Favourite authentic French restaurants
Published 03 July 2025

Fitzrovia is not necessarily short of smart, efficient bistros with a switched-on city ambience, but here is one that stands head and shoulders above the competition. The layout will look familiar – close-packed tables, glass dividers, an open kitchen at the back – but there is a distinctiveness to both the atmosphere and the essentially French cooking. Staff are knowledgeable and voluble in equal measure, and there is no cold feeling of being processed. The kitchen, under Stuart Andrew, is conscious of making an impression – even something as humble as soupe au pistou comes out swinging, full of tiny carrot and courgette brunoise, bites of green bean, poached fresh coco beans and super-fine noodles, with a generous dot of intense basil pistou. To follow, a fillet of sea bass on spinach with mussels in a saffron-scented sauce made with the mussel liquor is a star performance, while the game season furnishes a roast partridge with boudin blanc, quince and parsley roots. The side-order of truffade (a baconed-up dauphinoise with a breadcrumb topping) is a must. Finish with something as simple as a Neapolitan triumvirate of homemade ice creams or tarte au citron with bergamot Chantilly. An impressive wine list has been meticulously selected with an eye to the quality-price ratio; glasses start at £8, and there are some real treasures on the splash-out 'cellar list'.

'Well done, Bavette, for getting me outside the M25,' a reader cheers. Quite a way outside too, but the journey to Leeds was evidently worth it to dine at Sandy Jarvis and Clément Cousin's convivial neighbourhood bistro in the northerly suburb of Horsforth. Shelves of books on deep green walls create a smart domestic ambience, and the food does the rest.

It's a Franco-Yorkshire alliance in every sense (M Cousin hails from Anjou on the Loire), and the menu reflects that collaborative spirit. Start with pork and prune pâté en croûte with the house mustard for an inimitably Gallic appetiser experience. Starters might embrace light crab tartelette with fennel, pea shoots and saffron aïoli, before the speciality bavette makes an appearance, tricked out with French beans and frites – the kind of sturdy main course that won't let you down. A more domestic route might yield plaice with potted shrimps, rainbow chard and Jersey Royals.

Italian Candonga could well be a strawberry variety you haven't tried, appearing here in season on Basque cheesecake with yoghurt sorbet; otherwise, the dessert list is pure bistro French – perhaps St Emilion au chocolat or raspberry frangipane with matching sorbet. Wines delve into some of the less heavily trodden byways of France for Jurançon Sec, Gaillac and the Cousin family's own Anjou Cabernet Franc and Grolleau Gris.

Coffee and croissants for breakfast; croques, galettes, tartiflette and crêpes for lunch; baked Camembert, boeuf bourguignon and confit duck leg for supper – yes, this old-school bistro is Gallic to the core, a ‘real blast from the past'. Visitors also praise the moules frites, confit chicken terrine, garlicky king prawns and various classic bourgeois desserts ranging from cherry clafoutis to dark chocolate mousse with Chantilly cream. Friendly, welcoming staff add to the lively vibe, which is helped along with dinky carafes of Old World wine and bottles of Wignac ‘cidre rosé’.  There's an inviting boutique guesthouse next door, if you fancy lingering in Frome.

Newly expanded into next-door premises, where a separate bar now supplements the outdoor tables, Bistrot Vérité has long been the smartest kid on the Birkdale block. Its foundation is Franco-Lancastrian bistro cooking, with the accent on substance and generosity. Black pudding croquettes on celeriac rémoulade might set the ball rolling, ahead of a big hunk of hollandaise-napped halibut or tenderly pink collops of lamb rump on crushed peas. Finish with a honeycomb ice-cream sundae – or the poshest of trifles, made with rhubarb and blood orange. A few wines by the glass underpin a list of vinous essentials.

