The Best Places to Eat and Drink in the United Kingdom

A bright, modern dining room on a quietly serious Fitzrovia street, this is the chef Ben Murphy's latest project, running the full range from set lunch to tasting menu. The kitchen leans into high-quality British produce cooked with enough precision to make a venison rump feel like an event. Ambitious without being stiff, it's the kind of place where the shorter menu at lunch is a perfectly reasonable way in.

The open kitchen sits raised and spotlit, ringed by a counter, so dining here feels a little like watching a cooking show where you're also in it. This creative tasting-menu restaurant in Fitzrovia draws on flavors from across the world, with dishes named accordingly: "French Man in Japan", "Chinese Man in France". The theatrical framing could easily tip into gimmick, but the kitchen has the technique to keep it grounded.

The menu descriptions here say things like "Fungi" and "Fish," which tells you nothing until a chef appears at your table to explain and finish the dish in front of you. This is a fine dining room inside the grand old Midland Hotel, done up in Belle Époque splendor, but Adam Reid's multi-course cooking leans into his northern roots rather than the Gallic name above the door.

A Victorian country house turned hotel restaurant, tucked into a wooded hillside above the Mawddach estuary. The old billiards room is now a drawing room you pass through to reach the dining room, where the conservatory seats are the obvious move. The kitchen leans on quality sourcing and keeps things modern without fuss. Staying overnight is, by most accounts, the sensible plan.

A former Grade II-listed bank in Marylebone, ceilings and all, converted into a sleek contemporary Japanese restaurant with a cocktail bar and an open kitchen where the robata grill gets a workout. The menu runs from sashimi and nigiri through to caramelised black cod, with Wagyu cuts available for anyone who feels like making an occasion of it. The room does a lot of the heavy lifting.

The robata charcoal grill is the anchor of this Japanese restaurant sitting above the Japan House cultural centre on Kensington High Street. Counter seats face an open kitchen where skewers of chicken thigh and miso pork belly take their turn over the coals alongside an extensive sushi selection. At lunch, the hakozen box covers most bases neatly. The room is stylish and reliably buzzing, which for Kensington is saying something.

Named after the Arabic word for wild cardoon, this Notting Hill restaurant pulls Palestinian cooking into a bright, modern room on one of the neighborhood's more cheerful streets. The menu leans into sharing plates, with dishes that keep the deep flavors of traditional recipes while quietly updating the form. The wine list pairs French standards with bottles from Palestine and Jordan, which feels less like a gimmick and more like the point.

The name comes from Coleridge's albatross, which is either a promising omen or a warning, depending on how you read the poem. Either way, this counter-dining seafood restaurant in Birmingham pulls you in fast: chefs, sommeliers, and servers all talk to you like they mean it. The Japanese-inflected tasting menu leans heavily on raw and cured fish, keeping preparations spare enough that the seafood does the actual arguing.

A Victorian pub on the village green in Hertfordshire, reached by following a succession of narrow lanes until you're fairly sure you've gone wrong. Inside there's a warming fire and genuine old-inn character; in summer the covered terrace, fitted with sheepskin-lined benches for when the evening turns, is where you want to be. The kitchen does traditional British cooking with confidence, no flourishes required.

A dining pub on a village green that happens to share its postcode with the country's tallest maypole and a duck pond, which tells you something about the pace of life here. The rooms are full of beams and exposed brick, as required by pub law, but the kitchen ranges freely: dynamite shrimp and ceviche sit alongside fish and chips without anyone apologizing. Bedrooms lean pleasantly Scandinavian. Welcoming from the start.

A pistachio soufflé, properly risen, tells you most of what you need to know about a kitchen. This six-table restaurant sits inside a country hotel better known as a wedding venue, which means it runs quietly under the radar in the far southwest corner of Wales. The short à la carte follows the seasons and leans on local suppliers, and the team brings the kind of focused attention you'd expect from a room that small.

