menus, updated daily, speak to Britain’s historic foodways but feel fresh and modern. What you read is what you get: ‘Eccles cake and Lancashire cheese’; ‘smoked haddock, saffron and mash’; ‘boiled ham, carrots, and parsley sauce’; even ‘mushy courgettes’. It adheres to the nose-to-tail gospel of St John’s Fergus Henderson, so also expect heart, liver, kidneys and tails, alongside seasonal salads (cauliflower, leek and chickpeas) and vegetable dishes such as bobby beans with roast shallots and mustard. It’s rather fun to become reacquainted with specialities last seen in the Winnie the Pooh cookbook: jelly, prunes, sprats and anchovy toast, for example. Bread and wine, as the name suggests, are a focus. You can buy both to go, or you can sit down with a bottle from the all-French list which includes St John’s own-label Crémant de Limoux, Mâcon-Villages and claret.

It's hard to spot the location and the muted signage of this small restaurant in a parade of shops on the edge of a fast-moving, heavy-duty arterial dual carriageway. Note that parking is limited, but a nearby Metro stop encourages alternative access. A few modern posters and prints, a large mirror, some pot plants and a lively buzz give Stretford Canteen a homely if rather utilitarian feel. A blackboard lists daily specials but the actual menu gives no indication of the size of the plates – price should be your guide. For one regular, it's a 'shining light in a small suburb that needs and deserves a reliable, high-quality restaurant.'

While sharing is the name of the game, the overall style is traditional French bistro. They’ve rightly kept popular dishes such as deep-fried panisse fingers with tarragon mayo, and a concern for provenance shows in ingredients such as Isle of Wight tomatoes or Curing Rebels saucisson. Otherwise, the main menu roams from charred baby gem with beurre noisette and capers or oyster mushrooms with vermouth, tarragon and potato pavé to pork shoulder with fennel choucroute and mustard or pan-fried trout with chickpeas and rouille. There's also a generous serving of ex-dairy beef sirloin au poivre, cooked medium-rare, with plenty of savoury depth and texture.

Those wanting something quick during the day can also drop by for buckwheat galettes, French toast, croques and bowls of French onion soup. A short wine list shines the spotlight on French regional producers, with occasional forays into Germany and Spain. And, finally, praise is due to the little publicised fact they have fed a local homeless man for years – happily now off the streets. 

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

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

There's a fascinating sense of disjunction between the formal stepped and pillared entrance to what was the former Shoreditch Town Hall and the unbuttoned ambience within, where bare wood floors and an open kitchen faced in blue tiles are very much in the contemporary mode. Isaac McHale's tasting menus (long or short) combine the popular touch with forthright innovative confidence – witness the explosive bursts of flavour in an opener of barbecued aubergine topped with white crabmeat, its dressings of brown crab bisque and dill oil further deepened with notes of ginger and cinnamon. A thoroughgoing effort to be resourceful in the use of ingredients means that prawn heads turn up alongside their tartare, while the bones of sardines go into a broth boosted à l'ancienne with cream and whisky to go with sardine sashimi, the latter delicately glazed in soy and chrysanthemum, but also powered up with mustard and Worcestershire sauce. Sea bass grilled over hazel wood comes to the table on its still-smoking skillet for a bit of performance art, while a main course of Middle White pork, ordinary enough in itself, embraces a mid-course supplementary serving of pulled meat and crackling in a taco. Temperature variations are wittily explored in a granita of grilled habanero chilli with ewe's milk yoghurt and plum sorbet. Dessert could be apricot-kernel mousse topped with a sugary tuile dusted with blitzed popcorn and puffed amaranth, underneath it all a slim disc of Victoria sponge, soaked in apricot syrup, bringing a twang of nostalgia to the finale. Low-intervention sips, skin-contact trendies and biodynamics make their voguish appearances on what is otherwise a fairly strait-laced wine list. Cocktails are absolutely worth a punt.

