The Best Places in the United Kingdom

A whitewashed pub in a tidy village on the edge of the Ayrshire hills, the Kirkmichael Arms runs a menu broad enough to include tom yum pork scratchings alongside the usual pubby comforts. Every dish comes paired with a wine or cocktail suggestion from a list that won't make you wince. Portions lean generous, the room feels properly cosy, and the staff seem to mean it when they make you welcome.

A North Pennine hamlet pub that takes its postcode seriously, sourcing everything within 50 miles, which in this particular corner of Cumbria means the kitchen leans hard on game. Roasted grouse and partridge ballotine are the kind of dishes that make sense here, surrounded by shooting country. The raspberry soufflé is operating well above pub-pudding expectations. Four rooms upstairs if you'd rather not drive back through the moors in the dark.

Low ceilings, exposed brick, and an open fire make The Lamb Inn feel like someone's extremely well-fed living room. It's a proper village pub in a stone hamlet outside Oxford, serving modern British food alongside the kind of classics that remind you why pub food has devoted followers. In summer the tiered garden does a lot of work. The kitchen leans on good ingredients and leaves them largely alone, which turns out to be a reasonable philosophy.

A thatched roof and whitewashed walls in a proper Oxfordshire village, and the inside delivers on the promise: low beams, a relaxed team, and a menu that runs from a pint with nibbles to something more considered. The kitchen cooks pub classics alongside more elaborate dishes, all grounded in carefully sourced ingredients. French onion soup is on the menu, and it tells you exactly what this place is about, hearty, confident cooking that doesn't need to announce itself.

Tucked into the first floor of a South Kensington gallery complex, this Mediterranean restaurant sits close enough to the V&A that you could practically sprint from a Raphael cartoon to your table. The kitchen pairs Med technique with British ingredients, resulting in dishes with a quiet, unfussy confidence. Museum crowds and locals who know the neighbourhood fill the room on any given afternoon.

The ale bread arrives with whipped marmite butter, and after that the tone is pretty much set: unfussy, confident Welsh cooking inside Tenby Golf Club's spacious clubhouse restaurant. The chef leans hard on local produce without making a fuss about it, and the beach next door gives you a solid excuse to linger. The Michelin Guide lists it among its selected restaurants.

A compact, Nordic-feeling restaurant near the edge of Leith, with an open kitchen running the length of one wall and counter seats for anyone who wants to watch the work up close. The tasting menu moves through Scottish ingredients, scallops among the regulars, shifting from delicate to punchy without losing its footing. The room is pared back enough that you notice the warmth of the service, which is the point.

The carved Jacobean fireplace in the bar is reason enough to take a seat and stay awhile. This is a traditional country pub and dining room in the Nottinghamshire countryside, doing hearty British cooking without apology. The local Stilton is the thing to order: Colston Bassett is one of only six places in the world licensed to make it, so skipping the cheese course here would be a genuine act of self-sabotage.

The lane to South Pool is narrow enough to make you question your choices, but the pub at the end of it sits among thatched cottages like it grew there. The short menu leans on lamb and beef from the owners' farm a few miles away and crab from Salcombe down the road, keeping things honest rather than clever. Two nearby cottages mean you can skip the white-knuckle drive back until morning.

The crispy layered potatoes with truffle salt and parmesan have their own quiet reputation at this hotel dining room inside the Feathers, a short walk from Blenheim Palace. The room wears its 17th-century bones lightly, old beams sitting alongside pale pastels without making a fuss about either. Modern British cooking, a menu that moves by season, and a front-of-house team that reads the table without hovering over it.

The old banking counter now does duty as the bar, which sets the tone for this intimate tasting menu restaurant in a Norfolk village. A husband-and-wife team runs it, one in the kitchen and one on the floor, with produce pulled from their own allotment. The menu comes in shorter and longer forms, and the wine pairings are described with the kind of enthusiasm that makes you feel rude saying no.

A former butcher's shop in the Cotswolds that never quite lost its bones, now a relaxed seafood-forward restaurant where the charcoal grill does serious work alongside Cornish scallops and Dover sole. The family has run the room for decades, and it shows: the front of house is warm without being cloying, the menu moves between land and sea without losing focus, and Stow-on-the-Wold is a better town for having it.