Fire is the organizing principle at Alta, a Northern Spanish sharing-plates restaurant tucked across two floors of Kingly Court in Soho. The menu leans on Navarra influences, running everything from Middlewhite pork to white beetroot through the flames for a char that ties the room together. The team navigates the menu with you rather than reciting it at you, which in this neighborhood counts for something.

Lázaro Rosa-Violan's rainforest interiors set the tone at this sprawling Latin American restaurant in Mayfair: layers of timber and terracotta, enough leafy plants to require a machete. The kitchen travels the Amazon basin through the cuisines of Brazil, Colombia, and Peru. It started in Madrid, spread to Dubai and Monte-Carlo, and the London room on Berkeley Square draws the kind of crowd that dresses for the jungle only if the jungle has a dress code.

A small seafood bistro just off the Margate esplanade where meat never makes an appearance, leaving the whole menu to oysters, scallops, sole, and whatever else came in that morning. The cooking is pared back enough that the fish does the talking, which tends to suit the kind of place that knows its produce is good. Three rooms upstairs with sea views if you're staying the weekend and not quite ready to go home.

Rosemary and nori focaccia is as good an opening argument as any for the Italian-Japanese tasting menu at this Dalston neighbourhood spot. It's a kondate-style parade of courses that shouldn't cohere but keeps doing so, plate after plate. Sit at the marble counter if you can, where the open kitchen makes the whole thing feel like watching a friendly wager play out in real time.

A converted bank in the middle of Narberth that now feeds you slow-cooked duck egg and salt marsh mutton while the chef circles the room with top-ups and stories. This is a proudly Welsh modern restaurant, rooted in foraging and local produce, with the kind of warmth that makes a former vault feel like someone's front room. Occasional foraging days let you earn your dinner before you eat it.

Tucked into Deansgate Mews on an elevated walkway inside the old Great Northern building, this vegetable-forward sharing-plates bistro sources from local, ethical growers and lets each dish arrive one at a time so nothing gets lost in the crowd. The bread comes from Holy Grain next door, the wine list leans low-intervention, and the room runs warm and loud in the way that makes you order another round without noticing.

Bare plaster walls and wooden tables set the tone at this contemporary British restaurant in Mayfair, where the chef Chantelle Nicholson runs a kitchen built around small producers, seasonal ingredients, and a genuine zero-waste philosophy. The cocktails are made from odds and ends most kitchens would bin, and the wine list is sourced from growers focused on soil health, which gives the whole place a coherence that most "sustainable dining" pitches only gesture at.

Thirty-one floors up the Shard, which turns out to be less than halfway, the windows here do most of the talking. It's a modern restaurant where the kitchen keeps things lean and ingredient-led rather than theatrical, which is a sensible call when the room already has a lot going on. The crowd tends toward celebrations and out-of-towners who booked months ago and are visibly pleased with themselves, and fairly so.

Tajima Wagyu over binchotan charcoal, seasoned with nothing but salt and pepper, is essentially the whole menu at this Japanese steakhouse tucked into Mayfair. The cuts are serious enough that the restraint feels earned rather than fussy. The room has the feel of a very composed private living room, which either puts you at ease or makes you wonder if you've wandered into the wrong flat.

A vintage stainless steel counter runs along what used to be a chemist's, which tells you most of what you need to know about Arbequina's low-key charm. This tapas bar on Cowley Road keeps the menu short and the portions generous, mixing Spanish classics with the occasional Middle Eastern detour. Spanish wines and natural bottles round out a drinks list that matches the room: relaxed, a little bohemian, and not trying too hard.

The railway arch frame is brick and low, and trains occasionally remind you they're up there, but the room is usually too loud with happy Italians and their admirers to notice. This is a casual Italian restaurant a short walk from Battersea Park, where the cooking leans rustic and unfussy in the way that takes more discipline than it looks. The focaccia that opens every meal makes a quiet argument for the whole approach.