It’s all change at the historic Crown, with the arrival of restless, talented chef-patron Simon Bonwick, who has installed dozens of his own artworks and now offers various menus with the accent on old-style French cooking. Thankfully, the cosy 16th-century pub remains largely unchanged: locals still come to sup pints of ale among its ancient beams, low ceilings and wood-burning stoves, while checked tablecloths and a soundtrack of soulful jazz ballads add to the mellow bistro vibe in the dining area; outside is a large beer garden.

A blackboard bar menu is served through the week, with poshed-up pub nosh such as pie and mash or exquisitely presented, flavourful rabbit rillettes with pickles, while the first-rate bread is baked fresh for every sitting. From Wednesday onwards, a slightly more ambitious choice comes into play, perhaps starting with sharp pickled herring on a disc of potato salad, followed by poached chicken with mash or a lemon sole ('market fish, like when in Paris,’ says the menu). At our meal, both main courses had highs and lows: excellent braised carrots with the chicken, but the unremarkable chunks of skinless breast arrived in a tangy, vinegary sauce lacking the promised notes of tarragon, while the fillets of pan-fried fish came folded over and short on succulence, although the buttery meunière sauce was textbook.

For afters, there were no caveats about a properly weighty syrup sponge and a lemon curd crumble (crisp crumble, thick curd). Knowledgeable, engaging young staff add to the Crown's polish, likewise a lengthy wine list where even the house options have character. To sample Bonwick’s undoubted culinary flair to the full, book a seat at the ‘Troublesome Lodger’ Snug (Thursday to Saturday), where a six-course tasting menu encompasses his idiosyncratic take on French cuisine and traditional British specials.

From the outside, Forest Side imposes, stamping no-nonsense Victorian authority onto a steep fellside near Grasmere. Step inside, however, and you’re fast-forwarded to the present day. There are respectful memories of history in the shape of lofty ceilings, preserved architectural details and tweed-waistcoated waiters, but the setting is fresh and contemporary. Rough-hewn tables are simply decorated, so too the white walls and vast windows. Seats are comfortable, and floors classily bare, but chintz-free style comes at the expense of sound-absorbing softness so it can be a little noisy. Perhaps that is all the better to focus on Paul Leonard’s fine cooking, which delivers an experience that for one recent diner was ‘breathtaking’, for another ‘truly A-class’. Portions are restrained, presentation is precise, the value for money of a four-course lunch (plus extras) undeniable. Warm brioche, thyme-flecked and oomphed with a Marmite glaze, is irresistible, while the standout of the three snacks is toasted brioche with truffled cream cheese and smoked eel. Vigour continues. Whipped raw-milk Cumbrian goat's cheese – Ingot, from Holker Farm Dairy– comes with confit and crisp Jerusalem artichoke, fresh apple and toasted yeast crumb; it’s followed by a savoury little rockpool of lightly aerated buttermilk/mussel sauce from which peep mussels, ribbons of pickled cuttlefish and smoked roe. This being the game season, a small but tenderly roasted breast of local partridge makes a distinguished main course. Its juices are the base for a glorious sauce, its leg is a mini-meatball, and the flavours are amplified by hen of the woods flecked with crisp onions, as well as the belting umami of cep purée. A pretty dessert is all about the cherry – puréed, frozen into a sorbet, set into a glistening crimson gel, its sweetness balanced by a mild cheese panna cotta and salted granola. A sugar-doused doughnut – cherry-filled, of course – provides the playful accompaniment. The forward-thinking wine list champions natural and biodynamic bottles from less familiar vineyards, so the sommelier's excellent advice might steer you towards a rounded but fresh Grüner Veltliner from Austrian makers Martin and Anna Arndorfer, or the earthy welly of a Thracian Mavrud that works a treat with the partridge. Both are offered by the glass on a line-up that packs interest into 125ml pours from £9.

