Our visit to L'Atelier was overall a great gastronomic experience, although it didn't quite meet my, admittedly sky high, expectations. We went for the set lunch, four courses with matching wines (£60). A starter of white asparagus with quail eggs and honeyed pistachio nuts was beautifully delicate. But my second starter, the pate, was not worth the £7 supplement: too rustic, too chunky, with lumps of gelatin and not enough foie gras and with a matching wine which was too flabby to cope. My main of pork belly was delicious, quite salty but flavoursome, with (is there a Michelin restaurant in the world which has resisted froth?!) a light celeriac mousseline. I finished with a william pear on a creamy pot (not unlike the bottom of a creme brulee) chosen mainly because I fancied trying the intriguing Gewurtztraminer from Mendoza and which turned out to be as sweetly drinkable as anything European (who knew?). Swift delivery of the dishes does make it feel a little bit like you're on the lunchtime conveyor belt but we were the last leave so perhaps it was justified in our case. We sat up at the bar stools looking into the kitchen: I love the theatre of it but I wonder if it's just a bit too Yo Sushi, taking away the mystery, diminishing the sense of occasion and making service, with all its reaching over the counter to get to you, feel a little too casual? Decor is a hedonistic mix of moody black and sensual red: a bit incongruous on a sunny lunchtime and no doubt better suited to the evening crowd who, given they'll be ordering from the a la carte menu, must indeed be loaded hedonists (a sneaky peak reveals many more delicious looking options but at an average £17). Service was absolutely excellent, from the refreshingly snooty-free reception and the friendly upstairs bar to our smiley, approachable waiter and the sommelier (who responded to my dislike of the second wine by coming over in person and ensuring I got to try the following wines first, good work). A lovely lunch and not bad value for a taste of 2 Michelin stars but I'd like to come back in the evening, with someone else picking up the bill.

Nice little sushi place on Kings Road for a quick pit stop, although I'm not quite sure who their regular clientele is. It's serving up takeaway style stuff: even if you eat in you're still eating out of the box, and you pay up at the tills, like any lunchtime sandwich shop, and then go and find a seat. But there's a large sit down area and the price point is well above the average for lunchtime takeaway: £12 for a box of sushi, although admittedly that was 3 bits of salmon sushi, 8 rolls and couple of bits of sashimi. The quality is surprisingly good though actually. And it is clean, light and airy. Not somewhere to make a special trip to, but definitely a nice alternative for lunch in an area dominated by either run-of-the-mill sarnie options or full on restaurants.

The Diner does what it says on the tin. Although it is tapping into the zeitgeist of London's love affair with all things beef, it isn't a pretender to the throne of Holy Burgerness. It's not claiming to have the best in town or that you should queue round the block for one or pay £20 for the privilege. This instead is a place to go when you want good old-fashioned comforting fare in a retro atmosphere at a price which won't break the bank. It's going for authenticity with an enormous menu which covers everything a true American diner would: there's a mind-boggling array of burgers, hot dogs, steak sandwiches, breakfasts with every topping, variation and side you could want. Normal fries not interesting enough? Try fat fries, wet fries (heaven knows), chilli cheese fries, or sweet potato fries (I had the latter, very tasty). Was the burger (bacon and cheese, £7) the best Evah? No, bit forgettable, but I did enjoy it, finished it off, felt full up. Job done. Decor is typical diner and they were playing reasonably loud old school pop, so it feels fairly buzzing. Service is friendly and food comes quickly enough but without you feeling rushed. On the downside there was a 15 minute wait for a table on a Friday at 7.30pm and there's no bar to sit at, so be prepared to stand in line (but Londoners are getting used to that, right?). There seems to be a branch in every “trendy” area in London (the roll call covers old stalwarts Soho, Camden and Islington as well as New Kids On The Block Shoreditch and Kensal Rise) which in itself would normally have me running for the hills, but y'know when in Camden, do as the Camdenites do. And eat here.

