The Best Places in the United Kingdom

A Victorian inn sitting at the heart of its own working farm, which means the kitchen doesn't have far to look for ingredients. Expect the kind of pub food that earns its place: day-boat fish, a daily pie, proper Sunday roasts, and steaks from animals that were practically neighbours. The fire-lit lounge and eleven bedrooms make it a sensible base for walking Exmoor without having to think too hard about where to eat afterwards.

A single communal table under a Glasgow railway arch, close enough to the open kitchen that the chef can tell you exactly where dinner came from. Trains rumble overhead while the menu pivots around whatever Scottish produce is worth talking about that week. The room holds a small group, which means the cooking is almost conversational. Seasonal modern Scottish, with a wine flight if you want someone else to do the thinking.

Perched on the cliffside above Housel Bay, this modern tasting menu restaurant names its courses things like "A Parisian Verse" and "As Two Roads Cross," which either charms or baffles depending on your disposition. The cooking is detailed and creative, the wine pairings are fairly priced for this kind of format, and the open kitchen keeps things lively. A window table with those bay views makes the whole cryptic-menu gambit feel like an easy trade.

Nikkei cuisine, the happy accident of Japanese immigration into Peru, is the whole point at this Bayswater restaurant. The omakase menu is the move, running ceviche and tiradito alongside a creative nigiri selection, with a spicy kick threading through dishes that pull in influences from across Asia. Skip the wine list and lean into the sake or the South American cocktails instead, which is not advice you get every day in W2.

A converted barn on a working farm in deepest Cornwall, where the menu changes with whatever the land is producing that week. The dining room is unhurried by design, the kind of place that makes you slow down whether you planned to or not. Modern British cooking with a produce-led ethos, so expect the plate to look as considered as the sourcing. On-site cottages mean you can stay and do the whole thing properly.

A dining room at a Welsh country house hotel where the walls lean into ferns and the tasting menu reads like a nature walk, dish names like "Walled Garden" promising more than they let on. The kitchen pulls from its own gardens and the surrounding Pembrokeshire landscape, and the results arrive with a level of detail the spare menu descriptions do nothing to prepare you for. Two lengths of menu, flawless pacing, and staff who seem to genuinely enjoy the reveal.

An Austrian café and konditorei on Marylebone High Street, Fischer's does old Vienna without the museum-piece stuffiness. Locals fill the room from breakfast onward for eggs and viennoiserie, then afternoon brings sachertorte and the particular kind of calm that comes from a very good slice of cake. Schnitzels anchor the lunch and dinner menu, golden and properly crisp. The team handle a packed room like it's nothing, which is its own kind of art.

The Fischer family has been running this Edwardian manor on formal Derbyshire grounds for two generations now, which earns a certain ease. It's a country house restaurant with elegant dining rooms and the kind of service that irons its napkins. A Kitchen Bench seats you close enough to the kitchen to feel involved. Chatsworth Estate venison shows up during game season and tends to settle the question of what to order.

A self-taught chef runs this snug Modern British restaurant tucked down a cobbled lane near the Shambles, where the blackboard menu shifts constantly and almost nothing goes to waste. The name maps the sourcing: fish from small boats, game from local shoots, and meat raised with some attention to how the animal actually lived. It's the kind of cooking that sounds earnest on paper but tastes like someone means it.

Named after an Agatha Christie novel, and conveniently close to where she actually lived, this neighbourhood restaurant in Wallingford splits into a bright bistro front, a central bar, and cosy booths around an open kitchen at the back. The kitchen leans into sharing plates, including vegetables grown by locals with garden space to spare, which is either charming community spirit or a very polite way to manage produce costs.

Twinkling lights draped over a period stable conversion on a working estate in deepest Cornwall set the scene before you've even pushed open the door. Flora is a modern British restaurant where estate-grown produce shapes a menu that moves with the seasons. The log fire does its job, and the team does theirs. Follow the estate's own directions to get here, not your GPS, unless a detour through a field counts as atmosphere.

A two-person operation in Birmingham's Jewellery Quarter, where one half cooks and the other runs the room with the kind of warmth that makes a small restaurant feel like a dinner party. The interior leans into neutral tones and pot plants, calm enough to let seasonal tasting menus do the talking. Modern British cooking with a personal stamp on the flavours and plating, served at lunch or in longer form come evening.