*Gannet will be closing its doors for good at the end of service on 31 December 2025*

Opened by three friends following a research trip to the Outer Hebrides, where they were greatly taken by the titular seafaring bird, its diving prowess and its famously voracious appetite, Gannet fits snugly into Finnieston's increasingly on-trend gastronomic scene. It also makes all the right noises with its field-to-fork ethos, commitment to zero waste and support of regional Scottish producers. The dining room is suitably modish and informal (shiny metal ducts, rugged stonework, bare light bulbs), although the look has been softened with handmade panelling and round wooden tables. Food-wise, the move to a multi-course ‘tasting menu’ format suggests that chef Peter McKenna and his team have serious culinary ambitions. Sustainably sourced fish, meat from heritage breeds and wild Scottish game all receive due care and attention on the seasonally rich menu: Hebridean squid is joined by celeriac and sparassis (cauliflower fungus); red deer keeps company with spruce, egg yolk and smoked crumb. A quartet of nibbles might bring a smoked and pickled mussel taco, while sweet/citrussy/earthy notes pour forth from a dessert of buckwheat, caramelised white chocolate and blood orange. At lunchtime, you can have two or three courses from a pared-back version of the full menu. Appropriate wine pairings are cherry-picked from a modern global list, while mixologists shake fragrant, floral cocktails at the bar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A family-run pub well versed in the arts of hospitality is exactly what you would hope to find in a village like Upton Grey, and in the Hoddington Arms, locals have undoubtedly lucked out. A varied mix of indoor spaces framed by wooden rafters and exposed brickwork, together with tables in the garden, make for a properly bucolic air – and Chris Barnes’ kitchen does the rest.

A certain quirkiness embraces slate plates and Kilner jars, with little metal buckets for the chips, but the heart of the operation lies in an appealing range of classic and modern-classic dishes. Smoked duck breast with pickled mooli and five-spice plum chutney or, perhaps, portobello mushroom arancini with truffled garlic mayonnaise are promising ways to start, before sea bass and citrus-braised fennel in tomato and red pepper sauce makes an appearance.

There are readers for whom the Sunday roasts and the short-rib burgers with Cheddar, mustard mayo and onion rings are perfection personified, although these are run close by the sticky toffee pudding, jazzed up with medjool dates and served with clotted-cream ice cream. For something lighter in summer, look to vanilla panna cotta with strawberries poached in English sparkling wine. British cheeses are well-kept, and the ‘Hodd’ (as it's affectionately known) offers quality beers from Hampshire brewers, as well as a good spread of wines.

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

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

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

With its simple whitewashed interiors, this unpretentious roadside hostelry is a relief from the many designer-led pubs hereabouts. There are no airs or graces, just a warm welcome from the staff and all the ingredients for a please-all boozer: quizzes, music, a dog- and child-friendly attitude, beers at the bar and decent food (think pizzas, curries, salads and suchlike). Otherwise, look to the specials for generous helpings of local seafood – mussels in winter, crab/lobster in summer. To drink, Brancaster Brewery ales compete with a brief wine list and a mighty rum selection. Jolly by name…

With its rampant popularity all but necessitating a relocation to larger premises, this Leith upstart has matured into its new, grown-up home with grace, becoming an altogether more polished proposition as a restaurant. Carrying over the nautical blues and cool whites of its predecessor, the new room has a bright, Scandinavian quality, with the open kitchen breathing warm light across the restaurant. Getting a table on a Saturday night remains a matter of blind luck, or a wait of two or so months.

The expanded kitchen brigade, operating under co-owner Roberta Hall and head chef Dominic Greechan, delivers a concise, ambitious menu of dishes that are never less than meticulous, and are frequently beautiful. A case in point: a resplendent duck salad starter where a rosy, slightly gamey breast contrasts with the bittersweet crunch of ruddy castelfranco leaves, while a glossy, hearty bundle of accompanying rillettes is tempered by fruity laces of orange.

Mains are similarly praiseworthy. An eclectic two-part lamb dish (fillet and merguez sausage) showcases the delicious potential and variety of their nose-to-tail approach, while a perfectly cooked cod fillet, yielding and succulent with delicately crisp skin and shrimp butter, is very nearly upstaged by a small, flawless bowl of mash, adorned with a crown of brittle, saline seaweed. Desserts might flit between an unusually effervescent rhubarb trifle and the joyous experience of smearing funky, whipped Hebridean Blue cheese across a hot cross bun, while sipping a glass of chewy Portuguese tawny port.

