No alcohol doesn't mean no fun: 8 of the best restaurants to enjoy soft drinks Published 11 April 2025
With sober-curiousness on the rise and more diners opting to forego alcohol when eating out, restaurants are upping their soft drinks game, from bespoke pairings to meticulous mocktails. Here are some of our favourite places whose soft drinks and pairings might surprise.
Launched in 2018, the Manchester outpost of Dishoom is so firmly embedded in the Spinningfields district that it's hard to imagine how the area ever did without it. Inspired by the lively bustle of old Irani Bombay, it's just the … Read more
Launched in 2018, the Manchester outpost of Dishoom is so firmly embedded in the Spinningfields district that it's hard to imagine how the area ever did without it. Inspired by the lively bustle of old Irani Bombay, it's just the place for mixing, matching and sharing hearty Indian café cooking. Although some of the turmeric-coloured booth seating is held back for reservations, it's mostly a come-as-you-are operation, starting with breakfasts for bodybuilders – akuri is three spiced and loosely scrambled eggs with grilled tomato and fat homemade pau buns.
The all-day menu offers up everything from green chilli cheese toast with garlic to okra fries and filo lamb samosas for ravenous snackers, as well as a hot line in biryanis such as nalli nihari – a 'well-flavoured' whole lamb shank with caramelised onions and rice under a pastry blanket, served with chicken liver raita. The masala prawns are slightly charred at the edges, as is only proper, while switched-on salads and vegan dishes up the ante – although the unusual jackfruit curry is something of an acquired taste.
To finish, save space for the poppyseed mawa cake with yuzu ice cream and jaggery syrup. Drinking is all part of the fun, even if you stick to the teetotal cocktails. If you don't, get slapped around the tonsils with a Padmini Negroni – built around pears soaked overnight in Campari, vermouth, citrus gin and cocoa.
* Jöro has now launched its new restaurant at the Oughtibridge Paper Mill development on the outskirts of Sheffield. Read our first look here and watch this space for a new review coming soon. *
One of the best pos… Read more
* Jöro has now launched its new restaurant at the Oughtibridge Paper Mill development on the outskirts of Sheffield. Read our first look here and watch this space for a new review coming soon. *
One of the best possible uses for a shipping container, Luke and Stacey Sherwood-French's darkly loveable restaurant is hunkered into Sheffield's ex-industrial heartland. A simple fit-out bats away any pretension – all is charcoal, including the sacks of artisan fuel standing ready to grill Thai sausage-stuffed chicken wings. You'll help yourself to cutlery from the big box on the table, allowing the staff space to communicate their deep in-house enthusiasm for the possibilities of flavour and texture. With no carte on offer, the generous tasting menus are well balanced and precise in almost all things, borrowing from the Japanese kitchen as well as making merry with British ingredients and European technique. The opening moments might feature a croustade brimming with Montgomery Cheddar and onions or a well-fired treacle roll with barley-miso butter, followed by silky, barely set chawanmushi custard popping with mussels and trout roe and topped with a decadent white wine sauce (why not?). Pearly North Sea cod dotted with wasabi has a chip-shop vibe with pale tempura-batter scraps added at the table, while the aforementioned stuffed chicken wings come with an inventive, intense sunflower-based satay sauce and juicy papaya salad. West Country venison, served with foraged mushrooms, squash with mandarin kosho and a liberal dousing of cep butter, is something to truly delight in, and puddings are a proper job: kaffir lime gives some Opal Fruit-sherbet zing to a mango parfait; chocolate tofu ice cream comes with a delicate coffee-bean oil, and an apple extravaganza (sponge, miso, custard) is the final hug. A carefully considered drinks list has something for the responsible fermentation enthusiast inside us all, while non-alcoholic options set the standard.
Mexican cuisine gets the refined tasting-menu treatment
Kol is the word for ‘cabbage’ in Mexican Spanish, and the idea of taking an under-appreciated vegetable and spinning it into haute cuisine might serve as a metaphor for how Santiago Lastra has brought 9,000 years of Me… Read more
Kol is the word for ‘cabbage’ in Mexican Spanish, and the idea of taking an under-appreciated vegetable and spinning it into haute cuisine might serve as a metaphor for how Santiago Lastra has brought 9,000 years of Mexican culinary heritage bang up-to-date for British diners more used to tacos and tortillas. The expat chef had already done a tour of duty of the world’s most lauded kitchens before overseeing the Noma Mexico pop-up in 2017, and (as at Noma) Kol's menu only features local or native ingredients.