A charcoal grill sits at the center of things at this smart modern brasserie in the heart of St Ives, sending Mediterranean intent into a room that could easily coast on Cornish seafood alone. The menu leans toward sharing, with the kitchen folding harissa, aioli, and garlic yoghurt into local catch. Grab a lower-floor table if you want to watch the cooks work, and let someone talk you into starting with the sherry flight.

The black-and-white photographs and 1920s banquettes will feel familiar if you remember what stood here before, and that's rather the point. Arlington is a polished European restaurant in St James's where the menu stays firmly in the classics, dressed crab, chicken Milanese, a fishcake that regulars will argue about at length. The room runs with the kind of quiet efficiency that money tends to buy, and the back banquettes fill early.

A converted coaching house on the edge of the old city, Arras is a modern dining restaurant where the bread alone, baked at their sister bakery Little Arras, sets a promising tone for what follows. The cooking moves with the seasons and leans into inventive combinations, while the British cheese selection arrives on a handmade oak trolley, which is the kind of detail that makes cheese people visibly emotional. The wine list gives English bottles a fair showing.

Quique Dacosta's Fitzrovia restaurant is built around rice, specifically the Valencian paella in more forms than you thought possible, from pork knuckle to tofu and sea lettuce. It's a big, dramatically designed dining room, and the ground floor seats put you close enough to the open kitchen to watch the wood-fired stoves throw actual flames, which is the kind of dinner theatre that earns its place on the bill.

The restaurant takes its name from Bollywood legend Asha Bhosle, who is, among her many talents, apparently also a restaurateur. This Indian dining room in central Birmingham runs through the subcontinent's regions at some breadth, with tandoori kebabs as the anchor and a generous spread of vegetarian dishes alongside. The kitchen cooks with enough confidence that the menu's ambition rarely outpaces the plate.

A skylight cut into the roof of a 17th-century Cotswolds manor floods the compact dining room with natural light, which sets the mood better than any chandelier could. This is a tasting menu restaurant where the whole room eats together, course by course, the kind of synchronised service that turns dinner into an occasion. The cooking leans on clean, confident flavours rather than plate architecture, which is a quietly confident choice.

A seasonal tasting menu restaurant tucked into a hotel on Camden Place, where an open fire does the welcoming in winter and bright artwork stops the spare, minimal room from feeling too serious. The kitchen leans into deep, slow flavors, the kind that come from duck leg suet pudding. Service moves at exactly the right pace, and the option to pair your way through with wine flights or beer keeps things from getting too reverent.

A Georgian townhouse in Edgbaston, gilded and upholstered within an inch of its life, housing a restaurant that calls its cooking Indo-Persian, pulling threads from Afghanistan, Turkey, and Balochistan into a single menu. The tasting menu covers the most ground, but the Sultani lamb chops, melting and gently spiced, have a way of making the decision for you. It's a room that takes drama seriously, and so does the kitchen.

A sibling to Italian spot Benoli just down the road, Bar Cerdita is a compact, rustic tapas bar where the blackboard changes daily and sharing is quietly non-negotiable. The menu runs through the Spanish canon, pan con tomate, pork in several forms, and a tarta de Santiago finished with olive oil ice cream. A short Spanish wine list and a cocktail of the day keep things moving. Small room, convivial noise, exactly the kind of place you stay longer than planned.

Fried squid with chorizo sits alongside brill meunière on a menu that wanders happily between Spain and France without much guilt about it. Bar Valette is a bistro-ish spot on Kingsland Road where the room has proper bistro energy and the young team run it with the kind of unhurried calm that's harder to pull off than it looks. Start with the crispy snacks and something from the sherry list before committing to the rest.

A working vineyard and orchard is an unusual setting for Middle Eastern-inflected small plates, but here we are. Barnaby's started as a pop-up and stayed, which means the room still has that improvised energy without the chaos. The fixed small-plates menu leans on quality Cornish produce sharpened with North African spicing, and the terrace is made for opening with a glass of the estate's own wine and an oyster or two.