Thank god for quality neighbourhood restaurants like Chez Manny which continue quietly to serve up good, honest food in amenable surroundings, for when you're just too tired to queue for the latest ceviche/churrasco/tapas gastro “experience”. There's a warm welcome at this little French stalwart, especially for my canine companion who got plenty of attention (as well as a few sneaky offcuts), and from my position on the sofa I can see 3 or 4 locals chatting to staff at the bar, a group table, and a family with young children, so there's a lively hum and you can tell that the convivial, relaxed atmosphere draws in all sorts for all sorts of occasions. Neither the menu nor the cooking is as ambitious as nearby rival Gazette but the focus seems to be on serving just a few, well-executed, traditional dishes and you can't really say fairer than that. My medium/rare rump steak came rather pinky red (but I had been warned that the interpretation would be francais!), with enough fat to ensure full flavour without being too chewy. This sat atop some scrummy rustic cheesey saute potatoes, with crunchy french beans (what else?!) and carrots. My one criticism is that the dish was somewhat overseasoned and I'd have preferred to add the salt and freshly ground peppercorn myself. I couldn't resist a creme brulee which had a beautifully sweet, crisp coat but could have had a slightly stronger vanilla kick in the perfect creme-y smoothness. The wine list is a manageable length and when I ask for a by-the-glass recommendation the maitre d' suggests the house red which he says is as good as any other: what refreshing striaightforwardness (and he wasn't wrong). At £33 for 2 courses and 2 glasses, including charming service, it was good value. Perfect for a chilled Sunday night and any other time when you need (dare this Englishwoman say it) a little bit of Gallic hospitality.

I like this little bar so it breaks my heart to write this but come here for cocktails and dancing, not the food. As we were a group and our leader had already negotiated a semi-set menu with Mews which got us off the hook of the usual minimum spend thresholds, it is difficult to know what it might have been like had we been the normal restaurant-goer. But a restaurant shouldn't take your booking if they don't think they can do it justice so here goes… The starters were an odd mix: a plate of hams, some hummous, calamari, a cheeseboard and some edamame. Now, perhaps our leader had agreed to these (and don't get me wrong, I love edamame) but what is a Japanese bean doing on this Brit menu anyway?! Mains were the real issue. Having been asked how we would like our food cooked it was a bit disappointing that, when the steak sarnies were delivered to the table and we asked how they were cooked, the waitress could only say, with a gormless blank face, “vegetarian sandwich anyone?”. Hm, the answer should be a variation on “rare”, “medium” or “well-done”. Do not ask customers how it they want it cooked if you are not going to do it that way. Unsurprisingly it wasn't good and it is difficult to decide which was more dismal: the greyish, tasteless, as it turns out well-done, tepid sliver of steak, with its 2 slices of cucumber on top, or the bread between which it was served, which tasted as if it had been toasted 2 weeks ago, put in the freezer, and then reheated. It was a sorry sight too, all lonely on its plate, but perhaps the chef didn't want to embarrass himself further with a garnish or accompaniment.
On the upside, the bar is quirky and cool and it's in a great location in a cute, tucked away, courtyard near Bond Street. Cocktails are good, although service can be a little slow, and the DJ effortlessly weaves together everything from Run DMC and Rihanna to Arrested Development and Black Eyed Peas. So, a great place for an early evening drink or a night of dancing but if you want quality food look elsewhere. I would hope the next door restaurant Mews tries harder on that front.

Dinner at a restaurant in a hotel in Knightsbridge? I expect Russian hookers, Eurotrash/Arabian bling and poor food. Bar Boulod proves me wrong. It doesn't start off brilliantly: they refuse to move our booking from a 7-9.30pm slot to a 7.30-9.30pm slot (yes indeed, the end time is the same); first impression is a bit ‘New York brasserie just dragged out of the 90s’; our maitre d' insists on loading up our bar drinks onto a tray only to lead us to a table literally 2 steps away. But from there on we have a brilliant night. We have a great banquette table in the middle of the room. The menu is long, meat heavy and I want almost everything on it. We settle on a shared charcuterie board (great pates and hams), a beautiful crispy pork belly and a forgettable tapenade. Bonus points to the bread lady who kept us topped up unobtrusively. Although the menu has more appealing things on offer I plump for the Piggy Burger for the main thanks to a recommendation. There's a touch of Bodeans to the pulled pork but overall it's a gourmet piece of cooking: a dish with beautiful flavours which just happens to be in burger format. Finally we argued over who had the best dessert (not the souffle but the vanilla cake, peppermint cup and 3 choc cake were all worthy contenders). Service was impeccable with our friendly waitress on hand at just the right moments and invisible the rest of the time. We spent around £70 a head which was good value (drinks/starter­/main/dessert/macaroons/wine/service), but could easily have spent more. Be warned, the wine list abounds with bottles in the thousands (but we managed to find the one at £22.50!). I would happily return here to try the more traditional menu fayre and from the clientele (the be-suited and be-tweeded old school set) I'd guess this a favourite for a lot of people. Not a hooker in sight.