'With French music on the playlist, Art Nouveau posters on the wall and attentive Gallic service, you could almost imagine yourself in a small French town.' Result! Even if the menu writing hovers indeterminately between French and English, Nicolas Kleist's cooking knows where its heart is – and heart is very much the key concept. These are dishes designed to remind you why nostalgia needn't be a matter of the past, not when envelopingly rich Comté cheese soufflé or chicken liver parfait with cornichons and onion compote show the way. Main courses are pure bistro in their orientation, with crisp-skinned stone bass amid a good-natured crowd of chickpeas, samphire and pesto, or confit duck leg with dauphinoise, a little bundle of green beans neatly tied up in bacon, and a rollicking red wine sauce. One summer visitor found it a formula that very much suits Hexham ('if we were locals, I'm sure we'd be regulars'), even if things trailed off a little come dessert. Ice-cream profiteroles were fine, 'but nothing to shout about from the rooftops – which was a pity, as we were invited to have our desserts on the new roof terrace'. That said, an excellent tarte tatin (served in its pan) is definitely worth the climb. An efficient, French-led wine list has house Duboeuf at £5.50 a glass.

Are high-profile restaurants above pubs becoming a thing in London? On the first floor of the Three Compasses pub in Farringdon, this reworking of Henry Harris’s famed (and much missed) Racine in Knightsbridge revives the chef’s avowed mission to provide resolutely French food and drink after a gap of seven years. Reached via steep stairs, it’s a pleasant, light-filled room, where a lot of effort has gone into creating a mood that is warm and unpretentious. Come here if you want straight-talking Gallic brasserie classics, dishes straight out of Larousse Gastronomique. Escargots à la bourguignonne, perhaps, or Bayonne ham with celeriac rémoulade, then rabbit with mustard sauce or côte de boeuf with sauce béarnaise. All dishes are chosen from a large, densely written blackboard menu, hoisted from table to table – a convincing slice of France if it weren’t for the mainly English accents of the on-the-ball waiting staff. Our meal opened with a gutsy, rich scallop dish (one of the evening specials), served with its coral atop a purée of fennel, lemon and olive oil, ahead of a Racine classic – tête de veau with a punchy sauce ravigote (one of the best-selling items on the menu). To conclude, we enjoyed a hard-to-fault pot de crème aux griottines. The mainly French wine list is a good one, with about 14 by the glass (from £7.50), and bottles from £29.95.

Among the network of lanes in Edinburgh's New Town, north of Princes Street, this ‘wonderful oasis of calm’ looks like a piece of heritage Parisian ‘restauration’ airlifted from Montmartre. Bentwood chairs on the robust side of rickety, a black-and-white tiled floor, properly clothed tables, dark wood walls and mirrors all form the backdrop to the kind of classic French bistro cooking that visitors love to stumble upon.

Start the ball rolling with, say, ham 'hough' terrine or St Bride's smoked duck breast with a salad of orange, pickled fennel and raddichio. Main course veer towards the sturdy end of things: roast lamb rump is accompanied by ratatouille, buttery mash and tapenade, while a serving of East Coast cod comes with a rich shellfish bisque, heritage potatoes, samphire and aïoli. It's all gloriously satiating, right up to desserts such as raspberry frangipane tart with crème normande or Perthshire cherry clafoutis with woodruff ice cream.

The fixed-price 'café classics' menu is a bargain for lunch or dinner, with mains such as Borders venison cottage pie or smoked haddock fillet with wilted spinach and green sauce. Glasses in two sizes lead off a serviceable French-based wine list. ‘We arrive to smiles and leave with a warm glow,’ mused one regular.

Here we have a little haven of French provincial cooking amid the bustle of Borough Market, a neat, simply dressed bistro with candles on the tables and a menu featuring pâté en croûte, grilled ox heart with Café de Paris butter, and a daily line-up of blackboard specials. Clare Lattin and Tom Hill cut their teeth at London’s Ducksoup, then moved on to osteria Emilia in Devon, so they have serious chops when it comes to running restaurants. There’s nothing quite like the buzz in here when the place is full, with upbeat service adding to the all-round joie de vivre.