A former coastguard's cottage in one of Cornwall's prettiest fishing villages, with a sub-tropical garden and sea views toward St Clement's Isle that make lingering over the wine list feel practically mandatory. The menu runs as a laid-back brasserie with a Mediterranean lean, the kind of place where the room is unhurried and nobody's rushing you out. Bedrooms upstairs, most with sea views, if you'd rather not drive back along those lanes.

The restaurant sits inside a glass orangery attached to the old manse for Blair Castle, with ten acres of grounds and a walled garden doing their best to upstage dinner. It's a relaxed country dining room despite all that grandeur, serving modern Scottish cooking built around produce like Skye langoustine and Perthshire mallard, kept clean and uncluttered on the plate. Chatty service keeps things from going stiff, and rooms are available for anyone who's come too far to drive home.

A former drover's inn perched above a valley in the North York Moors, The Owl is a rural pub that leans into its setting without making a fuss about it. The kitchen runs on unfussy British comfort, the kind where devilled kidneys and toad in the hole appear without irony and disappear quickly. Rooms are available if the moors convince you to stay longer, which they tend to do.

A converted barn on the Thyme estate in the Cotswolds, surrounded by the kind of lavender-edged gardens that make you feel vaguely French. The kitchen pulls heavily from its own gardens and farm, so the Modern British menu shifts with the season rather than with the season's trend. The large communal table in front of the open kitchen is the move if you've come with a group and want to feel like you're eating on a film set.

The Park Monkey Bread, a tear-and-share loaf that arrives before you've decided anything else, tells you what kind of place this is: the big, buzzy, Italian-American restaurant that Jeremy King does better than almost anyone. The room is plush without being fussy, the menu swings from lobster rolls to chicken Milanese, and the bar is worth lingering in before you sit down.

Ivy-clad stone manor beside the River Derwent, with oak furniture carved by the legendary "Mousey" Thompson and antique oils hung alongside contemporary art. The kitchen runs the full range, from ploughman's lunches and afternoon tea to a proper dinner tasting menu with wine pairings, plus Sunday roasts that draw the Peak District crowd in from the cold. A Modern British restaurant with rooms, and the surrounding hills give you a reason to stay.

A terrace overlooking the village duck pond sets the tone for this country house hotel restaurant in the North Yorkshire village of Harome. The dining room leans formal, the conservatory a little less so, and the menu runs from breakfast through afternoon tea to Sunday roasts, all built around seasonal Modern British cooking with classical roots. The kind of place where strong sourcing does the quiet convincing.

Beamed ceilings, a roaring fire in winter, a beer garden in summer, and a pork chop cooked with the kind of confidence that makes you order dessert without looking at the price. This is a proper North Yorkshire pub-restaurant, tucked between the Howardian Hills and the North York Moors, where the cooking is hearty and classical and the front-of-house warmth feels personal rather than performed. The kind of village inn that reminds you why village inns exist.

A former pub on a hillside above Chew Valley, now a proper restaurant with an orangery dining room and a cookery school attached, in case you feel inspired. The kitchen leans on a garden out back and whatever the season is doing, turning both into dishes that are colorful enough to make you feel virtuous and creative enough to keep it interesting. The midweek set menu is where regulars tend to land.

An old-school pub on the Isle of Wight that grows some of its own produce out back, which you'd notice in the cooking before anyone mentioned it. Open fires, friendly service, and a kitchen that runs a proper à la carte alongside lighter lunch options. The beef fat crumpet has become something of a talking point, and the sticky toffee pudding does nothing to discourage lingering. Been around forever, and it shows in the best possible, well, it just feels lived-in.

A cosy 18-seat restaurant tucked inside a rustic barn on a sprawling 500-acre Devon farm, The Refectory keeps its menu close to home, drawing on the estate's own Longhorn cattle, Manx Loaghtan sheep, and whatever the nearby coastline sends over. The setting does a lot of the work, with an ivy-covered manor house next door making the whole thing feel less like dinner and more like a country weekend someone else organized.

Tucked at the back of The Savoy, this seafood restaurant earns its best seats with a view over Victoria Embankment Gardens and the Thames. Getting there means a walk through the hotel's gilded Thames Foyer, which sets the tone: this is Gordon Ramsay doing grand occasion dining, with caviar at the Raw Bar, sole meunière, and a smoked haddock chowder for anyone who needs ballast after the room's chandeliers start feeling like a lot.