Light wood, trailing foliage, and hand-painted ceramic tiles fill two cheerful floors on Heddon Street, where Santiago Lastra of KOL has scaled up the fonda, Mexico's neighbourhood canteen, into a full-blown Mayfair restaurant. The format is made for sharing: carnitas arrive with fresh tortillas, cocktails come in quantity, and the chef's cheesecake has become something of a signature. The room runs loud and warm, the way it's supposed to.

A narrow, rustic little restaurant tucked among the shops of a charming Essex seaside town, run with the kind of warm, engaged energy that makes a small room feel genuinely welcoming. The menu shifts with the clock: tasting menus after dark, a set lunch by day, and a roast on Sundays. Creative, visually arresting food with a quiet emphasis on provenance and wellbeing. Plant-based options run through every format, no special pleading required.

A relaxed coastal café on the Cornish waterfront where the menu runs on local seafood and homemade pasta, the two things you'd actually want anyway. The family operation keeps things informal without getting sloppy, and the terrace catches enough of a view that you'll order another glass of wine before you've noticed. Farfalle with crab is the move, the chilli landing just where it should.

A chicken fat tarte Tatin might be the most committed dessert menu decision in London. FOWL is a casual restaurant from the team behind Fallow, devoted entirely to the bird, beak to tail, from wings and strips through rotisserie and schnitzel to that notorious pudding. The approach is playful but the sourcing is serious, which is exactly the combination that keeps a one-note concept from becoming a gimmick.

Down a narrow lane in the Ribble Valley, this stone village pub runs an open fire and antique furnishings that make the interior feel like it was assembled over centuries rather than decorated. The kitchen leans Modern British, pulling from local producers for dishes that have a bit of ambition about them. Four seats at the Chef's Bench put you in the middle of the kitchen, which is either a thrill or a lot of eye contact, depending on your disposition.

A converted post office that now does considerably more interesting things with packages, Fukku is a lively izakaya in St Peter Port running through the full Japanese repertoire: tempura, robata, ramen, sushi. The chef's counter offers a more immersive, let-us-feed-you format if you want the kitchen to make the decisions. Sake and highball cocktails keep the room loud and happy, which it reliably is.

Counter seats face a fully open kitchen at this sleek modern restaurant in central Brighton, where the chefs often bring the food out themselves. The cooking draws on seasonal British produce with a creative, internationally inflected edge, the kind of menu that changes with what's good rather than what's safe. The room mixes vintage and contemporary pieces in a way that shouldn't work but does.

A pub in a Warwickshire village that was boarded up not so long ago, now running as a handsomely kept inn with rooms and a kitchen that moves between prawn cocktail and confit duck without breaking a sweat. The menu knows its British pub classics and leaves them mostly alone, then gets quietly playful when the mood takes it. The kind of place where the décor and the cooking are equally considered, and neither is trying too hard.

You ring a doorbell to get in, which sets the tone for everything that follows. This is a formal vegan tasting menu restaurant inside a handsome Regency townhouse in Soho, where Alexis Gauthier applies a classical French kitchen sensibility to entirely plant-based seasonal menus. It draws the kind of crowd that arrives dressed up and with something to celebrate, which is probably the right mindset for a vegan dinner that feels nothing like one.

A thatched pub on the edge of the woods in the South Downs, run by Brighton's Gingerman Group as their country escape. The menu keeps one foot in the classics, Welsh rarebit, prawns with Marie Rose, and extends the other toward something with a bit more ambition, with the kitchen applying equal care to both. Local wines on the list, cheerful staff throughout, and a room that feels genuinely tucked away from everything.

A cocktail bar greets you at street level before you descend into the restaurant proper, where teppanyaki and sushi counters ring the room. This is a full-service Japanese dining room in the heart of St. James's, the kind of neighborhood that expects white tablecloths and gets them. The sake list runs deep, the à la carte covers serious ground, and nasu dengaku is the sleeper dish worth ordering.

A former Georgian vicarage turned smallholding restaurant in deepest Devon, where the chef grew up and eventually came back to feed people on ingredients from the surrounding fifteen acres, pigs included. The tasting menu is unfussy country cooking explained by the people who made it, and the old house carries the kind of worn-in calm that makes you feel like you've been taken off the grid for a few hours.

A family restaurant in a small Angus village where one family member cooks and another works the room, and the arrangement has been going long enough that it feels like a calling rather than a business plan. The cooking is modern Scottish, technically confident, and leans hard on local produce. Five bedrooms mean you can stay the night, which, given the distance from anywhere, is the sensible move.