The kitchen is run by Elliot Hashtroudi, who takes due account of seasonal British produce for a series of delicious French vignettes where each plate is allowed to shine in its own right. We kicked off with a snack of smoked eel served atop curried devilled eggs, before tackling a starter of white crabmeat perfectly matched with a barattiere melon and cucumber emulsion, heritage tomatoes and a melon granita. For the main course, the richness of a superb Welsh pork schnitzel (crisp on the outside, juicy on the inside) was offset by a salad of greengage and crispy pig's ear – although a combo of octopus, pig's trotter and bacon looked equally intriguing. 

To finish, we were taken by the peach tart and the canelé with lemon curd, but finally settled for a rich dark chocolate marquise topped with Chantilly cream and beef-fat salted caramel. A dozen low-intervention wines from small French and Italian producers start at £35, with by-the-glass selections changing each day.

Booking is absolutely essential at this tiny, stereotypical French bistro, where the floor is all black and white tiles, the gingham-clothed tables are tight-packed, and the walls sport French advertising posters. That said, everyone is here for the good food and jolly atmosphere. The daily menu – only three choices per course – is chalked up on a blackboard, and when dishes are gone, they are gone. This is proper cuisine grand-mère, where a bowl of soupe à l'oignon, kept steaming hot with the traditional blanket of melted Gruyère on toast, might precede confit rabbit leg accompanied by a traditional sauce moutarde (served on very decent mash) or monkfish with saffron risotto and squid ink. There’s a typically Gallic shrug when it comes to vegetables, but portions are generous, expertly cooked and served with a certain elan by heavily accented French staff. Not everyone makes it to pudding, but if you do, you’ll find classics such as île flottante – a perfect example, not too sweet and dotted with toasted almonds. Though no one ever seems to rush, the 25 or so seats will be turned at least twice a night. The wine list (also scrawled on a blackboard) stays in France, with every bottle offered by the glass and carafe.

The younger sibling of Covino in Chester is altogether a larger, more aspirational affair. Its greatest USP is the location. Although not the first to fly high in the sky over Manchester's city centre, it keeps the urban panorama centre stage with clean, modern lines and a clever use of the rooftop space. The wrap-around interior provides every frill-free table with a pigeon’s eye view; high chairs border the long counter of the open kitchen. The connecting garden area (note the beehives) provides ample seating to satisfy the Mancunian thirst for sunshine when it appears. Climat describes itself as a 'wine-led' restaurant, a reference to their impressively stocked cellar. Burgundy leads the pack but doesn’t dominate. A Xinomavro 2018 from Macedonia had big flavours that partnered well with a robust dish of lamb leg, roasted cauliflower and kale. Unfortunately, the wine descriptions are generic; a sommelier or more informed serving staff might have helped guide the choice. The sharing-plates menu is a good spread of classic and modern, with a broadly Gallic orientation, plus retro and international references: salt fish beignets with aïoli and herb salad; prawn cocktail with avocado mousse and baby gem vol-au-vents; Tamworth pork chop with flat beans and Pommery mustard. The kitchen shows a deft hand with vegetables and salads, which are often enlivened with bitter notes – a combo of beetroot, whipped tofu, charcoal vinaigrette and mustard cress, for example, contrasted its creamy, light and earthy elements well. But there are slips, too, from an excessively oily dressing on purple sprouting broccoli to a plum tarte fine that proved unremarkable. Luckily, the quartet of well-sourced cheeses (a sheep’s milk St Helena; Roquefort-like sheep’s milk Regalis; a lactic, soft goat’s milk Elrick Log; and raw milk Baron Bigod) proved a better finale. It may be unfair to compare Climat with older sibling Covino (both are relaxed and innovative, without being gimmicky), but at inspection we found the latter offered a much more happy-making experience. 

‘The equivalent of being wrapped in a big hug,’ writes an ardent fan, adding that 'we always walk in feeling happy, and come out feeling even happier!’ This warm-hearted spot has been flying the flag for ‘delicious feel-good’ bistro food since Dan Fancett opened the place in 2021, and it scores in departments: the menu is stuffed with extremely well-balanced and superbly executed dishes, while the superb front of house team exude good cheer and do a consistently great job.