A former coastguard shed on Boscastle's harbour, this tiny seafood spot still has the bones of a working building and a blackboard menu that changes with whatever came off the boats that morning. The family runs a farm in the hills above town, so the fish gets genuinely local company on the plate. It's compact, pretty, and exactly what you'd hope to stumble onto after a walk along the coast path.

A large pewter-topped bar dominates the room at Rick Stein's seafood restaurant on the Padstow waterfront, and the oyster menu alone could keep you busy. The cooking moves between pared-back simplicity, market fish treated with almost aggressive restraint, and dishes pulled from Stein's travels, a Singaporean chilli crab here, an Indonesian curry there. An old-school institution that still draws the crowds Cornwall throws at it.

A terrace perched above the Jurassic Coast with views that do most of the heavy lifting before the food arrives. This bright, airy seafood restaurant sits inside a hotel in Burton Bradstock but earns its own visit, with a menu built around prime local fish and shellfish. The room carries a light maritime touch without going full nautical nightmare. On a warm day, getting a terrace table is the entire project.

Eggshell blue walls against bright orange upholstery is a bold swing for a pub that's been standing on the Norfolk coast forever, but the Peyton sisters, also behind nearby Sculthorpe Mill, pull it off. The cooking leans Mediterranean, Spain and Italy mostly, with pan-seared hake, butterbeans, chorizo, and saffron the kind of thing that earns the decor its keep. Bedrooms upstairs if the drive home starts to feel ambitious.

Ten seats, one chef, and everyone eats at the same time, which sounds like a dinner party and more or less is. This tiny Penzance seafood restaurant runs on a set menu built around Cornish catches from Newlyn Harbour, with a few ingredients grown on the chef's own smallholding. The room is intimate enough that you'll probably end up talking to the table next to you, which in this case is basically everyone.

Stone walls at the back, a chic bistro dining room at the front, and four bedrooms upstairs for anyone who wants to wake up in Crail rather than explain why they drove home. This old-school inn in the East Neuk has been around forever, and its current form suits it well. The cooking leans modern, the service reads warm without being cloying, and the menu makes choosing feel like a minor crisis in the best possible way.

A former village pub in rural Kent, now a Modern British restaurant where two brothers grow much of what lands on the plate using no-dig, low-intervention methods. The monthly tasting menu leans Nordic as much as British, shaped entirely by what the kitchen's own land is producing. In summer, the terrace looks out over the garden you're about to eat, which makes the whole farm-to-table pitch feel less like a claim and more like a view.

The leather banquettes and attentive staff signal brasserie from the moment you sit down, and the menu leans hard on Welsh beef, with steak and ale pie on one end and a Chateaubriand for two on the other. It sits inside the Parkgate Hotel and feels the part, polished without being stiff. The Michelin Guide lists it as a selected restaurant. Save room: the tarte Tatin arrives at a size that dares you to share it.

A Lancashire village pub that kept its bar stools and lost its pub menu. Chef Joe McLeod took over The Spread Eagle and now runs an à la carte alongside a monthly tasting menu, both leaning toward generous, boldly flavoured plates that have little to do with what the previous landlord was serving. The room feels like a local because it still is one, which makes the cooking land as a genuine surprise. The team are the kind of warm that you remember on the drive home.

A Victorian brick engine house beside Museum Gardens, with big windows and a terrace over the river, is where this all-day brasserie sets up shop. It's the city sibling of The Star Inn at Harome, and the menu leans into hearty Modern British cooking rooted in Yorkshire produce, with enough polish to remind you this isn't a pub, even if the spirit of one is somewhere in the room.

A roadside pub in Kent where the menu roams considerably further than the address suggests, pulling from France, Thailand, Latin America, and the Mediterranean while keeping British ingredients at the center. The room mixes vintage fixtures with something a bit more current, and the kitchen leans generous, layering flavors rather than keeping things spare. Sharing steaks are the move if you come in a group.

A rooftop terrace overlooking the beach sets the tone at this smart modern brasserie on Aldeburgh's high street, where the menu reads like a love letter to the North Sea. Dressed crab, moules marinière, and daily fish specials do most of the talking, with time-honoured technique keeping things reliable rather than fussy. Snails appear on the menu as a gentle reminder that the kitchen has range beyond the tides.