A flagstone-floored country pub with a roaring fire in winter and a terrace when the sun shows up, run by the team behind nearby Grantley Hall. The menu is a study in British comfort, braised beef and ale pie, sticky toffee pudding, trifle, all the classics done with care. Old trinkets line the walls, the room feels genuinely lived-in, and the cooking asks for nothing more than your full attention.

The booths are upholstered in grey, the menu is split into Earth, Land, and Sea, and the herbs probably came from the kitchen garden that morning. Grey's is the more relaxed dining room inside Whatley Manor, serving globally minded small plates to guests who'd rather not sit up quite so straight. On Sundays it pivots to a traditional roast, which feels both incongruous and completely right.

A country pub in a blink-and-miss-it Suffolk hamlet, sitting in the shadow of the local church and making very good use of fire. The kitchen keeps things straightforward, cooking over open flame and leaning on honest produce to build the kind of big, unfussy flavours that feel made for a pub lunch or a long Sunday afternoon. The team runs the room with the warmth of people who actually want you there.

The teak-furnished Yacht Lounge upstairs is a nice red herring: the name says pub, the room says something else entirely. This is a polished seafood restaurant a short walk from the quayside in Poole, with a refined nautical trim that stops well short of kitsch. The kitchen leans hard into the local catch, and the wine list pulls in nearby producers chosen to go alongside it rather than upstage it.

Eight guests, two open kitchens, and a meal that moves you between them like a very civilized relay race. Gwen is a dark, intimate modern tasting-room in Machynlleth, run by the team behind Ynyshir, with the same moody aesthetic and commitment to local makers. The chef cooks and serves throughout, so the line between kitchen and dining room is mostly decorative.

Haar sits at the edge of St Andrews with a Nordic-leaning seafood menu that keeps Arbroath smokies and smoked lobster in the conversation. The format runs from a fixed-price lunch to an evening tasting menu, and the kitchen's instinct is Scottish produce filtered through a wider, well-traveled palate. The team also run a cocktail bar and seafood shack nearby, which is handy when St Andrews fills up, as it tends to.

The path to the dining room winds through a kitchen garden where lunch is already growing. Hambledon is a Modern British restaurant set inside an old English commercial vineyard, all timber and glass with the South Downs rolling out beyond the vines. The wine list starts close to home, as you'd hope, and the cooking keeps things seasonal and unfussy. Bring someone you want to impress without making it obvious that's what you're doing.

An old water pump out back is all that remains of the village forge this place used to be. Now it's an intimate restaurant in rural Leicestershire, running a seasonally driven tasting menu of ambitious, layered dishes. The beef Wellington arrives whole and gets sliced tableside, which sounds fussy but lands as genuine theatre. Boutique rooms are available if you'd rather not navigate country lanes afterward.

A 16th-century stone house in the market town of Bedale, where drinks begin on the cobbled street out front before you move into a dining room that pairs old beams and a fireplace with clean modern lines. Chef Ruth Hansom is a local, and her tasting menu leans into that, pulling from the surrounding area with a focus that feels less like a concept and more like someone who actually knows her suppliers by name.

Rattan armchairs, crisp linen, and enough tropical greenery to feel vaguely like a conservatory that wandered to the Sussex coast. Harry's is the restaurant inside boutique hotel The Gallivant, and it leans into classical French cooking without apology: terrines, rabbit with mustard sauce, beef bourguignon. The kind of menu that knows exactly what it is and has no interest in reinventing itself, backed by produce and technique to match.

A wood-fired hearth anchors the open kitchen at this Modern British restaurant, tucked into the old part of Hull among some handsome Georgian streets. The ground floor doubles as a bar and bakery; head upstairs for the rustic two-room dining room, where small plates and grilled larger dishes share the menu. Check the boards for seasonal specials, and start with the sourdough before anything else.

A small, unfussy restaurant on Warwick's market square, in a building that has been a tailor's shop and, later, a restaurant called Tailors, which explains the name. The chef cooks hearty, classically rooted dishes with a light sense of play, and the room runs with the easy warmth of two old friends who seem genuinely glad you showed up. The wine flights, carefully put together, are a good reason to hand over the choosing.

A surprise tasting menu in a Cotswolds market town, run by two friends who named the place after the town's original medieval name. The kitchen leans on local produce and keeps the best dishes refreshingly unfussy. The service team can actually talk you through the food, which matters more than it sounds. Go with the wine pairing if you're in the mood to commit, and you probably will be.