A set menu is tweaked daily and served in its simplest form at lunch (two choices per course), with a few more options for dinner. It fits the bistro vibe, though the repertoire strays deliciously beyond predictability – from a bowl of local asparagus soup with smoked chalk stream trout to hand-rolled cavatelli with Parmesan emulsion, spring vegetables and basil pistou. In the evening, the kitchen ups its ambition a notch or two, so you might find ceviche of sea bream with chilli and blood orange followed by calf’s liver with pancetta or a thoroughly Gallic combo of French guinea fowl breast with young leeks, white asparagus (French, of course) and a morel/vin jaune sauce. Finish perhaps with dark chocolate and hazelnut tart with pistachio ice cream – we’re in bistro territory, remember – or a sublime panna cotta with ginger and rhubarb.

Restaurant manager Theo Armyras is an engaging enthusiast of all things drinkable and will steer you towards such delicious offerings as a Spanish rosado from Rioja’s family-owned Bodegas Perica (at £11.50 a glass). Selections by the 500ml carafe keep proceedings true to bistro-dom, although there's always plenty to explore – from minerally Chablis Premier Cru, Thomas Labille ‘Montmains’ 2020 to big hitters from Bordeaux and the Rhône Valley.

Josephine is that rare combination, a classic-looking French bistro that serves its neighbourhood well but is also worth travelling across town for. The fact that the driving force behind the operation is chef Claude Bosi makes it easy to see why news of its repute has spread far and wide – the dining room is regularly packed to capacity, humming with noise and activity.

The menu is classic French through and through, with a focus on bistro classics and regional Lyonnaise specialities from Bosi’s home town. Though the food stays in familiar territory rather than going adventuring, everything is produced with great assurance – as one might expect, given Bosi's elevated reputation. Indeed, one sign of a good kitchen is what it can do with humble ingredients. Consider, for example, the soupe à l’oignon, widely copied although we’ve yet to eat one that comes even close to this version.

Many staples are here (terrine, filet de boeuf au poivre, lapin à la moutarde, gratin dauphinois) – dishes that people really enjoy eating. And judging by the elegant simplicity of leeks vinaigrette, or skate wing in a brown butter and caper sauce, or even a light, puffy vol-au-vent filled with chicken and morel sauce, there are never too many tastes on the plate, either. Like the cheeseboard, desserts are resolutely Gallic – think oeuf à la neige, prâline rose, and tarte au citron meringue. The good value of the daily plat du jour and the short-choice set menu offered at lunch and dinner add to Josephine's allure.

With Lucy Bosi overseeing front of house alongside general manager Will Smith (the ex-Arbutus/Wild Honey frontman lured back from Scotland), it's clear that all aspects of running a restaurant – buying ingredients, cooking, ambience – have been brought together without fuss or ostentation. House wines are available bouchon-style (you only pay for what you have drunk), and the full list is an oenophile's tour of the Rhône Valley.

Opened in 1927 as L’Escargot Bienvenue (complete with a snail farm in the basement), this bastion of old Soho has moved gently with the times while retaining its ageless sense of style – thanks in part to its current patron Brian Clivaz. A substantial refit in 2023 enhanced the famously warm, softly lit interiors, numerous salons and private spaces, and the veritable gallery of artwork lining the walls.

‘Slow and sure’ is the restaurant’s motto, and the kitchen continues to deliver a comforting rendition of 'la cuisine bourgeoise' – which means lobster salad, navarin of lamb, grilled halibut with hollandaise, confit duck with Puy lentils, crème brûlée and chocolate soufflé. The titular gastropods are shipped up from Herefordshire these days, although their treatment is as emphatically traditional as ever – slathered with parsley and garlic or, perhaps, flambéed with Pernod. Occasionally the menu strays off-piste for the likes of crab linguine with leeks and tarragon or asparagus and pea risotto, but it's back to France for cheeses and madeleines.