Sea trout pastrami is the dish that tells you what kind of place this is: a seafood restaurant on Leith's Shore that lets the fish do the talking without much theatrical interference. The menu moves from shareable small plates at lunch to proper sit-down plates come evening, whole sole, half lobster, and the like. The room has the easy warmth of a place where the staff seem to mean it.

Carved wood panels and paper lanterns set the scene at this Soho Sichuan restaurant that's been around long enough to feel like part of the neighborhood furniture. The chillis and Sichuan peppercorns come direct from China, and you'll feel it, in a good way. Portions lean generous, which suits the sharing format well. The room fills with regulars who've long since stopped second-guessing the heat level.

A converted pub steps from the beach, Bass and Lobster is a seafood bistro where the daily set menu keeps the regulars coming back on a schedule. Fresh catch, plenty of specials, and a fish-and-chips that arrives with mushy peas and curry sauce, the way it should. You can watch the kitchen through a window, which the chefs handle with notable good cheer. The Michelin Guide lists it among its selected restaurants.

Glass walls on three sides make the room feel like a fishbowl in the nicest possible way, which suits a place that calls itself an illegitimate trattoria. By day it runs as a coffee shop and bakery; come evening, the Italian side takes over with cicchetti, homemade pasta, and British seasonal produce folded quietly into the mix. The Michelin Guide has it on their list, and the friendly, unfussy service makes the whole thing feel like someone's very good dinner party.

A country pub on the Longleat Estate, which means the game on the menu came from somewhere just beyond the window. Local ales go well with the open fire or the terrace, and the dining rooms feel genuinely cosy rather than decorator-cosy. The kitchen leans on local producers and estate meat, though haddock and chips remains a perfectly honourable order. Bedrooms upstairs if you'd rather not navigate the country lanes afterward.

A 15th-century coaching inn on the village green, with a garden and terrace that carry their weight in summer and a crackling fire that earns its keep in winter. The cooking is modern and seriously assembled, classical technique doing the quiet work underneath. The room is smart without being stiff, and the staff seem to actually enjoy being there. A cottage next door handles overnight stays.

A wall of more than 90 green plates is the first thing you clock in this all-day Modern British restaurant, tucked inside a former Georgian greenhouse with vaulted ceilings and whitewashed walls. The menu is short and restrained, letting the produce carry the argument. Counter seats by the windows are kept for walk-ins, and you can bring wine over from their sister Beckford Bottle Shop next door for a very reasonable corkage.

A pub sitting on the square of a small Wiltshire village, The Bell runs on produce from the vast Ramsbury Estate on its doorstep, which makes the sourcing story feel less like a marketing line and more like a geographic fact. There's a bar, a restaurant, rooms, and a café, so the place has clearly decided to handle everything. British cooking, classic in spirit, leaning seasonal.

Striped awnings over the pavement and walls thick with vintage posters give Bellanger the mood of a Parisian grand café, and the kitchen leans into that fantasy without being enslaved by it. Coq au vin and beef bourguignon anchor the menu while southern French and Mediterranean dishes quietly do their own thing alongside. It runs all day, breakfast through late, so the large cocktail bar earns its keep at every hour.

Twenty seats arranged at a counter where the kitchen team cooks, plates, and serves everything themselves, which at least settles the question of who to flag down. This intimate modern restaurant in the heart of Bury St Edmunds runs sharing plates at lunch and a tasting menu at dinner, leaning into Spanish flavors with a restrained hand. The bread and desserts come from the chef's wife, which sounds like a division of labor that works out very well for the room.

The Guinness rarebit potato has been known to settle the question of what to order before you've even sat down. This cosy modern bistro on a student-heavy stretch of Smithdown Road runs on chatty, attentive service and cooking that's generous without making a fuss about it. Sundays bring a proper roast. The vibe is relaxed enough that no one feels like they're being watched.