Lastra's signature dish – and the standout of the 10-course menu – is a fat Scottish langoustine tail daubed with smoked chilli, its sweetness cut with a coriander-like garland of sea arrowgrass. Further garnishing comes at the table, courtesy of squeezing out the juices in the creature’s head, before the whole delectable parcel is wrapped up in a tortilla. It’s the sort of bite-size morsel one wishes came in a serving of 10. Despite the theatrical saucing, it is also a fairly simple (if labour-intensive) assembly, as is another hugely enjoyable course involving confit pork cheek with black beans, woodruff and apple, plus crispy pig’s skin to sprinkle on top of more tortillas (kept warm in a bespoke pouch). Although there’s no denying the creativity it takes to pair a corn and yellow pepper custard with caviar and bisect the dish with tagete flowers (one of the most visually arresting plates we’ve eaten in a long time), there are perhaps not enough flavour fireworks to sustain 10 courses.
The room looks just as good as the cooking, with an open kitchen in the middle staffed by young chefs clad in the same earthy-toned colours as their surroundings, while word-perfect waiting staff are as committed to the Kol project as Lastra himself. Overall, however, we felt this was a tasting menu shaped to fit the sort of international ‘best restaurant’ lists that Noma once topped, with Mexican flavours grafted on to an essentially European structure – from the first thimbleful of kombucha and mezcal broth to a pre-dessert sorbet of butternut squash and chilli. Still, Lastra is to be commended for proving that high-end Mexican cuisine works as well in London as it does in Mexico City.
Just be warned that reservations go live two months ahead and disappear almost immediately; the basement Mezcaleria bar may be an easier (and cheaper) way in, with Mexican spirits to wash down small plates every bit as intricate as the dishes served upstairs.
Simon Rogan was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours List at the end of 2023, which is some measure of the influence he has had on contemporary British dining. The nerve centre of the whole operation is still here, in a stone-bu… Read more
Simon Rogan was awarded an MBE in the New Year Honours List at the end of 2023, which is some measure of the influence he has had on contemporary British dining. The nerve centre of the whole operation is still here, in a stone-built former smithy on a Cartmel road-bend, not far from its sibling Rogan & Co. The ambience has lost none of its rusticity, from the roughcast whitewashed walls and raftered ceilings to the anvil after which the place is named. The light, airy conservatory makes a fine spot for lunch. Smartly clad staff oversee a welcoming – and supremely professional – approach to hospitality, and the food does the rest. The kitchen mobilises a battalion of unexpected ingredients in surprising – even stunning – combinations, with textural notes to the fore as well as a clear focus on sustainability and regionalism. Among the appetisers is a fritter of Duroc pork and smoked eel on lovage emulsion with sweetcorn purée, an unimaginably delicious composition of flavours. There is also a pudding of Berkswell cheese coated in caramelised birch sap, tapped from a tree just a couple of miles away. A succession of plated dishes might include tiny pink fir potatoes cooked in chicken fat with pickled walnuts and an oil of burnt onion ash, while one of L'Enclume's signatures is the seaweed custard in beef broth and bone marrow, garnished with a house blend of caviar and Maldon oyster. Various vegetable-based specialties are always part of the menu, their seasonal freshness offset with powerful herbs and seasonings. As for animal protein, a pairing of John Dory and cuttlefish in pork fat with shrimp sauce, spinach and verbena might precede an outstanding dish of dry-aged Middle White pork in mead sauce with black garlic purée and pickled allium seeds, plus a pork-fat crumpet sitting on a hot stone to keep it warm. Textures go haywire in a serving of frozen Tunworth cheese topped with puffed buckwheat, lemon thyme crystals and gel, on a compôte of Champagne rhubarb. After strawberries and sweet cicely cream served in a ceramic pouch, followed by a miso-caramel mousse with apple (another L’Enclume signature), we concluded with an array of superlative petits fours – including a cornet of peach-stone ice cream with elderflower and white-chocolate ganache, and a tiny caramelised pear tart with a spot of herb oil. Wines by the glass are presented on an iPad, which you may want to keep by you as the menu progresses, but it's best to let the wine flights themselves take wing on a cosmopolitan journey around the globe.