Fixed-price lunches and pre-theatre deals are good value for the postcode, afternoon tea is a pleasing surprise, and ‘flavoursome’ Sunday lunches have delivered ‘exceptional quality’ – from ‘rôti de côte de boeuf à l‘anglaise’ to tarte au citron. Wines are patriotically Gallic, of course, with big-ticket bottles for those who want to splurge but also some more affordable regional options for everyday drinking.

Quite a caricature of a French bistro, complete with bentwood chairs, gingham tablecloths and workaday glassware, this neighbourhood favourite ensures that diners’ expectations are focused mistily across the Channel even before they sit down. The menu also delivers, from soupe de poissons to steak frites, but stay with the theme to get the best from it: salty samphire with roasted garlic prawns or crispy confit duck with soft-textured Puy lentils, say. The house dessert – a 'petit citron' posset – is worth holding out for, and readers have raved about the warm pot au chocolat. Drink French wines by the carafe and stick to the weekly set menu (or the daily deals) to keep things reasonably affordable. 

A genuine restaurant du quartier, if ever there was, this Crouch End spot is run by the titular duo of Robert Reid at the stoves and Jean-Christophe Slowik (JC, to the army of regulars) out front. If only one of them is French, he is at least bubbling over with enough unabashed Gallic bonhomie for two. Battleship-grey panelling, undressed tables and a trio of blackboards busily covered in numerous chalk-scribbled specials form a backdrop to Reid's assured bourgeois cooking.

You might easily guess what's on the menu, sight unseen (soupe à l'oignon gratinée, garlic-buttered escargots, Bayonne ham with celeriac rémoulade for starters), although you might not anticipate the panache with which the dishes are realised – or the uncommon quality of the raw materials. Moving on, mains might bring entrecôte or ribeye steaks with béarnaise sauce and piles of frites or smoked haddock in mustard sauce topped with a poached egg.

The non-meat alternative of, say, artichokes with ratatouille and chickpeas in cumin-scented roast tomato sauce shows more consideration for veggies than you might find in many a traditional French bistro. Finish with rum baba and apricot compôte or tarte fine aux pommes. A French wine list covers all bases, with glasses from £7.95, plus still or sparkling Kir to start.

Carefully sourced, self-assured French cooking in a relaxed atmosphere is the enticing deal at Freddy Bird’s good-looking Westbury Park brasserie. The busy, welcoming dining room with its petrol-blue banquettes, marble tables, myriad objets d’art and bespoke hand-thrown crockery was designed by Freddy’s wife Nessa, who also oversees a bevy of delightful staff.

Service is efficient and friendly, and the long menu has something for all occasions, be it a casual bar snack of fresh goat’s cheese with wild oregano and olive oil or a special-occasion dinner for two of wood-grilled côte de boeuf with frites and béarnaise sauce. Bird also shows of his expertise in other departments, be it a ‘canoe’ of roast bone marrow with beef tartare and sourdough toast, chicken suprême accompanied by baby gem, asparagus, peas and sweet herbs or luxurious turbot with pink fir potatoes and hollandaise – although an ‘exceptional’ serving of plaice with capers and spinach was the highlight for one visitor.

Desserts such as a wide terracotta dish of crème brûlée are big enough to share or there are perfectly kept French cheeses from La Fromagerie. Readers are also quick to praise the impressive wine list, which offers good-value selections from France and beyond, plus plentiful options by the glass and some helpful pairings for the menu’s staple dishes.

Frederic ('Fred') Berkmiller’s classic French bistro has spread a blanket of joy across Edinburgh since it opened in 2009. It’s fair to say that the place buzzes and the atmosphere is 'unbeatable'. And it's no wonder that fans are quickly seduced by the unmistakable Gallic vibe: 'You could easily be sat in a wee French restaurant in Paris,' noted one reporter who felt fully transported to another world.