Unfortunately The Thirsty Bear feels a bit in the middle of nowhere (it's a long, unattractive walk in a pair of heels from Waterloo!) and the atmosphere inside reflects this. There are large TV screens dotted around showing a football match and despite the fact that it's a Wednesday night, the only clientele seems to be a few old men who were probably coming here before all London pubs got gentrified or trendified and a couple of students who aren't going to be spending the bucks no doubt needed to recoup the set up costs of this innovative pub. The draw is the “pull your own pint” concept and modern techno gimmickery for ordering non-hop related items. But not every table has a working computer screen and even fewer tables have a beer pump so unless you are at one of those, you're just in a slightly random pub. Service (which you need for anything except the beer, and even the beer at the non-pump tables) is very friendly. We don't really get to sample the food because the kitchen shuts at 9pm (this is London, people!) although, as we beg, the chef kindly cooks up a couple of bowls of pub-worthy chips at 5 mins past the hour. Probably a great venue for groups of beer-drinking boys on a big night out (if you reserve a pump table) but that's it I'm afraid. It's a shame as the idea is fun and, in the same way places such as Yo Sushi opened our eyes to new food service concepts, had the potential to to add a new string to London's drinking bow. The owners should be lauded for trying something different but sadly I don't think this particular incarnation of the techno pub, thanks largely to the location, is going to be the one which heralds the future of the British pub. See the Fulham Wine Rooms for a really slick, professional version of the self-service concept.

Swan At The Globe is one of the best located bars in London. It makes full use of an unimpeded view across the river with its elevated position and a wall windows the width of the waterfront, through which the impressive dome of St Pauls looms large. I'm not sure how it manages it but in winter the bar feels cosy whilst in summer it's light and airy. Decor is simple with a mix of low squishy chairs, long wooden benches and high propping stools, all lit by some slightly quirky lightbulb pendants. Food in the bar is not really the draw (its British “tapas” would more accurately be described as British finger food in my opinion) but the cocktail list has high aspirations and quality/execution competes with the latest rash of London drinkeries. I had a few too many of the Lord Chamberlain on my last visit: a drink in which the champagne is “diluted” with gin and cucumber. Ha. The atmosphere is buzzy and fun, although the bar seems to be somewhat (blissfully) undiscovered; passers-by perhaps assuming that the bar is only accessible to theatre goers and theatre goers perhaps assuming you can't get back in to The Globe (both are wrong). It's a great place to have a drink when catching a show (the actors tend to come in post performance so you can goggle at them) but above all else this is an absolutely fantastic venue for any casual drinks gatherings: no irritating minimum spend limits (although they reserve the right to make a charge if your party doesn't show, fair enough) and no fuss with booking. We just organised a group of 40 or so for Saturday night drinks and were very happy with the friendly, faff-free approach and the area reserved for us. Table service can be a little slow, although friendly, but bar service is swift enough. This is an unpretentious, unexpected little gem on London's Southbank.