The restaurant's name is a Welsh word with no clean English translation, somewhere between homesickness and pride, and the cooking follows that logic closely. It's a tasting menu spot on Cowbridge Road East, drawing on local and foraged produce, some of it from the team's own smallholding. The room is small and unpretentious, the service attentive without ceremony, and the dishes tend to land hardest when they let the ingredients make the case.

Racing memorabilia covers every wall of this Cotswold village pub, and if the afternoon card is running, it's probably on the TV above the bar. Settle in with a local ale and the daily lunch deal, or move through to the beamed dining room for the kind of food a pub should serve: Scotch eggs, gammon chop, black treacle pudding. The crowd knows which horses to back and which table to book.

A former village bank converted into a restaurant, and the bones of it still read clearly: high ceilings, interesting architecture, a distressed-chic dining room that somehow feels neither precious nor shabby. There's a kitchen counter if you like watching the work, and a rear terrace when Somerset obliges. The menus shift with the seasons, and seven rooms upstairs mean you don't have to rush back to anywhere.

Polished concrete walls and Mediterranean pastels set the scene at this plant-based restaurant on Portobello Road, where the menu runs from barbecued carrot to coal-roasted leeks and basically dares you to miss meat. It started as a pop-up and supper club before going permanent, which explains the ambition on the plate. Share across the small and large plates to cover the most ground, and bring the skeptic in your life.

A stone farmhouse on the North York Moors that the team has turned into a small, unpretentious restaurant where the menu reads like a map of the surrounding landscape. Moorland roe deer, Whitby crab, and whatever the kitchen garden is offering all find their way onto plates that lean hearty rather than fussy. The sauces in particular do a lot of quiet, convincing work.

A sunny little Middle Eastern restaurant on one of Bloomsbury's better streets, with whitewashed rooms and a pavement terrace that earns its keep come summer. The menu runs from shakshuka at breakfast through to an evening spread of meze and sharing plates, the kind of food that gives the table something to argue over pleasantly. Regulars tend to know exactly which room to ask for.

The ground-floor Casbah bar is where you start, cocktail in hand, looking out at the harbour before heading upstairs to the grill room proper. The open fire does most of the heavy lifting, handling whole fish and nose-to-tail cuts alongside smaller plates, all kept clean and uncluttered. Grab a window table if you can, or settle into a booth if you'd rather pretend the harbour view doesn't exist.

A glass-fronted dry-aging cabinet sits behind the bar of this nautically themed pub on the Humber estuary, which tells you roughly what kind of night you're in for. The kitchen leans into proper British cooking, with produce from their own smallholding and meats finished in a Josper oven. The cement works next door is not glamorous, but the estuary views go some way toward balancing the ledger.

A former bank on Waterloo Place, all onyx walls and white leather, now houses the London debut of a Cantonese group with outposts scattered across the globe. The scale is unapologetically grand, which suits the menu: traditional Cantonese cooking that ranges from honey-glazed char siu to Peking duck finished with caviar, in case you'd like something to tell people about later. Dress accordingly and don't arrive thinking about the bill.

Six tables, four counter seats, and Michael O'Hare doing whatever he wants, which turns out to be a constantly shifting parade of small, technically intricate courses in a quietly modern room in a smart Yorkshire village. The chef's cult following will recognize the restless creativity and the occasional Asian detour, like Peking-style duck appearing somewhere unexpected. A wine flight is the move.

A casual Greek bistro in the heart of York, where the menu runs through pita and dips, meatballs, and moussaka before landing on a Cretan orange cake that earns its place at the end of a meal. The room is cheerful and unfussy, the service warm, and the Greek wines and spirits give the whole thing a coherent logic. Good value at lunch, when the city's historic centre hums outside.

A bright, two-floor restaurant on the edge of historic Durham, Isla runs from brunch into an evening of sharing plates, with vegetables getting as much attention as anything else on the menu. The team behind nearby Coarse brought the same generous instincts here: big flavour without the bill to match. Cocktails, juices, and a solid glass list mean you can drink at whatever commitment level the afternoon requires.

Surf and turf is the whole point here, and the kitchen leans into it without apology. This loud, cheerful seafood and grill restaurant sits on the upper floor of the King's Cross Mare Street Market, where two chefs split duties across land and sea and do their most interesting work where those territories overlap. Duck and mussel skewers, lamb belly and clam, that kind of thing. The room is genuinely lively and the service keeps pace.