The conviviality extends to the assured combination of French cooking with Scottish raw materials, including hand-dived Orkney scallops and venison as well as home-grown vegetables and herbs from Berkmiller’s four-acre plot at Monkton Gardens. The menu itself is built around established standards, which brings people back because they know the quality won’t waver from one visit to the next. 'I had the côte de boeuf again – one of my favourite dishes anywhere. Beautifully served medium-rare with dauphinoise, salad, roasted onion, garlic and peppercorn sauce.' Fish soup with rouille, steak tartare, escargots in garlic butter and beef bourguignon are all present and correct, too.

For dessert there could be a not-to-be-missed crème brûlée as well as griottines in kirsch and îles flottantes. Expect ‘great service from knowledgeable staff', a wine bar in the basement for post-prandial relaxation, and a thoroughly commendable list of French wines with an excellent choice by the glass.

Inspired by the French 'grand brasserie', and running from breakfast to dinner, Maison François is light and spacious, with an impressive double-height ceiling, an open kitchen at one end and Frank’s (a moodily lit wine bar) in the basement. The vibe is smart-casual with comfortable seats, reasonably spaced tables and unfailingly warm service (judging by feedback we've received). Indeed, one contributor who took advantage of a special offer of ‘very good’ moules frites for £15 had this to say: 'we were eating the cheapest meal on the menu, but were treated as though we had ordered the most expensive.'

The carte is a dream line-up of Gallic classics (hake with sauce bouillabaisse, entrecôte de boeuf au poivre), and everything we ate was spot-on at our most recent visit. Pâte en croûte, Comté gougères and jambon noir de Bigorre with celeriac rémoulade proved to be just perfect, while côte de veau arrived precisely cooked with the fat beautifully caramelised. Then, as a finale, the desserts appeared. Can anyone resist a trolley laden with macarons, tarte aux pommes, Paris-Brest, mousse au chocolat and much more?

Prices aren't greedy considering the well-heeled location (a short walk from Fortnum & Mason), while the lengthy wine list genuinely offers something for everyone, with France as the main contender but back-up from the rest of Europe and the New World.

Paul Merrony made his name cooking accessible French brasserie food at the much missed Giaconda Dining Room in Covent Garden's Demark Street. With partner Tracey Petersen, he decamped to Dorset and set about turning a failed pub into a bistro with rooms, developing the place on a shoestring. Indeed, there’s a homespun honesty about the resulting dining room with its plain light-wood tables, red napkins, dark-green walls and old-fashioned sideboards.

Readers continue to applaud Merrony’s dedication to seasonal produce and, above all, the outstanding value for money: you can get three courses for under £30 if you steer clear of the supplements. The menu, scribbled on a blackboard, is a modest line-up of classic French bistro staples, all ‘well-prepared, lusciously flavoured and beautifully presented,’ according to one reporter who enjoyed a bowl of authentically chilled vichyssoise followed by ‘excellent’ cod provençal. Otherwise, expect anything from duck liver mousse or ratatouille with goat's cheese crotin to steak tartare, gigot of lamb or roast guinea fowl for two to share.

There’s always a daily fish dish and various seasonal specials too, while desserts bring forth a hotchpotch of Gallic classics – iced apricot mousse, fruit charlotte, Mont Blanc, rum baba, Agen prunes. Glasses of kir and Ricard are there for the taking if you require a sharpener, and the carefully curated 60-bin wine list kicks off with an easy-drinking ‘Le Lesc’, Côtes de Gascogne. 