Out front, Shaun McCarron has built on and embellished his experience in fine-dining service. His team is precise and knowledgeable, but as importantly, affable and relaxed, with a sommelier whose confident and well-considered suggestions draw on an exciting, varied and approachable list.

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

The Hillsborough district of Sheffield is home to Matthew Duggan-Jones' homage to his South African heritage, in which the braai barbecue is a long-standing social tradition. Behind its dark-hued, single-fronted facade, there is always the infectious feeling of a party going on at the Orange Bird, with convivial atmosphere to spare and what one reporter calls 'ridiculously good food'. The kitchen's repertoire covers everything from appetising small plates and substantial main dishes to the must-have peppermint crisp tart and miso malva pudding with stout ice cream (a clever Anglo-Afro mash-up). Get the juices flowing with venison boerewors or some pork-neck skewers accompanied by sweet-and-sour cucumber – and don't forget to order the house sweet bread dotted with coriander seeds. To follow, the double-sided Barnsley lamb chop (perhaps with parsley whipped garlic and fig sambal) is reliably sublime, or you might prefer fried baby aubergines in rich Durban curry sauce with the zing of pickled turnip on the side. Accompaniments are equally alluring, from smoked jollof rice to braai courgette chakalaka (a spicy relish). If you thought South African wine was all Pinotage and Chenin, think again. Here are scented Gewürztraminer, meaty Grenache, a rosé from Mourvèdre, and a high-octane red from the port grape, Touriga Nacional – all at eminently fair prices.

Although its name, and that of the village, stems from the roadside tavern that has perched on this site since the 18th century, no current visitor would mistake The Peat Inn for anything other than a carefully fettled culinary destination with rooms. Owned and operated by chef-patron Geoffrey Smeddle and his wife Katherine since 2006, the atmosphere within is warm and refined. Interiors are modern, sharp and luxurious, but pay homage to the history of the building. Exposed, whitewashed beams mirror the crisp linen and contrast with the vivid, vibrant upholstery. Come cold weather, an open fire still roars in the bar. Back in the kitchen, the cooking speaks of precision, skill, and at times, love. An inventive venison tartare impresses early on, cleverly embellishing the musky game with creamy goat’s curd and a sharp, sweet tomato jelly. A complex web of flavours, but beautifully balanced. Considering the location in Fife’s bountiful East Neuk, it's not surprising that local produce is frequently the star, although the menu draws on the strengths of the wider Scottish larder. If you time your visit well, grouse is likely to appear. In this instance, the bird is treated classically – roasted, with the tender, rosy meat of the breast and leg gorged in a dark, unctuous game sauce. Completing the picture are game chips, green beans and bread sauce, plus a frankly obscene fried croûton, slathered with a tarry, luscious liver parfait. Desserts mix outright decadence with meticulous visual finesse. A Greek yoghurt crémeux nestles beneath a delicate honeycombed crisp, bolstering the intense, condensed caramel sweetness of roast apricot, while a dark chocolate délice sings loudest alongside the marmalade and sherry-like notes of its matched vin doux naturel. There is plenty of enthusiasm from readers, although some noticeably erratic execution – particularly in terms of seasoning and the overall balance of flavours – needs addressing. Wines start just north of £30 and scamper all the way up to the high hundreds, with over a dozen offered by the glass. If in doubt, advice is affable and enthusiastic, in line with the always-attentive service.