The walls are thick with photographs of actors, which makes sense given J.Sheekey has been feeding theatreland for what feels like forever. It's an old-school seafood restaurant with wood panelling, banquette seating, and soft lighting that flatters everyone equally. The menu runs from shellfish platters to a signature fish pie, and the kitchen handles both ends of that spectrum with quiet confidence. Vegetarians are looked after better than they might expect.

Exposed brick, warehouse windows, and a Josper grill doing serious work on steaks served on boards with a choice of sauces: this long-standing modern bistro on James Street South has a formula and sticks to it. The menu runs classic brasserie, unfussy and generous, and the room has a genuine buzz that a cheery team keeps moving along. The tomahawk and Chateaubriand are built for sharing, and the set menu is easy to love.

A farmstead restaurant built with reclaimed materials from the very land it sits on, which tells you something about how the chef thinks. Jericho runs a surprise tasting menu, so the kitchen decides, and courses lean heavily on game, wood fire, and whatever the kitchen garden is doing that week. It's rural Leicestershire, deeply so, and the wine list follows the same logic: natural, organic, biodynamic.

The bread here comes from flour the team mills themselves, which explains the counter regulars who arrive before the pastries run out. Jolene is a neighborhood bakery and all-day cafe on Newington Green that moonlights as a proper restaurant, with a blackboard of sharing plates and house-made pasta that changes daily. The wine list leans natural and small-producer, so you can feel appropriately virtuous about the whole afternoon.

Counter seats at the open kitchen, high-tops pressed close together, and a room that's been packed since it opened, José is a no-bookings tapas bar on Bermondsey Street that started the whole José Pizarro empire. The menu runs classic Spanish, acorn-fed jamón and all, and the drill is simple: arrive early, stake a spot, and order while you can. A Michelin Selected Restaurant, and one that still draws a crowd like it has something to prove.

The address only arrives 24 hours before your reservation, which either sounds like exactly your thing or absolutely does not. Inside, projections shift across the walls while a tasting menu works through dishes shaped by the chef's time at Ynyshir and The Fat Duck, plus a lot of miles logged abroad. Creative and unapologetically theatrical, it's the kind of place that wants you to surrender to it, and the service is relaxed enough that you probably will.

The cocktail trolley alone tells you this is the kind of neighbourhood bistro that takes itself seriously without being stiff about it. Deep booths, warm colours, and a menu that runs from a chopped salad to lobster soufflé make it equally good for a low-key Tuesday or a proper date night. Holland Park regulars fill the room like they own it, which more or less they do.

A French bistro dropped into a Cotswolds market town, Juliet leans into the classics without being precious about where they come from. The room runs warm and a little buzzy, and the team treats everyone like a regular. A dish of the day keeps things from getting too predictable. There's a private Piano Bar downstairs for celebrations, with a live musician to make the evening feel like an occasion.

A glitzy Chinese restaurant in Mayfair with a tropical fish tank keeping watch over the dining room. The menu sweeps the whole country but leans into the southern Nanyang region, mixing a handful of long-cooked classics with more elaborate, adventurous plates. The wine list quietly folds in some Chinese options, which is either a fun rabbit hole or an easy conversation starter, depending on who you're with.

A Greek all-day cafe and wine bar in Salford's Greengate development that shapeshifts depending on the hour, starting with brunch, then settling into meze and natural wine come evening. The lamb shoulder flatbread and chickpea stew do the heavy lifting on the menu, and tinned fish appears without irony. Service reads as genuinely warm rather than performative, which in a neighbourhood spot like this is the whole point.

Chicken tikka pie sits near the top of the menu at this smart Mayfair Indian restaurant, which tells you everything about Atul Kochhar's approach: Anglo-Indian cooking that doesn't apologize for the hyphen. Traditional regional dishes share the card with those hybrid experiments, and the room has enough polish to feel like a special occasion without anyone having to announce it. Ground floor is the place to be.

A seafood restaurant right on the Broadstairs seafront, with a dining room lined in mirrors, an open counter, and shelves of house preserves and chilli sauce. The menu follows the daily catch, so what you order depends on what came in that morning. The staff are the kind of relaxed but attentive that takes years to pull off without looking like it. The Michelin Guide has it selected.

Northern Thai barbecue is the spine of the menu at this lively Soho restaurant, which built its following through a residency near Borough Market before landing a permanent spot on Brewer Street. The cooking ranges across regions but keeps coming back to smoke and char, with the kind of vibrant, confident flavours that don't ask much of your wallet on the way out. It fills up fast and feels exactly like where Soho is right now.