Otto Tepasse is not one to hide his light under a bushel, and why would he? His Gray's Inn Road spot is justly celebrated as a redoubt of French cuisine à l'ancienne, from the black-and-white floor and mint-green walls to the publicity shots of Marilyn Monroe (mais bien sûr), and a culinary approach that reaches far back into nostalgic recall. Order in advance and you can relive the gastronomic heyday of canard à la presse, homard à la presse and Anjou pigeon à la presse (though not all at once to the same table). Even those who haven't thought ahead can be regaled with steak tartare assembled before their very eyes, or calf's brain pané in grenobloise, or coquilles St-Jacques in their shells with beurre blanc. The tournedos Rossini is by no means the only dish to feature foie gras, which is more or less everywhere, while a romantic dîner à deux might turn on a mighty gigot of milk-fed Pyrenean lamb in a glossy jus alive with rosemary and thyme. Boozed-up desserts could easily lead you astray: the baba and pineapple flamed with Jamaica rum; the flaming crêpes Suzette; the Grand Marnier soufflé. Finish with a shot of aged Calvados, but only after testing the bank balance with one of those classic French wines, which ascend gracefully into the four-figure stratosphere.

A little slice of French bonhomie in north Oxford, Pompette is not only a godsend for Summertown locals, but also draws in diners who are prepared to undertake a long trip to sample its wares. With its walls emblazoned with artwork, a gorgeous summertime terrace and professional but personable staff, no wonder it is reckoned to be ‘a real gem’. And that’s before we get to the food. Chef/co-owner Pascal Wiedemann spent 14 years shaking the pans in big-name London kitchens (from Racine and Terroirs to Six Portland Road), before bringing his vision of bourgeois French cuisine to the city of dreaming spires. 

His menu is entrenched in the classics (with the odd European detour) and everything is crafted with ‘care, passion and precision’. Lyonnaise ‘cervelle de canut’ cheese dip, soupe de poissons, chalk stream trout with horseradish beurre blanc and onglet steaks share the billing with houmous, sumac and flatbread, cavatelli with datterini tomatoes and pecorino or charred cauliflower with pops of pomegranate and pistachio. French farmhouse cheeses, île flottante, Basque cheesecake and canelés de Bordeaux with salted rum caramel (Friday and Saturday nights only) round off a simple but satisfying offer. 

Alternatively, drop by for authentic French saucisse frites on Tuesday, poulet frites on Wednesday or steak frites on Thursday night, if you prefer; they even do a proper petit-déjeuner from 10am as well as a regular apero hour (5-6pm, Tue-Sat). Pompette is the charming French word for tipsy, so we do need to mention the libations: Ricard, Lillet Blanc, Picon Bière and Normandy cider all get a look-in alongside a list of patriotically French wines – including a big selection from Alsace (the owner’s homeland).

It's hard to spot the location and the muted signage of this small restaurant in a parade of shops on the edge of a fast-moving, heavy-duty arterial dual carriageway. Note that parking is limited, but a nearby Metro stop encourages alternative access. A few modern posters and prints, a large mirror, some pot plants and a lively buzz give Stretford Canteen a homely if rather utilitarian feel. A blackboard lists daily specials but the actual menu gives no indication of the size of the plates – price should be your guide. For one regular, it's a 'shining light in a small suburb that needs and deserves a reliable, high-quality restaurant.'

While sharing is the name of the game, the overall style is traditional French bistro. They’ve rightly kept popular dishes such as deep-fried panisse fingers with tarragon mayo, and a concern for provenance shows in ingredients such as Isle of Wight tomatoes or Curing Rebels saucisson. Otherwise, the main menu roams from charred baby gem with beurre noisette and capers or oyster mushrooms with vermouth, tarragon and potato pavé to pork shoulder with fennel choucroute and mustard or pan-fried trout with chickpeas and rouille. There's also a generous serving of ex-dairy beef sirloin au poivre, cooked medium-rare, with plenty of savoury depth and texture.

Those wanting something quick during the day can also drop by for buckwheat galettes, French toast, croques and bowls of French onion soup. A short wine list shines the spotlight on French regional producers, with occasional forays into Germany and Spain. And, finally, praise is due to the little publicised fact they have fed a local homeless man for years – happily now off the streets. 

