The 21 Best Wine Bars in the United Kingdom

A wine bar tucked under the railway arches in Bermondsey, where the menu is a chalkboard, reservations don't exist, and the wine comes from a natural-leaning importer operating out of the same warehouse. Around a dozen small plates change daily, running from terrines and seasonal salads to something more substantial, and the idea is to order the lot and share. First-come seating keeps it lively, and nobody here seems to mind waiting.

The bar top is cast from old pavement lights, and the water carafes are repurposed gin bottles, which tells you everything about the aesthetic before you've ordered. Sager and Wilde is a candlelit wine bar on Hackney Road, bare brick and unpretentious, where the list is the whole point. Early evenings, light cuts through the Venetian blinds at a mood-appropriate angle; after that, candles take over and the room does the rest.

A hole-in-the-wall bar and deli tucked into Covent Garden, Champagne et Fromage specializes in grower champagnes, the kind made by the people who grew the grapes rather than the big houses that get all the attention. Around two dozen options pour by the glass alongside a cheese counter, making it equal parts wine bar and very convincing argument for skipping dinner reservations entirely.

Patterned wallpaper, low-slung couches, and a bar running along one wall of a dimly lit basement room: this is a wine bar that takes itself seriously without making you feel underdressed. It shares a pedigree with Paris's Compagnie Des Vins Surnaturels and the Experimental Cocktail Club, which means the list is long and the staff know it cold. Neal's Yard is a strange little pocket of London, and this fits right in.

Fairy lights and a narrow passage off the Royal Mile lead you downstairs into three rooms that feel nothing like the street above: a proper bar, banquette seating, and a back room with an open fireplace and bookshelves that leans hard into gentleman's club territory. The Royal Mile earns its tourist reputation, but this basement cocktail bar is the exception serious drinkers make before moving on to lecture everyone else about avoiding the Royal Mile.

The Campari and Aperol left out on the bar-top are a deliberate tell: this isn't your average Islington local. Hunter S. is a spirits bar with around 150 bottles leaning heavily into Scotch, American, and international whiskies, plus rum, and respectable depth in everything else. The vibe runs closer to a relaxed brasserie than a reverent whisky library, which means you'll end up talking flavour profiles without feeling like you're taking an exam.

A zinc-topped island bar anchors this wine bar on a quiet Marylebone lane, surrounded by old wine packing cases and champagne cellar racks softened by bare Edison bulbs. The list is long without being intimidating, and the staff are polished enough to guide you through it without making you feel like a student. The kind of place where a quick glass reliably becomes two.

The bar has its own street entrance and lift, so you can bypass the handbags and frocks entirely, even when the store itself is closed. It sits alongside Harvey Nichols' food and wine floor, all white slatted ceiling, neon light, and a sharp hit of claret red against stainless steel. It's a cocktail bar that rewards a clear head more than it forgives a fuzzy one, which is either a warning or a recommendation depending on where you're starting from.

Fizz arrives first at Kettner's, a champagne bar in Soho that has been around forever and wears it well. The grade II-listed room has the kind of gilded, slightly threadbare grandeur that makes a glass of bubbles feel like a moral necessity. Pre-theatre drinkers pack in early, but the atmosphere stays looser than you'd expect. Oscar Wilde reportedly used the upstairs rooms for purposes the programme notes left out.

Rough-hewn planks on the walls and upturned casks for seating set the tone at this pared-down wine bar in Jericho, sitting opposite the rather more famous Raoul's. The list is short and deliberate, with everything available by the glass and tasting notes that actually say something useful. Nothing here is trying to impress you, which, in Oxford, is quietly impressive. Local art fills the gaps on the walls that the wood doesn't.

Perrier-Jouët's Belle Epoque anemones climb every surface of this lower-ground-floor champagne bar inside the grand St James's hotel, giving it the look of a drawing room that took a wrong turn somewhere floral. The fizz is the focus, poured in a room that leans heavily into the brand's art nouveau palette. Dukes is famous for its Martinis next door, so the champagne lounge feels like a deliberate counterpoint, softer and more decorative, but no less serious about what's in the glass.

Casks of sherry sit among wine-laden shelves behind a mahogany bar that looks unchanged since Fleet Street still ran on ink and gossip. This old-school wine bar opposite Fetter Lane draws barristers and whatever journalists are left in the neighbourhood, who seem to regard the place as a private club they happen to share with the public. Grab a bottle from the off-licence at the front or settle in the back for table service.

The candlelit basement has been pouring wine since the Victorian era, and the atmosphere has barely moved since, which is either the charm or the problem depending on your relationship with cobwebs. Gordon's is an old-school wine bar tucked under Villiers Street, all low ceilings, wobbly wooden tables, and bottles lining walls that once housed Samuel Pepys. It draws tourists and City regulars alike, and the outdoor terrace fills fast in summer.