Sollip (Korean for pine needle) is the creation of husband-and-wife team Woongchul Park and Bomee Ki who met studying at Le Cordon Bleu, although those expecting traditional Korean or traditional French cuisine will find neither h… Read more
Sollip (Korean for pine needle) is the creation of husband-and-wife team Woongchul Park and Bomee Ki who met studying at Le Cordon Bleu, although those expecting traditional Korean or traditional French cuisine will find neither here. The restaurant is entirely Park and Ki’s own, a peaceful, poetic exploration of their journey in an unobtrusive space – anonymous on the outside, simple, serene, slightly spartan perhaps on the inside. Park (The Ledbury, Koffmann’s) is head chef, Ki (The Arts Club) pastry chef. Together, they produce a nine-dish tasting menu that changes seasonally but for a few fixtures such as daikon tarte tatin (with roasted potato and burnt hay emulsion), and a gamtae sandwich (a diminutive Duckett’s Caerphilly brioche toastie in a diaphanous seaweed net) – both excellent. The menu opens with the commanding flavours of a fiery beef tartare tartlet and a gougère of doenjang (fermented soya bean paste) as snacks, moving on to more subtle, layered dishes that demand the diner’s full attention. First, a study in carrots (juice, purée, grilled) with beurre blanc, then pearlescent poached cod with dried pollock broth and a miniature three-day fermented potato flatbread with tarama. Every element of the final savoury course vies for attention: Padrón pepper purée, a wagyu meatball, Orkney scallop and a side of exceptional black rice. The tea service is stunning, with six different infusions (persimmon, mugwort, buckwheat etc), all beautifully served; the accompanying madeleine and coffee/sesame cookies are also first-rate. The wine list, supplied by Keeling Andrew & Co (of Noble Rot) opens at £35 for a Quinta do Ermizio, 'Chin Chin' Vinho Verde before hopping all too quickly past £50 and up into three figures. The young, casual clientele with big-ticket bottles at their tables seem unfazed.
What began as a supper club in Gabriel Waterhouse's east London flat has settled into the light-filled, modern-industrial ground-floor space at the Empress Works by Regent’s Canal. Pleasingly, the chef (ex-Galvin La Chapelle… Read more
What began as a supper club in Gabriel Waterhouse's east London flat has settled into the light-filled, modern-industrial ground-floor space at the Empress Works by Regent’s Canal. Pleasingly, the chef (ex-Galvin La Chapelle) hasn’t abandoned those supper club roots, so come for lunch (12.30pm) or dinner (7pm) to enjoy a set menu (up to 10 courses in the evening) with carefully paired drinks. Snacks set the tone, perhaps a tiny tartlet of Scottish lobster, the delicacy of the shellfish amplified by preserved lemon, tarragon and kaffir lime gel, or a diminutive hot cross bun filled with slow-cooked Herdwick lamb shoulder mixed sweetly with a plum, date and fig chutney. You might share a table (it’s not compulsory, but that’s the sociable vibe here), and Gabriel and his team host the whole show with easy informality. Beautiful ingredients are handled deftly, resulting in dishes that are inventive, refined without being fussy, and shot through with vigorous Nordic-inflected flavours. Highlights from an October visit included a lusciously rich autumn truffle custard, brûléed with brown sugar to add bitter-sweet notes to the savouriness, with roasted hen of the woods mushrooms, a pickled walnut reduction, puffed barley and a flurry of shaved walnuts, while the consommé of chestnut and morel mushrooms offered as this dish's non-alcoholic pairing was a standout for its robust intensity. Fallow deer from Aynhoe Park, cured in juniper, seared and served with parsnip purée and pickled blackberry, was a lusty celebration of seasonal earthiness. Two sauces (chocolate and a luxurious venison jus) merged happily on the plate to be mopped up with brioche that had been brushed with maple syrup and draped with a ripple of lardo – glorious, especially with a glass of La Petite Julia, Petit Verdot from Château Julia’s tiny Haut-Médoc winery. Dessert defies sweet convention triumphantly in the guise of a goat's cheese parfait with fermented blackcurrant juice (tempered with a little stock syrup) alongside the prettiest linseed cracker with caramelised walnuts, quince jelly and thyme leaves. The honeyed notes and mouth-watering acidity of a late-harvest Riesling from the Mosel is the perfect final sip.