The 10 Cases is so named because owners Will Palmer and Ian Campbell buy just 10 cases of each listed wine on their 23-bin list – all offered by the glass, carafe and bottle (from around £33) – then don’t stock it again when it's all sold. However, this is no spot for cult producer fanciers chasing the rarest Burgundy or for those who just want to glug cheap plonk; it's somewhere for those who want to drink well for not too much money and embrace quality wines slightly outside the norm – we sampled a bottle of 2014 Morgon Les Charmes from Château Grange Cochard, a richer, modern style of Beaujolais. All in all, it’s a crowd puller. The place is also billed as a neighbourhood Bistrot à Vin, with a menu of simple, affordable French classics – perhaps smoked duck breast with rémoulade and candied walnuts or steak frites with peppercorn sauce – all served against a pitch-perfect backdrop of small tables, warm, low lighting and white walls covered with blackboards listing wine and food. We kicked off with a trio of small plates: blistered Padrón peppers hot from the fryer and dusted in rosemary salt; cod cheeks in a light, crisp tempura-style batter sprinkled with chilli and spring onion and served with a sweet, smoky, spicy vadouvan mayo; and a bowl of bacon-rich, creamy rillettes topped with cornichons. Next up, a whole roasted pork T-bone chop (for two to share). This was carved into slices alongside the bone and served with a wonderfully intense meat sauce, light and creamy celeriac purée and two halves of roasted apple – plus two huge slabs of confit-style potatoes layered with roasted onions on the side. To finish? Panna cotta with pistachios, and treacle tart with crème fraîche. Next door is the Cave à Vin wine bar, which is for walk-ins only.

For generations of thespians, journos and assorted bohemians, ‘The French’ has been a talisman of old Soho – a pub with its own code (no mobile phones, no music, beer in half-pint glasses). Yet this brilliant boozing relic also sports a cosily traditional upstairs dining room with proper culinary aspirations. The kitchen has played host to a clutch of big-name chefs in the past, but current incumbent Neil Borthwick seems set for a long run – thanks to his stout-hearted, no-nonsense approach to rustic provincial French cooking. He also allows British ingredients to do a merry jig with their Gallic counterparts, resulting in dishes that defiantly avoid clever-clever frills and furbelows. Instead, visitors can expect a line-up of classics bursting with gutsy up-front flavours and bags of largesse: Archill oysters with mignonette sauce; chargrilled ox tongue with rémoulade sauce; calf’s brains doused with brown butter, capers and parsley; ink-braised cuttlefish with coco beans. Order steak and you will get a mighty rump or ribeye plus French fries, watercress, shallot salad and béarnaise sauce. For afters, indulge in the French-accented cheeseboard, a plate of madeleines or something sweet such as Madagascan chocolate mousse with crème fraîche. Drink French cidre or pick from the pub’s all-Gallic wine list (with plenty by the glass).

A restaurant that can tempt people out in the grim chill of February ('we have been coming here for 20 years, and it's always amazing') certainly has something going for it, and our wires are reliably abuzz with the French Table's satisfied customers. Nor is this simply heritage bistro cooking; it also has a vigorous contemporary style that people find convincing. Having sampled charred Cornish mackerel with salt-baked beetroot, beef fillet with glazed ox cheek, and a dessert of dark chocolate fondant, one reader reckoned that the kitchen never missed a beat. Eric Guignard remains in pole position but with Richard Giles now installed as head chef – a promotion from within the team to ensure continuity as well as the expected flair. In the evenings especially, the menus get eye-catchingly creative. Begin with a mi-cuit of chalk stream trout with avocado crème fraîche gâteau and seaweed jelly, prior to an assiette of Cornish lamb with minted courgette purée, Caesar-dressed braised baby gem and Parmesan polenta. Dazzling flavour arrays ensure the desserts don't just slip into cliché: vanilla cheesecake comes with pear compôte, green apple gel, almond crémeux, and a green apple and star-anise sorbet. Inventive cocktails and mocktails kick things off with a bang, while wines fan out from the French regions, confidently hurtling off to Crete, Catalonia and deepest Kent. Small glasses start at £5.50.