#122: I mapped my favourite London restaurants

Dear readers, open this email in your browser to read it in full—you might be looking at a truncated version.

The last time I devoted a whole newsletter to London restaurants was over 110 emails ago … in Fall 2023. Surreal, considering how often I stuff your inboxes with my food.

I’ve written about stray meals and sent ‘the best things I ate in X’ lists, but an update to the original guides—which I stand by, save maybe Gelupo, where I suspect they’ve changed my beloved Bitter Chocolate formula—is overdue.

These won’t be particularly surprising if you’ve been following me here or on Instagram, but it’s always helpful to have addresses in one place, or rather, three emails (and counting).

I’ve also compiled all three lists into a Google Map, which is linked at the end for you to save and consult as you wish. It currently has 49 addresses, and I like the idea of adding to it over time.

I won’t rehash the previous lists, which you can read here:

Without further ado, the additions to my London restaurant pantheon:

Canteen

It is easy to be sceptical of new and pricey Notting Hill restaurants, but since lunching at Canteen thrice I’ve been thoroughly charmed: by the consistently woman-staffed open kitchen; by the ravioli, which I rarely order but am glad I did; by the chocolate mousse, which is on every menu in town but rarely perfect. Theirs is generous and wonderful—the olive oil and salt actually complement the chocolate they use. Canteen is run by two ex-River Café chefs, and when someone recently told me the Hammersmith restaurant was on their bucket list, I told them to go here instead.

The Plimsoll

I mentioned their perfect burger just last week, when asked for my top three dishes in London. The Plimsoll is popular but you can stand at the bar or outside on a nice day and order food from the same menu, sans reservation. This is a good place to take people who want to eat food in a pub but don’t want pub food (i.e. roasts). A birthday that started at The Plimsoll and ended at Rowan’s would be a very good one indeed.

Crystal China

If you read my first list you’ll see that Jin Li, my old go-to for dry hot pot, now has a new name (and possibly new management). But fear not, spice-craving readers, as I raise you a new favourite.

This is part of what I wrote about Crystal China’s dry hot pot for Vittles’ hefty guide to London’s new Chinatowns:

[The dry hot pot] lords over its own double-page spread in the menu. Choose your own adventure: my non-negotiables include bean curd skin and fresh tofu, crisp, thinly-sliced, lotus root, Chinese leaf (for health) and both yu si (konjac) knots and slippery crystal flat noodles (for chew). Abandon your ego when picking a spice level (‘small spice’, or xiao la, is plenty unless you’re Sichuanese and/or a masochist). Your ingredients – cooked and then coated in a sauce of Sichuan peppercorns, bean paste and dried chilies – arrive at the table in a deeper-than-you-think bowl. Order rice as a sponge to dab your bites on as you sweatily descend into the bowl’s depths.

Ducksoup

There was a time in my life (read: my early to mid 20s) when Ducksoup was my go-to Soho restaurant for two. It was, and still is, too expensive to be a go-to restaurant. But I worked in Fitzrovia so it was a short walk away, and for better or for worse, my social life wasn’t exciting enough to warrant multiple Soho dinners a week.

I haven’t been in a long while, but still think fondly of the labneh and vegetable-forward dishes (and the ahead-of-its-time pickling obsession). I look wistfully at the cramped tables and almost inevitably cold outdoor diners when I pass. Amid the decline of natural wine/small plates concepts and the onslaught of stainless steel and art deco restaurant furnishings, there is something quite homey and pure about it, like watching an early season episode of Girls. Plus, the food is actually lovely.

Mr Dumpling

I grew up in Hong Kong, a true mall city, so sometimes I need to zone out in a Uniqlo sock aisle, or sit through a blockbuster in an aggressively air-conditioned cinema, to feel sane. An inverse touching of grass, if you will.

No number of Pizza Express Romanas, however, or Bleecker Burgers (as good as they are) will fill my post-retail stomach the same way hand-pulled noodles and dumplings will, so lately we’ve been exiting Westfield to make a bee line for Mr Dumpling, a restaurant confusingly named just ‘Dumpling’ on some delivery sites. The oil splashed noodles don’t contain a meat add-on, but the bowl doesn’t really need one. Order those and steamed dumplings to share.

VENTURE BELOW THE PAYWALL FOR: my go-to KBBQ; dosa theatre; my Bao order; an unbeatable lunch set menu; and not one but two more birthday-friendly dining rooms.