Meticulous multi-layered dishes matched by superlative wines
Built as a props warehouse in the 1800s before becoming a lumber store, the Radford family's aptly named Timberyard feels perfectly attuned to the space it occupies – monumental in scale but retaining intimacy and humility. … Read more
Built as a props warehouse in the 1800s before becoming a lumber store, the Radford family's aptly named Timberyard feels perfectly attuned to the space it occupies – monumental in scale but retaining intimacy and humility. Rough white walls, monastic timber tables, ecclesiastical candles and hemp linen may infer a certain cool asceticism – accentuated by the contemporary classical soundtrack – but there are certainly no metaphorical hair shirts where the food is concerned. Rusticity and refinement sit in perfect balance with the joyous celebration of flavours and a messianic elevation of honest ingredients, both foraged and from artisan producers. Slightly distant staff glide between the tables with almost ritualistic purpose.
Set menus include an extendable three-courses at lunchtime to fuller five-or seven-course options. An opening scene-setter of beach rose and tomato broth blends the Turkish delight aromas of foraged petals into a redolent consommé, while a raw beef toast masterfully offsets earthy funk with floral freshness. Follow on with tiny girolles in a Comté and hazelnut cream, draped in creamy slivers of guanciale and finished with shaved white truffle.
Each dish carefully builds the layers of taste, so a perfectly pan-roasted quail gets just enough sweetness and bite from its smoked onion and wilted monk’s beard accompaniments before harmonising the whole in the savoury creaminess of pan juices cut with black pepper yoghurt. Like so many of the dishes, the apparent simplicity of a raspberry and lavender dessert belies meticulous foundations: perfect fruits, seasoned juice, infused cream and a zingy gel.
If you don’t opt for one of the matched drinks flights, then 30-odd pages of all-natural and often unusual wines offer a compendious delight for those with a Mastermind 'specialist subject' interest. There are superlative choices in all categories, but markups are on the ferocious side. The sommelier offers ready advice and the unlisted, daily-changing wines by the glass are well-chosen – even if a measure of trust is expected when it comes to price and style.
Locals wandering down Chandos Road have become accustomed to Wilsons' stained glass sign adorned with stylised cauliflowers, leeks, onions and peppers – their colours glowing vividly whenever the Redland sun shines. The sign… Read more
Locals wandering down Chandos Road have become accustomed to Wilsons' stained glass sign adorned with stylised cauliflowers, leeks, onions and peppers – their colours glowing vividly whenever the Redland sun shines. The sign is, in fact, rather old: a family heirloom inherited by current owner Mary Wilson, rescued from a restaurant of the same name that operated in west London some decades ago. Nonetheless, it serves as a fitting mission statement for the modern establishment it now advertises, with the emphasis on bright flavours, bright ideas – and, above all, fresh produce.
Wilsons has grown steadily in stature since 2016 – thanks in part to its smallholding, which sits under the flight path to Bristol Airport, and now supplies all vegetables and herbs for the restaurant. Meanwhile, the small, whitewashed dining room is sparsely adorned, apart from a blackboard listing the chalked-up tasting menu and a pair of antlers mounted over the kitchen – where head chef Jan Ostle's own creativity takes flight.
Our visit opened with a tiny, tangy portion of rich red mullet and clementine soup, swiftly succeeded by bread from Wilsons' bakery next door, accompanied by moreish buttermilk pheasant and light-as-air taramasalata. There was the faintest foretaste of spring in a dish of sea bass with parsley, labneh and wild garlic ‘capers’, and midwinter comfort in the standout serving of lightly cooked monkfish, grilled celeriac, onion and fig leaf. Punchy, gamey flavours predominated, not least in a ‘very red’ combo of perfectly cooked mallard, beetroot and rhubarb, all half-hidden beneath a January King cabbage leaf.
A few pilgrims come for Wilsons’ sublime signature dessert of tarte tatin with bay-leaf ice cream, but many more are attracted by the prospect of a neighbourhood restaurant that delivers against so many metrics: affable staff, green credentials and a thoughtfully assembled wine list – plus a kitchen that knows precisely when to surprise and when to satisfy its customers with value as well as quality.
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