The pub dog greets you before the staff do, which sets the tone perfectly. This old village inn, tucked into the South Downs near Fittleworth, leans hard into everything a proper British pub should be: a refurbished interior that still feels worn-in, a friendly room, and traditional cooking that runs to devilled kidneys and Barnsley chop. No pretension, no foam, just hearty food done with care.

You reach it by climbing an external staircase above the Wightlink ferry terminal, which is either charmingly eccentric or a mild inconvenience depending on your luggage situation. This harbourside restaurant opens onto a broad terrace with water views that make the whole trip to Yarmouth feel justified. The classically based menu leans heavily on fish and local island produce, with enough wit to name a crab dish "crab and chips" without irony.

A Talisker dram poured over your oysters is a signature move at this seafood restaurant on the edge of Loch Harport, with the distillery sitting near enough that a tour slots neatly around a meal. The kitchen leans on whatever Skye's waters and hills are giving up, so the menu runs from fresh catch to local venison and haggis. The views across the loch do a lot of the heavy lifting before the food even arrives.

A snug pub on Henley's main square, co-owned by the butcher next door, which tells you everything you need to know about the meat on the menu. The Butcher's Board rotates with whatever's good that week, lamb chops or bavette among them, and the kitchen keeps things unfussy in a way that feels deliberate rather than lazy. Grab a table on the terrace in summer before anyone else does.

The fireplaces still smell of centuries of wood smoke, even after the old pub became a proper restaurant. It sits on Rye's cobbled East Street with a rustic, slightly bohemian room that suits the town well. The kitchen casts a wide net, moving between Cantonese and classical French in the same meal without making a fuss about it. Rye draws visitors on its own merits, and this is a natural place to land when the cobblestones start winning.

A proper neighbourhood pub in one of London's smugger postcodes, which keeps it grounded with quiz nights, Sunday lunches, and prices that don't require a moment's pause. The conservatory looks out onto a terrace and doubles as the dining room, where the menu runs from fish and chips to grilled sardines with caponata. The apple cake is the chef's version of his mother's Polish recipe, which is the kind of detail that earns a dessert its place.

A converted Victorian beer house on the high street, with exposed brick, open fireplaces, and a garden terrace that earns its keep in good weather. The menu is modern British with a classical spine, the kind of place where chicken Kiev arrives without irony and a char-grilled steak is sized for two. The wine list and the beer selection are both long enough to cause mild indecision. Surrey locals fill the banquettes like they've never considered eating anywhere else.

Wine is genuinely the organizing principle here, not a selling point: over 70 options by the glass gives you room to wander. This smart hotel restaurant in West Berkshire leans elegantly into that logic, with a carte in the main room and a seasonal tasting menu with pairings tucked into The Tasting Room next door. A nearby vineyard supplies local sparkling wine, which is a nice touch if you're the kind of person who appreciates provenance with their first pour.

Wood-panelled walls and a garden terrace inside a part-Edwardian manor make the setting feel like a prop from a very tasteful period drama. The Warwick is a country house dining room that leans into the produce rather than the pomp, with a seasonal menu that keeps its focus firmly on what's growing nearby. On a warm evening, the terrace does most of the convincing before the food even arrives.

A former rock drummer runs this family-owned restaurant tucked inside a centuries-old timbered cottage in a quiet Kent village, and the transition from stage to kitchen has stuck. Modern British cooking with the fussiness dialed down, local wines, and service that matches the food's lack of ceremony. Parmesan churros sometimes appear as a snack, which feels like the right kind of surprise. A handful of themed bedrooms upstairs if you'd rather not drive home.

A white-painted dining room on the western edge of the Highlands, looking out across the water to the Isle of Mull, which sets the tone before you've even sat down. This is a cosy, unhurried restaurant where the menu follows the seasons and leans hard into Scottish produce, the kind of place where cookery books line the shelves and the soufflé is quietly worth planning around.

The soaring ceiling gives away the building's past life as a bank, and The Langham hotel's attached pub leans into the grandeur without taking itself too seriously. The menu is quietly clever: snacks and a stovetop toastie sit alongside roast cod with mussel chowder, so you can drop in for a pint and bar bites or settle in for something more considered. Ask for the Green Room if you'd rather not eat under a vaulted ceiling with half of Marylebone.

