My London Top 10
Reflecting on a year of eating my way across a new city
I’ve travelled to London more times in the last six months than I’ve ever travelled anywhere before in my life. It’s been a really effective method for getting over my fear of flying, and a really ineffective method for saving money.
Every trip has offered me a new taste of the city—a perfectly sunny and blue week in August, a brief visit in the midst of fall, an early winter weekend, all within a few months of each other, like speed-dating the UK seasons.
It's been thrilling to get to know London in such a short time period, with each visit bringing a better understanding of the many, many neighborhoods in the sprawling city, their quirks, and which I have a particular affinity for. It’s also not bad being young and in love in a new city with someone you’ll happily cross the Atlantic for.
I can easily, without question, point to my favorite, most memorable meals of the year. They were, by and large, in the UK. London somehow feels more removed from the trends that make New York dining feel tired, further away from the gimmicks, obscene pricing, and lines down the block for a sandwich. Instead, the restaurants that need to be booked 90 days in advance feel well worth the effort. The dimly lit wine bars don’t feel pretentious. There are no fast-casual trends, no stuffed bagels or lines for frozen yogurt. They’re still obsessed with Blank Street here—like truly obsessed. I think that is an effective indicator of London being just slightly behind on the trend cycles. And maybe it is the allure of a new city, but everything feels a bit more interesting here. I’m not, say, suddenly excited about brunch, but I am still finding magic in Michelin starred restaurants and tiny digs with a long wine list, despite their prevalence in New York. In London, they feel a bit more novel.
There are just too many New York and end-of-year dining reports out already. Let’s get a bit of London in the mix, yeah?
Working from bottom to top, my ten London favorites from this year…
The entrance to Ducksoup is concealed by a curtain separating the restaurant from the busy streets of Soho. Mostly bar seating, with beautiful light fixtures and a handwritten wine list displayed on the wall, the space feels reminiscent of the original Gem Wine space. Tiny and dark, with a candlelit window seat we found ourselves cozied into on a Saturday night, the space was the perfect little refuge while London was alight with holiday shoppers traversing Dean Street. Records were being changed out by servers as soon as the restaurant got quiet, handwritten menus sat in slippery lamination, and glasses were rarely empty.
The food was good—beautifully fried parsnips atop a creamy fromage blanc with a drizzle of honey, fried potatoes with aioli, crisped brussel sprouts with hazelnuts and blue cheese, big meaty olives that glistened on the table, and a ginger cake with a butterscotch sauce and creme fraiche topping. While I loved the bites, I was there for the Jean Yves-Peron by the glass. More importantly, I was there for a familiar ambience that felt brand new.
Not a single bad thing can be said about somewhere with ￡5 negronis and fresh pasta. Brutto is an ideal Italian restaurant. Everything you need to know is in their Instagram bio “Noisy. Not fancy. Don’t expect too much.” Rogue music will be coming in from all sides while you crush far too inexpensive drinks. You’ll span about 4 decades in just your line of sight. If this was in Cobble Hill, they would never see the end of me. AND, after staring at it at every bookstore I passed, my boyfriend got me their beautiful exposed spine bound cookbook so that I can attempt their pappardelle.
I learned that I loved Guinness about three years ago. I didn’t know how much I really loved it until I slung back a pint at lunch at The Devonshire. The pub’s crowds are spilling out onto the streets at any hour of any day, the restaurant tables are fully booked, and you’ll have to shoulder your way into the door. It is well worth it. If you aren’t sold on the pint…wooooo the pint! Then perhaps you’ll be sold on the fresh parker house rolls or the potatoes dipped in bearnaise—one of my more memorable bites of the year. Maybe the heart-stopping sticky toffee pudding will get you. I’ll admit, it is a tough menu for someone who isn’t sold on regularly consuming red meat, but it incredible, restrictions aside.
I knew I loved Max Rocha’s food long before I tasted it. I was lucky to work alongside the publication of his beautiful cookbook, and eat his famed Guinness bread at a launch party at Colbo last year. After months of trying to get Hackney onto the itinerary when visiting, we finally made it over at the very end of a Sunday lunch service. The unassuming building gave way to a silver-clad and white-walled dining room. Tables adorned in white ceramic, shelves topped with wine bottles, chefs behind a chrome counter in their whites, and the warmest staff greeting every guest as if they were an old friend.
I completely scored, taking home a full loaf of guinness bread, though that was just the cherry on top after a quince and chicory salad, their sage and anchovy fritti, a tower of panisse, a beautiful piece of pork, and a trifecta of stellar desserts. I’d long admired the bread and butter pudding, rolled in pearls of sugar, served over an ivory-cream cold custard, and was elated to finally try the house made ice cream churned with guinness bread. The chocolate mousse was spectacular, unbelievably dark and decadent with enormous salt crystals, a drizzle of savory olive oil, and a lovely dollop of creme fraiche. A delightful, cozy, and rich late afternoon meal. We followed with a few incredible drinks at Satan’s Whiskers (thank you, Ollie) where Ed had a floradora he loved so much the bartender wrote the recipe out for him (raspberries, ginger syrup, simple syrup, gin, a bit of ginger ale). 10000/10 service, and empty at 5pm on a Sunday. Perfect evening.