A modern bistro on one of Norwich's scruffier, more interesting streets, Benedicts keeps things deliberately unfussy, letting Norfolk ingredients do the talking. The chef is a vocal champion of the region's larder, and the cooking wears that quietly, without turning the menu into a geography lesson. A few different menus run in varying lengths, and on warm days the alfresco small plates outside are a gentler way in.

A marble-topped cocktail bar greets you on arrival, and a negroni before dinner is practically mandatory. Benoli is a three-floor Italian restaurant near Norwich Castle with a warm, unhurried feel and a menu anchored by homemade pasta and desserts serious enough to make you rethink skipping them. The name is a blend of two brothers, which explains the family warmth the team carries into the room.

Recipes passed down through three generations anchor the menu at this warm, well-dressed southern Indian restaurant in Cheltenham. The cooking leans into Kerala, with dishes built on bright, layered spicing rather than heat for its own sake. If commitment is proving difficult, the banquet menus take the decision out of your hands entirely, which is either a relief or an excuse, depending on your evening.

The dramatically red banquettes inside this former banking hall do a lot of the heavy lifting before the food arrives. It's a French-leaning Modern British bistro on the ground floor of the Sofitel in St James's, positioned as the more relaxed, easier-on-the-wallet sibling to the Wild Honey next door. The menu leans Gallic with Mediterranean detours, and the prix fixe draws the kind of crowd that quietly congratulates itself for finding it.

Twelve seats is the whole restaurant, so booking is not a casual afterthought. Black Radish is a tiny Modern British dining room tucked inside Merton Abbey Mills, a riverside spot that has spent centuries being other things. The cooking leans on serious sourcing, with the menu shifting to whatever the chef has decided is worth getting excited about that week. The chef's table for two puts you right at the pass.

Named for the Welsh word for taste, this modern restaurant in a converted windmill hotel keeps the cooking focused and local: Solva crab and lobster, Welsh lamb, produce pulled from the Pembrokeshire coast and hills, finished over the grill with little fuss. Sundays bring a traditional roast. The team runs the room warmly, which counts for a lot when you're this far out on the peninsula and the weather has opinions.

A fixed-price Modern British restaurant tucked into the heart of Norwich, where a "primo piatto" course quietly signals the chef's Italian background, brown crab risotto landing between the local asparagus and the Norfolk Black chicken. The room walks the line between neighborhood warmth and something a bit more composed, which is a genuinely hard trick to pull off. The kind of dinner where the menu has clearly been thought about.

Dark green walls with rose gold panelling give this Ascot restaurant its look, which hovers somewhere between country house and cocktail bar without fully committing to either. Modern European cooking is the draw, with confident technique and combinations that actually make sense together. You can sit by the fire pit in the main room or take the lighter conservatory, and the service team seem to genuinely enjoy themselves, which helps.

Every table has a "Press for Champagne" button, which tells you more or less everything about Bob Bob Ricard City. This is a brasserie built for excess, perched on the third floor of the Cheesegrater in the City, and dressed accordingly: gold, gleam, and a menu that leans into caviar, oysters, and Josper-grilled steaks. The financial district crowd doesn't need a second invitation. Come with an expense account or a very good excuse.

A former pub in Margate's old town, now a small, unpretentious osteria where the team makes pasta by hand and sources much of the larder from Campania. The cooking runs to rustic small plates and snacks, including a bread "meatball" in tomato sauce that sounds like a joke until you try it. The same crew run a deli nearby that moonlights as a wine bar on weekends, which makes the whole block feel like a southern Italian takeover of the Kent coast.

The village of Trottiscliffe bought its own pub back from property developers, which makes Bowleys a Modern British restaurant with an unusually compelling origin story. The Yates family now runs the small dining room, turning out a concise menu of classically grounded, ambitious plates built around local produce, some of it their own. Even the butter is made in-house, which tells you something about how seriously they take the details here.

