England Restaurants

We’re always up for a beer at a London pub. But a family-run Irish pub that swaps fish and chips for spicy pad see ew (proving that authentic Thai is best paired with a pint)? That’s the kind of pub that makes us regulars. A spin around the bar here reveals the rich family history behind Mc & Sons: Every inch of available wall space brings you face-to-photograph with members of the McElhinney family, whose patriarch, Jack, opened its doors in the ’70s. The next generation—Ryan, Joanne, and Johnny and his wife, Lailar—now runs the show. The interior was designed and built by the brothers; Ryan’s artwork is peppered throughout the pub; and the menu was created by Lailar, inspired by her Southeast Asian heritage. Those may be the delicious, design-driven details that make that make the pub a good-looking place to eat and drink, but it’s the authentic Irish spirit and hospitality (they show rugby games at 10 a.m.) and the extensive beer list that make this unlikely Irish ale-meets-Thai kitchen a goop favorite.

The Village Pub serves excellent food every night of the week, but the Sunday lunch is otherworldly. A typical plate looks like this: thin slices of tender meat, extra-crispy roasted potatoes, airy Yorkshire puddings, and lashings of buttery vegetables all doused in a rich gravy. It’s intended to be a drawn-out, almost ceremonial affair. Everyone eats too much and somehow still finds room for apple tart, fruit crumble, or sticky toffee pudding). It’s all followed by a long ramble through the ridiculously lush Barnsley House grounds afterward. (It’s no surprise that the property was, at one time owned by a famous gardener—the late Rosemary Verey.) Food aside, the setting—low ceilings, blazing fires, sofas scattered with tartan cushions—invites you to sit, stay, and read the newspapers with a cup of coffee or perhaps a glass of port.

With flagstone walls, streams of natural light, and elegance in spades, the eighteenth-century Wild Rabbit is worth every mile it takes to get there. And it takes a lot. The Wild Rabbit is the smaller sister property to nearby Daylesford, and its pub menu—most of it sourced from Carole Bamford’s organic farm—is solidly British. By which we mean Cheddar cheese tartlets, venison paired with creamy celeriac and sharp chicory, thick-cut chips, buttery vegetables, and proper puddings. On the somewhat lighter side, we loved the smoked salmon on nutty pumpernickel and balsamic onions. The pub also operates as an inn. Spacious guest rooms are next-level comfortable (and an excellent value at roughly £150 a night) with inviting armchairs, product-laden bathrooms, and cashmere throws strewn across the spacious beds.

If you’re not staying at Thyme (though we highly suggest that you do), book in for supper at the cavernous yet cozy Ox Barn Restaurant. It’s helmed by the owner’s son (and Ballymaloe alum) Charlie Hibbert, and his brand of Cotswold cooking is just as homey, hearty, and farm-to-table as you would expect, but elevated. Hibbert doesn’t go for rustic plating and simple preparation. Instead, a leisurely lunch or dinner at the Ox Barn might involve braised beef livened up with pickled walnuts and punchy salsa verde, with a salad of speck, kohlrabi, and local apples on the side. To finish, maybe a small bowl of fig ice cream? All artfully presented, of course. Having lunch there provides an excuse to wander the grounds with daylight on your side, poke around the carefully curated shop (we love the antique champagne coupes, vintage tea sets, and linen tablecloths), and thumb through the design books at the Baa Bar. Maybe with a glass of champagne.

Ask any Los Angeleno which restaurant justifies a slow crawl across the I-10 on a weeknight and the answer is almost always Din Tai Fung. The experience runs like a finely oiled machine from start to finish, to the point that it's (blessedly) predictable and outrageously tasty. Now, with an outpost open in Covent Garden, Londoners can breathe easy. Yes, you will wait, but you’ll wait with a ticket and a tick-the-box menu for no longer than half an hour. Once you’re seated, those delectable soup dumplings will be on the table in minutes, and the whole thing will cost you less than your weekly coffee order.

London is the kind of city where residents find it perfectly reasonable to eat sashimi flown in from Tokyo’s Tsukiji market for lunch and an authentic Bangladeshi curry for dinner. Global cuisine is London cuisine—and vice versa. But when all you crave is unintimidating, wholesome grub executed well (especially before a night at the theater), Cora Pearl delivers. From the same people as Mayfair’s Kitty Fisher’s, the menu is made for rainy Sundays when only a rare roast beef and Yorkshire pudding will do. Monday through Saturday however, Cora Pearl's ham and cheese toastie with pickles, proper thick-cut chips, and old-fashioned trifle to share keep us quiet and contentedly well-fed.

Mayfair and St. James have a reputation for being stuffy and formal (which they are), but these days, some of the capital’s best food is hiding behind the neighborhoods' shiny storefronts. That’s Scully. Chef Ramuel Scully is a global citizen, with Chinese, Indian, Irish, and Balinese heritage plus a Sydney upbringing, and you can taste all that on the plate. Dinner at Scully might look something like: slow-cooked eggplant paired with preserved lemons and spoonfuls of creamy curd, chili-marinated goat tempered with cooling labneh, the best tomato salad of your life, and a wine list that stands up to the food. And the interior is that classic medley of elegant greys and an open kitchen synonymous with upscale dining from London to Los Angeles. But the jars of pickles and ferments, the sheer artistry of each plate, and the feverish excitement when you finally get to dig in push Scully to the top of our reservation list.

Peckham is a neighborhood deep in Southeast London, and it’s experiencing an urban renaissance. And Peckham Levels—a multistory creative space that addresses the working needs of the modern multihyphenate—embodies this breath of fresh air. Wildflower is the Level’s canteen, where global vegetarian food is served—the type beloved in this culturally diverse area. A typical menu includes coconut dal with fried eggs and flatbread for breakfast, locally baked sourdough, all manner of roasted and glazed vegetables, and affogatos for dessert, spiked with Frangelico, a hazelnut liqueur. As is the case with most spots in this area, the décor is simple and utilitarian, with long tables for communal dining and plenty of greenery. Wildflower’s health-driven menu is affordable, too, which means those communal tables are always heaving with a loyal, local crowd.

Tucked discreetly behind Notting Hill Gate Station, Egg Break is West London’s smallest and best-kept secret. Opened by the team from Soho House and the Hoxton hotel, Egg Break is, despite its name, not just for breakfast. In fact, we love it for lunch. Crispy fried chicken and waffles—drizzled in a generous amount of maple syrup—is our go-to, or if we’re keeping it light, the grilled halloumi with avocado and kale. Weekday mornings and early afternoons are always blessedly quiet here, which means there’s no problem taking over a table to get some work done solo.

Every Londoner who frequents Soho knows Lina Stores. The Italian deli has occupied the same spot for close to eighty years, keeping pantries stocked with obscure pastas and excellent tomato sauce. The owners have had the good sense to open a restaurant on nearby Greek Street, and we can confidently say the pasta here is better than anywhere else in the area. Sit at the bar—it’s always the best seat anyway—and watch the chefs prepare your dinner. Classic Roman puntarelle (a bitter chicory) is on the menu, doused, as it should be, in a salty anchovy dressing. Pappardelle arrives in a rich rabbit ragu. The crab pasta is spicy and citrusy, and the gnudi smothered in brown butter and sage are is so good we ordered two. Bonus: practically every dish costs less than ten pounds.