The barn-style dining room has a vaulted ceiling and a Scandinavian lightness that sits a little unexpectedly in the West Berkshire countryside. This is a modern British restaurant where the kitchen garden feeds the menu, and big flavours do the work. The '25 Yards' gin is made from botanicals grown on site, which is a good excuse to settle into the bar before your table is called.

A market garden out back feeds the kitchen, which tells you most of what you need to know about this Hampshire countryside inn. The cooking is seasonal and unfussy, the kind where restraint does the work, and the menu runs toward game when the season allows. Rooms upstairs are named after said game birds, which is either charming or on the nose depending on your mood. A proper country pub that takes the food seriously without making you feel bad about your boots.

The open kitchen here is less a cooking station than a proscenium arch, with all six tables angled toward the chefs like a very intimate theatre. It's a tasting menu restaurant in Parkstone, run as a genuine family operation. Dish descriptions on the menu are almost aggressively brief, which does nothing to prepare you for what actually arrives, local and seasonal ingredients coaxed into something considerably more elaborate than the words let on.

The sourdough comes from Ground, the team's own bakery down the street, and it sets the tone for what follows. Thomas is a neighbourhood brasserie in Cardiff's leafy Pontcanna that has quietly grown into something a local would never stop recommending. There's a formal bar for cocktails, then a choice of a cosy downstairs room or a moodier one upstairs. The kitchen leans hard into Welsh produce, Pembrokeshire oysters and lamb among them, handled with obvious technical care.

A crofter's cottage on the edge of Loch Dunvegan that has been drawing people out to this far western corner of Skye for a very long time. Inside, low beams and exposed stone walls hang contemporary art, which is either a charming contrast or a very Skye thing to do. The kitchen leans hard on local seafood, which makes sense when the waters are right there. Overnight rooms are split-level and quietly stylish, with a residents' lounge that earns its view.

Named for Jason Atherton's three daughters, this all-day modern bistro on Pavilion Road runs from house-baked viennoiserie at breakfast through to late-night cocktails, covering a lot of ground without breaking a sweat. The cooking pulls from wherever it likes, Cornish sea bass sitting comfortably near char siu beef ribs, and the room has the kind of low-key polish that Chelsea does when it's not trying too hard.

A logo instead of a sign marks the door of this tiny Modern British dinner spot in Crouch End, where 18 seats fill up fast and everyone eats at eight. The set four-course menu changes weekly, offers no choices, and you settle the bill when you book, which concentrates the mind. From a kitchen you can practically touch, the food runs to the nourishing and unfussy end of things.

Converted farm buildings on a 70-acre wine estate in the East Sussex countryside, with large windows looking out over the vines and enough ambient noise once the room fills to make dinner feel like an event. Lunch runs as a fixed-price three-course menu; dinner shifts to sharing plates. The cooking leans on what's grown or raised nearby, and the wine list draws heavily on the estate's own low-intervention bottles.

The floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Speyside valley on one side; a whisky wall does the same on the other. This fine dining restaurant sits above The Macallan's distillery, with a menu shaped by the Roca brothers of El Celler de Can Roca, so Catalan technique turns up alongside Scottish ingredients in ways you didn't expect. The whisky pairing is, perhaps unsurprisingly, the move here.

Eero Saarinen's old US Embassy building is now a Rosewood hotel, and the bones of that mid-century modernist space give this sushi restaurant an unlikely grandeur. Masayoshi Takayama, the name behind New York's Masa, runs the show. Sit at the seven-seat counter for omakase or order from the broader Japanese menu at a table. The ingredients lean toward the luxurious end of the spectrum, which the room quietly prepares you for.

Owned by the people behind Frieze art magazine, this Mediterranean restaurant in a brutalist building near the Strand hangs Wolfgang Tillmans prints between art posters spanning four decades, so the room does most of the heavy lifting before the food arrives. The menu runs fresh and unfussy, the kind of cooking that pairs well with a terrace table and a glimpse of the Thames. Bookable by people who own tote bags, mostly.

A pub with 18th-century beams, a wood-burning stove, and a sea wall directly outside in the fishing village of Newlyn. The kitchen keeps it simple: fish and shellfish landed at the harbour next door, cooked in the kind of unfussy combinations that make sense when the ingredient is that fresh. The room is small and unpretentious, which feels about right for a place where the catch arrives practically through the back door.