Two sandstone cottages on a Yorkshire high street that have been feeding people since before most of their diners were born. Box Tree is a formal tasting-menu restaurant where the chef grew up between Western Australia and Britain, and the menu quietly shows it, with Jarrah honey and Paddle Pop ice cream appearing alongside the kind of cooking you'd expect from a room this serious. The team pulls off warmth without dropping the white-tablecloth register.

A seventeenth-century manor house in the Kentish countryside, converted into a hotel with the kind of features that make architects slow down on country drives. The restaurant occupies a modern extension and keeps its focus squarely local, running Kentish produce through flavourful, unfussy dishes. Kent wines make a strong case on the pairing list, and there's a pub in the grounds if you'd rather start with something cold before sitting down.

Murano glass chandeliers hang above mirrored walls inside a stand at Craven Cottage, which is a sentence you don't get to write very often. This brasserie on the Fulham Pier development has a Thames-facing terrace and a menu that runs the full length of the pitch, from simple omelettes to whole butterflied sea bass. The kitchen is most at home with the classics, pie and mash included, and the produce throughout is the kind that does the talking for you.

A 16th-century house on the main square of a small Dorset market town, this is the kind of cozy, unpretentious restaurant that makes shabby-chic feel earned rather than styled. The menu is short, Mediterranean-leaning, and moves with the seasons. Cooking is confident without being showy, letting good regional produce do most of the talking. Their homewares shop, Brassica Mercantile, sits directly across the road, if you leave wanting to take the vibe home.

A long counter wraps around an open kitchen where chefs work the grills in full view, which sets the tone for this small, convivial restaurant on Great Western Road. The menu leans into Scotland's larder, from coastal shellfish to foraged things, with natural wines to keep it loose. The terrace is a bonus when Glasgow remembers it has weather.

Army mess clubs of colonial India set the theme at this big, boisterous Indian restaurant spread across the ground floor of the Bloomberg building. Live fire does most of the work, with the menu leaning on barbecue and street food dishes. Several screens show sport, keeping the noise level at a pitch that makes conversation an act of commitment. A solid lineup of beers and whiskies helps with that.

A restored Victorian lido sits just outside the windows, which fold back completely in good weather and make it hard to remember you're in Bristol. The restaurant runs across a former viewing gallery upstairs, with small plates and Mediterranean cooking that leans on whatever's genuinely good, crab tagliatelle with lobster butter being a recurring argument for that approach. Poolside bar snacks are available if you'd rather eat in a swimsuit.

Bryn Williams's beachside brasserie sits right on the Colwyn Bay promenade, with the sea filling the windows and blue leather banquettes running the length of the room. The vibe is faux-industrial but easy, the kind of place where a relaxed lunch can stretch without anyone minding. The menu leans into local seafood, kept simple enough that the fish itself does the work. Busy enough to feel like somewhere people actually want to be.

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Clwydian Range while you eat, which is a better view than most theatre intervals offer. This modern British brasserie on the first floor of Theatr Clwyd leans hard on Welsh produce, including the chef's own pedigree Welsh Black beef, which shows up in more than one form on the menu. The room is warm, the service runs smoothly, and the prices won't require a second look.

The green-tiled bar is a nod to East London's pub tradition, which feels about right for a vegetarian Middle Eastern spot that treats a plate of oyster mushroom skewers with the same seriousness your local gives a pint. Sharing plates fill the table: dips, flatbreads, falafel, latkes, all of it lifted by careful spicing. The Spitalfields original is compact and rustic, and dinner hands the menu decisions to the kitchen entirely.

Two master sommeliers own this French bistro de luxe in the City, which explains why the Burgundy list reads like someone actually cared. The distressed walls and rustic charm set the tone for classic Gallic cooking, the kind where pâté-en-croûte appears without irony. Seasonal Mediterranean notes drift in, but the kitchen stays rooted in France, with confident technique and good produce doing the heavy lifting.