Oh dear, there's no jugged hare at The Jugged Hare! Apparently the little leapers are given a breathing-for-breeding space from March to July. I came here determined to eat something unusual so, eschewing my usual mantra that Offal is Awful, I dive in with some innovative-sounding black pudding croquettes. Mmm (as in Yum, not as in Hmm), crispy little pockets of spiced meaty warmth. For the main I continue my gastro mission: when someone asks me how the faggots are, I look down at my plate and realise I have polished off both before even starting on the main show, the braised rabbit leg. Must have been delicious! The dish came with a lovely mustardy, bacon, pea sauce: all very traditional but without being stodgy. My friends had a rather boring looking steak and the pollack, which they said was tasty, but I'd recommend trusting the chef enough to try something more offbeat. Sadly the star attraction on the dessert menu, the kendal mintcake chocolate mousse, is off (as have been a number of mains and most of the wine list!) so we leave it there. I thought this area would be crying out for places like this: there are enough “fancy” restaurants in the City but when you're looking for a more casual lunch the default option has been set to Corney & Barrow for years. So why is The Jugged Hare not busier? Perhaps the Martin brothers are cannibalising their own business with their nearly-next-door Chiswell Street Dining Rooms. There's a pleasant atmosphere in The Jugged Hare, if somewhat subdued, and the decor is the epitome of modern pub (although a bit predictable). It's all clean simplicity with beautiful (no doubt reclaimed) wooden floors, a few stuffed game animals on the walls, New York-style single stools at the kitchen bar, red banquette seating for groups, and waiters in tweed. At just under £30 (light starter, main, one glass of red), it's a recession friendly alternative to St John's, with less intestine on the menu.

As I write this the morning after a few “quiet drinks” in The Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town, head a-throbbing, I understand why the food upstairs is of the type I would call “stomach lining”. You would be very wise to eat there before descending into the cavernous basement of this beautifully bonkers little bar as, once in, there is no natural light and there are no clocks; the Bermuda Time Triangle could easily gobble up your night. Despite being barely past 6 on a week night, the place is already busy but we manage to snag some bar stools and settle in, a little too easily. In fact this is a great spot to watch the expert bar staff ply their blending trade, which they do with skill and innovation. I am asked if I have ever tried a Cosmo with egg white and would I like to? The answer is No (I am suspicious of food in drinks, and likewise drinks in food, the result of overindulgence in sherry trifles in my childhood no doubt) but I appreciate being asked. The barman charmingly knocks up an off-the-cuff mocktail for our pregnant friend and the rest of us work our way through a fair number of the cocktail list, which is short enough to be unintimidating but long enough to cover the classics as well as a few originals (all around the usual London price of £8-9). I'd definitely recommend a trip here with friends or dates but be prepared for it to be busy and to wait until you are admitted through the secret entrance (I am not going to blow the cover on this, although it is probably now an open secret). And be warned, you will need paracetamol to hand in the morning.

It is a long time since I went for swanky curry so it was with some trepidation that I turned up for a girly Sunday lunch at Tamarind. Be warned if, like me, you have a pathological need to be early: there is no waiting/bar zone so you will be seated at your table where the zealous topping up of your water (5 times in 15 mins) will enhance your Billy No Mates feeling. Still, I was sitting opposite an entertaining peek-a-boo window into the kitchen and had time to contemplate the decor. It's posh Indian as done by a posh Indian: no flocked velvet wallpaper but the muted green and bronze palette with an effusion of dimmer lights (not all of which look secure in their fittings) is reassuringly familiar enough. I rather like it although it is a shame to be in a basement on such a sunny day. We opted for a set menu, which has shared mains, as a group. Something on the starter plate blew my head off (I am a chilli wimp) so can't comment on those flavours, but the mains (special mention to the aubergine salad and fish stew) were wonderfully spiced without being hot, and came on request with an enormous pot of raita as well as plenty of rice and naan. The highlight for me was a delicate ginger/fennel ice cream with a light and fragrant gulab jamun sponge. The bill was a laughable £32 each for 3 courses, plus poppadom nibbles and some charming chocolates, a shared bottle of Viognier (between 4), plenty of water and including service. Although it may not seem Michelin star-worthy, this lunch was still extraordinarily good value for Mayfair.