Stone fireplaces, heavy beams, and a whitewashed exterior that looks like it grew out of the Herefordshire countryside rather than anything so deliberate as architecture. The Kilpeck Inn is a traditional village pub with food serious enough to fill the place with regulars who've stopped pretending they'll try somewhere new. The cooking leans old-school and hearty, the service is genuinely warm, and there are four rooms if you'd rather not drive back.

The name comes from khinkali, the Georgian dumplings with a pinched handle on top that you're supposed to eat without a fork, and they're the anchor of this lively Charlotte Street restaurant. The menu fans out from there into Georgian small and large plates, while downstairs a basement bar called Kinky keeps things going with creative cocktails and a techno soundtrack, which is one way to run a Tuesday.

A converted Grade II-listed barn tucked into a city centre courtyard is an unexpected setting, but Kintsu leans into it with contemporary décor and an open kitchen. The format is multi-course tasting menus, modern British, with a seasonal thread running through dishes that tend to riff on familiar pairings rather than abandon them entirely. The kind of place where the room is quieter than you'd expect and the service team clearly enjoys being there.

The sixth floor of the old War Office building, with London's rooftops spread out below and a terrace that fills up fast once the sun appears. This is a contemporary Japanese restaurant from chef Endo Kazutoshi, the menu roving from delicate nigiri to prime cuts off the robata grill. The room is elegant in the way that only a converted Edwardian government building can be, which is to say: extremely.

An 18th-century barn on a rewilding estate in West Sussex, where lunch means seasonal British cooking shaped almost entirely by what the land around you is producing. The flatbreads with wild garlic butter are a good reason to arrive hungry. The estate runs a farm shop and walking trails, so the meal tends to become most of the day, which seems to be the point. Summer brings occasional BBQ evenings for those who plan ahead.

Kota means "shellfish" in Maori, which tells you almost everything about where the tasting menu's loyalties lie. Sitting on the Porthleven harbourside, the restaurant pulls Cornish seafood through a lens shaped by chef Jude Kereama's Maori, Chinese, and Malaysian heritage, with fish or meat options at each course. The result is somewhere between a coastal dinner and a quiet geography lesson, in the best possible company.

A clock tower and bell tower mark the spot just off Surbiton High Street, which is a bold architectural move for a neighbourhood Indian restaurant and one that largely delivers on the promise. Inside, it's bright and colourful, and the pan-Indian menu travels from tandoori dishes in the north to the gentler spicing of the south. Start with a street food snack, then let the kitchen's clean, well-balanced flavours do the persuading.

Wooden shelves stacked with Greek wines line the walls of this large, rustic-leaning Greek restaurant in Kensington, with a fireplace that makes the whole room feel less like a Tuesday night out than a visit to someone's house on a hillside. The team will happily talk you through the provenance of each dish, which is a good sign. The taramasalata alone makes a case for itself, and the chocolate walnut cake with kaimaki ice cream is how you should end.

Coal smoke and kitchen garden vegetables set the tone at this contemporary British restaurant tucked into an old furnace house on the Hampton Manor estate. It's the more relaxed sibling to the estate's fine-dining room, with open-fire cooking and produce pulled from the walled garden just outside. The wine list leans natural, biodynamic, and orange. In summer, the former greenhouse opens with its own terrace.

Deer antlers hang from the ceiling and framed lithographs of wild birds line the walls, which tells you most of what you need to know about the menu at this Kensington bistro. The cooking is classical French, the kind that takes confit duck leg seriously and still does a proper Paris-Brest. Seasonal game features heavily, and the pastel room is warmer than the hunting-lodge décor might suggest.

Brick floors, exposed beams, and a menu that opens with coq au vin: La Popote is a classic French restaurant tucked inside a converted barn on a Cheshire farm, which makes the cassoulet feel both completely out of place and exactly right. The team spent years cooking in Paris, and the food reads like they meant it. Friendly service, countryside quiet, and a clafoutis at the end.

Tucked into the Victorian ironwork of Great Western Arcade, Land is a small, intimate vegetarian restaurant running a set menu that's almost entirely vegan. Pan-Asian touches show up throughout, carrot char siu sitting alongside sake lees and other quietly surprising moves. The menu shifts with the seasons, and the cooking has a genuinely inventive streak that doesn't feel like it's trying to win you over. Wine flights are available, and the service is warm without hovering.