*Currently up for sale*

Although its name, and that of the village, stems from the roadside tavern that has perched on this site since the 18th century, no current visitor would mistake The Peat Inn for anything other than a carefully fettled culinary destination with rooms. Owned and operated by chef-patron Geoffrey Smeddle and his wife Katherine since 2006, the atmosphere within is warm and refined. Interiors are modern, sharp and luxurious, but pay homage to the history of the building. Exposed, whitewashed beams mirror the crisp linen and contrast with the vivid, vibrant upholstery. Come cold weather, an open fire still roars in the bar. Back in the kitchen, the cooking speaks of precision, skill, and at times, love. An inventive venison tartare impresses early on, cleverly embellishing the musky game with creamy goat’s curd and a sharp, sweet tomato jelly. A complex web of flavours, but beautifully balanced. Considering the location in Fife’s bountiful East Neuk, it's not surprising that local produce is frequently the star, although the menu draws on the strengths of the wider Scottish larder. If you time your visit well, grouse is likely to appear. In this instance, the bird is treated classically – roasted, with the tender, rosy meat of the breast and leg gorged in a dark, unctuous game sauce. Completing the picture are game chips, green beans and bread sauce, plus a frankly obscene fried croûton, slathered with a tarry, luscious liver parfait. Desserts mix outright decadence with meticulous visual finesse. A Greek yoghurt crémeux nestles beneath a delicate honeycombed crisp, bolstering the intense, condensed caramel sweetness of roast apricot, while a dark chocolate délice sings loudest alongside the marmalade and sherry-like notes of its matched vin doux naturel. There is plenty of enthusiasm from readers, although some noticeably erratic execution – particularly in terms of seasoning and the overall balance of flavours – needs addressing. Wines start just north of £30 and scamper all the way up to the high hundreds, with over a dozen offered by the glass. If in doubt, advice is affable and enthusiastic, in line with the always-attentive service.

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

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

It could be just another whitewashed roadside inn, briefly glimpsed along the A149 as you drive past, but the White Horse is something special. Set on the marshes, it provides one of the best views along the coast and manages an impressive balancing act between pub and restaurant. A rustic public bar caters for drinkers who can spill out onto the front courtyard when the sun shines, while the light-filled conservatory dining room and terrace maximise the views – big skies, tidal creeks, little boats.

Here, chef Fran Hartshorne presents a strong 'when in Norfolk' case for choosing the exceptional mussels, half a dozen oysters served classically or tempura, dressed Cromer crab or delicious smoked salmon from the tiny Staithe Smokehouse on the premises. Elsewhere, pan-seared sea trout with leeks, local cockles, clams and brown shrimps, smoked cream and potato is a straightforward pleasure, as is marsh-grazed sirloin with Café de Paris butter and skin-on fries – one of the few meat options. For afters, the signature lemon tart with blueberries, Dann's Farm yoghurt sorbet and poppyseed crumb beckons.

If you want something more casual, head down to Marshside, the pub’s seasonal, alfresco hangout for a cocktail, glass of wine or beer plus a few small sharing plates – a robata-grilled scallop, devilled mussel crumpet or Cheddar doughnuts, say. You might, however, like to keep large plates of grilled lobster and chips or crayfish poutine to yourself. In both dining areas, the well-targeted, international wine list offers plenty by the glass.

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

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

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

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

Opened in 2021, Tropea is a love letter to Italian regional cooking, set within a clean-lined space that has recently extended into the building next door, with more covers and a bar/counter offering drinks as well as the full restaurant menu. The feel is of modern refettorio with a sleek navy-blue frontage and a cool, softly lit interior with hints of bronze and orange tones (there are tables outside, too). Reporters praise the exceptional staff, and the sharing ethos of the menus, which encourages much happy mixing and matching.

The bidding opens with inspired antipasti selections such as sea bream crudo with lightly pickled apple, monk’s beard and olive oil or gnocco fritto (fried dough) with 30-month DOP prosciutto di Parma. Pasta is a sure-fire hit (casarecce with beef-cheek ragù or tagliatelle with sautéed morels, and mushroom duxelles, for example), while the robust approach to principal dishes might embrace poached stone bass in ‘acqua pazza’ with datterini tomatoes and pickled fennel or BBQ lamb rump accompanied by Tropea onions, Jersey Royals and salsa verde. 

Anyone leaving without having bitten into one of the bombolone (filled doughnuts) has missed a trick – they are a textural sensation. Alternatively, a mighty serving of tiramisu or crisp deep-fried cannoli decadently stuffed with cream, salted caramel and chocolate sauce might fit the bill. Not surprisingly, Italy is the reference point for an approachable wine list with plenty by the glass or carafe – also, check out the prestigious ‘cellar list’ of notable regional vintages dating back to 2010.  

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