Let’s talk about Dishoom. Yes, it’s a chain now. No, I don’t care. The Bacon Naan Roll is the reason I believe in a higher power. It’s what a breakfast sandwich wants to be when it grows up. Pro tip: go to the one in Covent Garden on a Tuesday at 11:30 AM to avoid the queue that snakes like a hungry boa constrictor. The chai tastes like a thousand British-Indian grandmothers poured their love into a cup.
If you want something that feels fancy but isn’t, try Padella near the market. It’s tiny, like a shoebox with ambitions. The pici cacio e pepe is just cheese and pepper and pasta, but it’s the kind of simple that makes you wonder why you ever bothered with complicated food. You’ll sit elbow-to-elbow with a stranger who is also making happy noises. It’s communal dining for introverts.
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And for a proper slap-up dinner without the pomp, hit Hawksmoor on Air Street. The steak is expensive, yeah, but it’s the size of your head and melts like butter in a hot pan. The dripping fries are basically science experiments in delicious. You’ll leave smelling like a barbecue, which is a fantastic start to your night out—or a terrible one if you’re going to the opera after.