Core was one of the very first UK restaurants I knew of, well-deserved as it earned chef Clare Smyth three Michelin stars nearly 5 years ago and made her the first UK female chef with the honor. I sort of imagined a meal at Core would be at least a decade out for me, being that the meals start out at ￡255/person, but when the three-Michelin star team opened up a neighborhood bistro just three weeks ago, the door opened up for me to finally try her food.
At dinner, we sat in velvet chairs around big, round tables. Each napkin was folded into brass napkin rings—a different leaf portrayed on each, the signature Core petals were strung along the white walls of the restaurant, embossed onto the paint as just a subtle touch of elegance. A fridge full of fruits, vegetables, caviar, and meats was so beautifully saturated the produce inside looked like they very well might be pixels. The wine menu was a full leather-bound book, alongside an extensive a-la-carte offering, supplemented by a gold frame placed on each table showcasing 8 different potato preparations to choose as a side dish. Chef Smyth grew up on a potato farm, we learned, so an ode to the vegetable was in order. Most importantly, it was exceptional to see their team in action, a well-oiled machine that brought the feeling of fine dining to a Sunday night dinner.
My skewer of smoky grilled olives with little squares of fatty eel sandwiched between were a perfect salty, savory bite. Leeks vinaigrette were soft and balanced, a lobster bisque was unbelievably decadent, served with a lobster thermidor toast that our table of four was fighting tooth and nail for. The vegetable sides were treated with the utmost care, each piece of fish and meat perfectly attended to, and the potatoes seasoned just right and served piping hot. My fish and chips, filled with a lobster mousse and served with sweet, minty peas, was accompanied by yet another framed menu and a silver tray of vinegars, each in a whimsical glass bottle hosting more vinegars than I knew existed. Our dessert was equally exceptional, warm madeleines coated in sugar arrived in a small glass box, and a lemon tart was served with waves of lightly toasted meringue on top. A sherry trifle was hard to turn down, but we had to make some sacrifices after 200 potatoes.
Perhaps a bit more buttoned up than I am used to, but a special meal top to bottom.
Every day I’m in London I ask Ed if we can go to Mountain. We’ve joked after about six beers that a Michelin meal is just what we need, and worth the trip into Soho. I worry that my first meal at Mountain was so perfect, and so memorable, it’ll never live up to itself, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
A sunny early dinner in August perched at the ground floor counter was magic. We gushed over fresh, salty bread from the wood-fired oven and freaked out as we ate dressed oysters and simple, fresh green leaves. Mountain captures a coolness that anyone can take part in. There are no showy plates or extravagant dishes. Everything is confident in its simple plating, self-assured in its perceived minimalism. The service is lovely, the drinks are divine, the menu is full of unexpected pairings that are so good they seem like they should be obvious. Plus, their website rocks. This is a restaurant I would like to see on substack.
Bouchon Racine’s presence in London can only be compared to that of Le Veau d’Or’s in New York. And even that isn’t quite right. The talk of the town in London is a dining room sitting above a centuries-old pub. The space is very small (a very good reason for difficult booking) but is homey and warm, with white tablecloths, framed posters covering the walls, and festive paper chains strung across the ceiling.
The menu is classic French, displayed on chalkboards divvied up so each table can get a semi-clear view. Well-versed waiters will patiently walk you through dishes and guide you along which potatoes you should order. We went with escargot saturated in a not-too-garlicky, bright green butter with an ideally crusty baguette. A chicken liver pate was served with cornichons and even more baguette. We had a beautiful endive and blue cheese salad, a tender piece of rabbit wrapped in bacon and served in a beautiful, sharp and creamy mustard sauce, with thin al dente green beans. Fries were an unnecessary but delightful addition, as was the oversized portion of creamed spinach wrapped around melting away pieces of foie gras.
Bouchon Racine is understated and amazing. Not cool or posh—just fantastic, classic French food. Might run you about the same as a train ticket from London to Paris, though.
We followed our very rich meal at Bouchon Racine by scurrying over to St. John and sitting at the bar with a pear cobbler—a Fall rendition of the dessert we have been talking about since we first ate its peach counterpart in August. And, once again, it was spectacular. I love St. John and I will always love St. John. I love that it always smells like the fresh madeleine coming out of the oven like clockwork. I love the lively dining room tables and the mellow bar outside. I love that you’re never all that far away from their welsh rarebit, regardless of where you’re staying in London.
I’d spend every afternoon here, I think. I’d happily eat white fish with jammy onions, soft potatoes, and creamy aioli over and over again. Preceded by a plate of radishes. Followed by a lemon tart. In a dining room that somehow always seems sunny, even in a notoriously grey city. Nothing could be better. It’s pure magic and a simple menu at its absolute best.
Not sure I need to drag on about The River Cafe more than I did a couple of weeks ago, but this meal was spectacular. I loved every second of it, and while I may have recency bias, I feel confident in proclaiming this my best meal of 2025. It’s a restaurant where you just feel lucky to be sitting there, savoring every bite. What a way to end the year, and what a feeling to chase in the next.
Any top dining memories from this year, I want to hear about!!!
I lived in London for three years - absolutely adore Duck Soup!!
Just came back from very delicious lunch at Cafe Deco (I do try to go most weeks!) and cafe Cecilia is happily booked for next week. Next time you’re in London I’d recommend Tatar Bunar, Ukrainian food from the Bessarabia region (west of Odesa) - I often go to Alex’s restaurants in Ukraine and they are all excellent, this one brings it to the West very successfully!