Wood panelling, simple tables, and a menu built around pommes anna and crème brûlée: Café Bohème wears its French bistro look without irony. Tucked down a city centre side street in Aberdeen, it's the kind of place where the classics are taken seriously but the kitchen doesn't stop there, folding in enough modern technique to keep things from feeling like a museum piece. The team runs it with evident warmth.

A chalkboard of daily specials and a menu that shifts with the seasons give this small Fitzrovia bistro its rhythm. It sits just around the corner from the British Museum, which brings in a mixed crowd, though the room feels more neighbourhood than tourist trap. The cooking is unfussy British contemporary, the service friendly without being performative, and the whole thing moves at the unhurried pace of somewhere that knows exactly what it wants to be.

A dish called the Whoopsy Splunker tells you everything about the mood here. Paul Ainsworth's Italian brasserie in Padstow keeps things loose and lively, with pizzas and pastas doing the heavy lifting alongside the odd Cornish-Mediterranean crossover, like cod dropped into a pancetta and chorizo Tuscan bean stew. The glass-enclosed terrace fills with sunburned holidaymakers happy to be somewhere this relaxed.

The sign outside reads "fire, wine, vinyl," which turns out to be a complete sentence. This Golborne Road restaurant runs on sharing plates kissed by open flame, cocktails worth a second look, and a basement DJ spinning from an actual album library most nights. The food leans classically European with enough confidence to feel effortless. Come with people you like; the room is intimate enough that solo dining would feel like a conversation you forgot to have.

The wine list at this Belgravia Italian restaurant runs deep for a reason: the Antinori family have been growing grapes in Tuscany since before anyone was keeping track. The cooking leans classic, hearty, and Tuscan, the kind of food that makes sense alongside a serious red. The chocolate fondant in a crisp pastry case has a following of its own. A Selected Restaurant in the Michelin Guide.

Canton Blue has its own street entrance on the side of the Peninsula, which is the hotel's way of signaling that this Cantonese restaurant takes itself seriously. The dining room is the sumptuous kind that rewards dressing up, and the menu runs from dim sum to Peking duck for two. The cocktail bar, Little Blue, gives you somewhere elegant to begin while you decide whether to order both.

Candlelit and close, this moody little set-menu restaurant sits in Stockbridge, the Edinburgh neighbourhood that has quietly become the city's most interesting place to eat. The cooking takes a modern approach to Scottish land and sea, with a fondness for preservation techniques and the occasional creative detour. Natural and low-intervention wines fill out the list, which feels like a considered choice rather than a trend the team discovered last Tuesday.

Pewter tankards hang from the beamed ceiling, open fires flicker in the corners, and nobody seems in any hurry to leave. This West Hoathly village pub has been around forever and still feels like it belongs to the locals rather than the tourist trail. The kitchen sticks to hearty pub classics, the kind of cooking where a steak and ale pie with triple-cooked chips is exactly the right answer. Four bedrooms upstairs if you'd rather not drive home.

A basement cocktail bar feeds into a bright ground-floor Mexican restaurant in Marylebone, where the open kitchen keeps things lively and the menu runs from hamachi tostadas to a tight lineup of tacos and big sharing platters built for a group. Brunch pulls in a mezcal-and-margaritas crowd that seems happily unbothered by the time of day. The Michelin Guide has it on their list.

A converted barn on the Wiston Estate winery, all oak beams and brick, where the soil type itself gives the place its name. Chalk is a smart, seasonal restaurant where the short menu changes with what's growing and the obvious move is pairing it with one of the estate's own sparkling wines. The cooking is clean and unfussy, letting combinations do the work. A good place to eat well without anyone making it complicated.

The chef spent years running a restaurant in Tel Aviv's Jaffa Market, and that sensibility travels: Chapel Market Kitchen is a cosy neighbourhood grill and oyster bar on Islington's street-market strip, where produce from the stalls outside ends up on the menu. Expect raw bar, homemade pasta, and cuts from the grill, all on the same unpretentious list. The wine selection is unexpectedly deep for a room this small, with plenty by the glass.