A bureau stuffed with the chef's own cookery books gives away the mood at this boutique hotel restaurant on the quieter south side of Sheffield. Tom Lawson runs a set seasonal menu, Modern British in spirit, that shifts with the market and reaches back to family memory, a cauliflower cheese that nods to his grandmother sitting alongside more classical technique. The room is warm and a little funky, the service confident without being stiff.

Fried sage leaves with heather honey and chilli land on the table as snacks, and that tells you roughly where you are: a modern British restaurant in Covent Garden that takes seasonal produce seriously without taking itself too seriously. The room is designed to be noticed, the open kitchen keeps things lively, and a cocktail before dinner feels entirely encouraged. The quick lunch menu moves fast and costs little, which Drury Lane regulars have clearly figured out.

The milk loaf arrives with malt vinegar and chicken fat, and the room snaps into focus from there. Glynn Purnell's modern sharing-plates restaurant sits among the glass towers of a newer Birmingham quarter, running a fluid menu of snacks, small plates, and platters that shift with what's good. The team knows the wine list well and will steer you without making it a lesson.

The stairs take you past an artisan sourdough bakery, so you arrive at this casual Mediterranean restaurant already weakened by the smell of fresh bread. The daily menu changes with the seasons and leans into bold, rustic flavors, pulling from producers across the British Isles. A set lunch keeps things affordable. The bread arrives first, and it would be strange if it didn't.

A converted watermill with the original machinery still downstairs behind the bar, which is either atmospheric or slightly industrial depending on your mood. Upstairs, the beamed dining room goes the other direction, all dark furnishings and candlelit charm. The kitchen runs both a tasting menu and an à la carte built around seasonal produce, with a chocolate marquise that tends to linger in the memory longer than expected.

The open kitchen at the center of the room sets the tone: vegetables are the whole point here, not a concession. Vanderlyle is a vegetarian tasting menu restaurant on Mill Road, relaxed enough in its shabby-chic fit-out that you don't feel like you need a reason to be there. The chef finds real range in seasonal produce, and the wine and soft drinks pairings are taken seriously. Book ahead.

Shokupan milk bread and char siu pork belly on Hope Street, which tells you most of what you need to know about where Vetch is coming from. It's a modern restaurant that folds East Asian influences into its cooking without making a big deal of it, all housed in a room that keeps things neutral and unfussy. Dinner runs as a tasting menu; lunch and early evening offer something shorter that won't flatten your wallet.

A Parisian wine bar transplanted to Broughton Street, with bistro cooking that pairs French classics and Scottish produce with the occasional Mediterranean detour. The set lunch includes wine, which is either very civilised or a very good reason to cancel your afternoon. Downstairs sits Vivien, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar, in case one concept wasn't enough. Stuart Ralston runs the room, and the room is cosy without trying too hard about it.

A glass-enclosed brasserie tucked behind the manor house at Lucknam Park, with a terrace and marble-topped tables that make a strong case for lingering. The menu runs from pasta and risotto to wood-fired pizza and day-boat fish, which gives it a Mediterranean looseness at odds with the very English hedgerows surrounding it. It's the kind of place where the setting does half the work, and the kitchen is polite enough to do the other half.

A wood-fired oven anchors the menu at this neighbourhood Italian in a Suffolk market town that, between this place, a sister ice cream shop, and the Beviamo cocktail bar next door, is quietly cornering the market on a good evening out. Pasta, fish, and meat share the menu with a serious plant-based section, and the all-Italian wine list is priced like someone actually wants you to order a second bottle.

A Victorian coffee warehouse turned loft restaurant, with an open kitchen that puts the cooks firmly in the room with you. The team runs a set sharing menu built on seasonal British produce, foraged finds, and a low-waste philosophy that keeps pickles and ferments busy. The same crew runs a bakery and pottery studio around the corner, which explains both the sourdough and the plates it arrives on. Walk-ins can grab a counter seat for bar snacks and low-intervention wines.

The smoke hits you before you've even sat down, which is either a promise or a warning depending on your feelings about coal-fired cooking. This modern British restaurant in a pretty North Yorkshire market town runs a seasonal set menu built around whatever prime produce suits the embers that week. The chef also happens to be a potter, so the cheerful room comes lined with his own ceramics, and yes, he made the tabletops too.