Andrew Edmunds

Deep in the heart of Soho, Andrew Edmunds (named for the guiding light who sadly passed away in 2022) has been a bulwark of Franco-Mediterranean bistro dining in the gloriously unreconstructed style for what feels like forever. It's a mode of cooking for which there will be a ready audience among the British, for as long as one person can still earn a living by cooking for another. Hand-scrawled menus (remember to bring your lorgnette) and plastic signs prevent any part of the proceedings from veering towards inappropriate glossiness, and the food is dependable to the last cornichon. To start, pork and venison terrine with pickled red cabbage and toast might vie with seasonal asparagus in sauce gribiche, or a more obviously Italianate burrata with blood-orange and toasted almonds. After that, fish is a particular strength for main course, perhaps a chunk of pearlescent hake with spinach and fennel in salsa verde, while meat might offer the fortifying likes of roast rabbit leg on lentils with carrots and picked walnuts. Indulge yourself at dessert with chocolate pavé, for which they've boozed up some raisins, or there could be meringue with poached loquats and Chantilly. The wine list has long been one of the glories of the place, with battalions of superstars passing in review like nations at an Olympic marchpast. Mark-ups are certainly not what newcomers will expect in central London, which only adds to the temptation to splash out. There are a few aperitif cocktails of the old school, although our request for a classic Martini stumped them.