The Fulham Wine Rooms reminds me of a hugely sophisticated version of an Italian enoteca. I have many happy memories (albeit mostly fuzzy) of my nearest one in Italy: a tiny wine shop piled high to the ceiling with crates of whatever happened to be in that week, where locals were encouraged to buy snifters of different wine before choosing a bottle or two to take home for dinner. Snifters often became glasses which became bottles. This English version is slightly more restrained and refined but suits a London vibe perfectly. Lighting is relatively dim, decor is woodily subdued, and there are abundant barside stools from which to admire the wall of industrial looking wine fridges which dispense in 3 sizes (gulps, guzzles and government-wrath-inducing goblets?). We tried a variety of sparkling wines/champagnes so I will back another time to unleash my kid-in-a-candyshop side on those chillers. The Spanish tapas complements the idea of tasters of wine well although didn't completely blow me away. We had a plate of Iberian hams sliced off the leg behind the bar, slightly cool prawns with tasty chorizo, and mushrooms on toast (a bit oily but deliciously wild tasting with not a whiff of mass produced button 'shrooms about it). Service was polite and helpful. At £33 each (shared food plus 3 glasses) it is pricier than that enoteca of old but all in all a drinking venue worthy of West London. Can we have one in Battersea please?

The initial rash of reviews followed by deathly silence could tell its own story. A prologue of high expectations followed by a flabby plot, which fails to deliver on the initial promise and to capture the reader's ongoing attention perhaps? Being tucked away down some stairs on a side street you don't stumble across this place by chance, so it will have to rely on people seeking it out and on some repeat business. The quality of the food is not going to guarantee either. The menu is short and pedestrian with the usual steaks, seabream etc. I had a passable bavette steak with chips but I wouldn't go back for seconds. Still, this is a City wine bar, and it fulfills that purpose rather well. I can't really comment on the wine list, which I assume would be the draw for most, as we were on the champers, except to say there's no Prosecco or Cava. The subterranean location and elegantly restrained decor it does make it feel a bit secret special and cosy but I'm not sure that translates to “exclusivity” (thank goodness). It is pleasantly busy without being noisy. There are some good propping tables by the bar and apparently some good group tables dotted about up on the mezzanine floor. Service is adequate if not particularly memorable. As a venue it treads a graceful line between being refined, without being snooty, and being casual, without being sloppy. This should pull in repeat be-suited punters looking for a drinks venue where the food and locale might not impress but at least won't embarrass. The epilogue on this one could be a long time coming.

I really want to like this place because it is literally within spitting distance of mine. But annoyingly it rather falls between 2 stools: it is neither cheap enough to be a “can't be bothered to cook, let's just get a Thai from my local” option nor is it good enough to be a “let's go to the brilliant and fancy Thai which happens to be nearby” venue. The location is indeed lovely if you are seated on the terrace where there's a beautiful view over some charming boats on the river looking towards Chelsea Harbour. The restaurant itself is a bit nondescript but you shouldn't have any problems getting a table on the terrace as the restaurant does seem to be nearly always empty. Service doesn't quite live up to the usual warm Thai reputation but they take your order and bring your food so it's pretty much fine. As for the food, there's the usual Pad Thais, green curries etc and they are perfectly edible but nothing to write home about. We had the Sunday buffet today: I am always suspicious of buffet offers and this one didn't change my mind. You can eat all you like of average dishes which have been sat around for a while for £16, but frankly I'd rather have one good course for a tenner. Good for a summer drink and bite to eat but I wouldn't recommend traveling far for the food here.

The 6 course tasting menu we had here was a real Michelin star worthy gastronomic experience. The restaurant itself is rather unprepossessing inside in my opinion and has a slightly 80s feel to it but the food is bang up to date modern. Dishes tend to be small, beautifully presented, not perhaps terribly innovative combinations but well executed and flavoursome. The “bookends” of the meal stick in my mind: a light crab salad to start, a deconstructed tiramisu dessert and a smile-inducing cheese trolley which is to be seen to be believed. I feared we might have a low grade experience here because we had come on a rather cheap voucher deal (including an overnight stay at Brocket Hall in whose imposing grounds the restaurant stands) but, other than perhaps being seated in a corner slightly out of the way, the service was still impeccable. The kitchen happily substituted some of the seafood dishes with meat ones for my ocean-phobic boyfriend. The charming sommelier was delighted (or feigned delight, which is still a sign of great service!) at our enthusiasm for the Albarino, Gewurtztraminer and unusual Argentinian dessert wine which he bought as part of the matching wines tasting menu. There was none of the snootiness you might get in some similarly graded venues. Paying full price it would have been about £120 each for the 6 course menu, the 5 glasses of matched wine and the cheeseplate supplement: not bad value for this Michelin starred meal and a good place to try it outside of London.