There's no sign of a cost of living crisis on the King's Road, but then the people of Chelsea aren't known for their frugality. The Cadogan Arms is a grand old Victorian boozer - which means it has nice high ceilings, stained glass and a big carved wooden bar - but then this is also Chelsea so they can do a good cocktail and have oysters and fancy salads on the menu. The place had been on my list for years thanks to the "new" owners (this was in 2021, when the country was in full plague mode) being JKS of Gymkhana, Hoppers and Trishna fame, but also because it's not that far from my house in Battersea, and living in Battersea, believe me, a short journey home is a rare treat indeed. It was a good thing we'd booked - the place was completely slammed on a Friday night, not at all a given in many city centre pubs I've noticed lately. Welcome cocktails (well, we welcomed ourselves with them) were very good - an El Diablo with both mezcal and tequila, and a Sticky Toffee Pudding Old Fashioned which combined buttered bourbon and PX to produce a remarkably authentic STP flavour profile. There's a definite North-American-Mexican lean to the drinks list - I also notice they sold Agua di Madre as a non-alcoholic option, and interesting range of drinks made with fermented kefir. I mean, this is Chelsea, after all. Now, I hesitate - usually - to review a place after having just one dish (each) but this is, after all, a gastropub and we definitely weren't the only people just popping in for one dish before heading home to watch the new White Lotus. My burger was perfectly fine - a good shape and size, easily eaten with my hands so many marks for that, but unfortunately the beef was overcooked to grey and rather dry. They didn't ask me how I'd like it cooked, so maybe this is just how they want to serve it. Much better was a £34 sirloin, a giant chunky thing cooked accurately albeit a little timidly - we'd like to have seen more of a dark crust - but it tasted great and it really was something almost approaching a bargain for your money. Both sets of chips - chunky and fries - were decent, and the bill which I completely forgot to take a photo of but we did pay honestly, was £47.88 each, about right really. I mean, we didn't leave hungry. It's almost always the case that when a restaurant doesn't have to be good to make money - when your customer base is the captive audience of an airport terminal, for example, or a posh suburb of London where residents are independently wealthy and not very discerning - it isn't. I have had some genuinely diabolical meals in Kensington and Chelsea - and Belgravia, and Hampstead - over the years, to the extent that it almost puts you off trying anywhere in this places again. But I'm glad I challenged my prejudices at the Cadogan, and found a place that both knows its audience and tries to do things well. And such an easy journey home, too. 7/10

Three down, one to go. My determination to visit all of the restaurants in this particular restaurant mini-chain - because, so far at least, they've all been that damn good - has now taken me to a northern suburb of Leeds and to the Dastaan there. My worry is that all of the things that made Black Salt and Koyal so remarkable also very much apply to their Leeds location, and so this post may end up being a bit, well, familiar. But a good restaurant deserves to be talked about, and indeed the fact that this team is able to run 4 (I assume... or at least 3) world-class spots at once is even more reason to shout it from the rooftops. Dastaan Leeds is big and brightly lit, and on this particular cold Tuesday evening pretty quiet, although the room did begin to start filling up towards the end of the evening. It's a pleasant enough space - functional, slightly corporate - but your experience is lifted immediately thanks to the attention of the staff, who are so charming and welcoming and enthusiastic about everything that you feel like the only people in the room (even if you actually are). Dinner began - naturally - with papadums and chutneys. Interestingly, there was one more kind of chutney than Koyal, and one fewer type of papadum, so we didn't get the Walkers Max-shaped crisps but did get a tomato and chilli chutney alongside the coriander and mango types. They were still all superb though, particularly the coriander which had a deep, rich, vegetal flavour. Pani puri were just as powerfully flavoured as the puri at Koyal but the pastry casings were just a bit smaller, and therefore far more comfortable to eat. Like all the best versions of this dish, they explode in the mouth in a riot of spices and a blast of tamarind, one of the all-time great vegan dishes. But just look at that lamb chop. Just look at it. Have you ever seen a more beautiful thing? The way the extremities are darkened and crunchy from the grill, the way it has that incredible tomato-soup colour from yoghurt and spices, the way you just know the center is soft and just-pink, expertly conceived and beautifully timed. Then, let me tell you, it tasted even better than it looked. This was a monumental achievement in chop-craft, an absolutely stunning bit of cooking that even had the edge on the excellent version at Koyal a couple of weeks previously. This may, in fact, be the best lamb chop I've ever eaten in my life. The problem is, you get the very strong impression that you could just order anything at Dastaan and it would turn out to be great - narrowing our choices down to a sensible amount for two people was more of a case of deciding what we could definitely not live without. These are veggie samosas, grease-free and generously portioned, with another fantastic coriander-based chutney. And this is a bowl of marvellously fragrant jackfruit biryani, studded with peas and topped with crisp caramelised onions. The vegan version doesn't come with the famous Gymkhana-style pastry lid to smash apart (my dining companion on this trip was a vegan) but has the same room-conquering aroma as it's brought to the table. Finally, another contender for dish of the day, pork cheek vindaloo. The complex, vinegar-spiked sauce could have credibly made a paperback book edible but the meltingly tender chunks of pork served to lift it into the stratosphere - this was a genuinely breathtaking dish, quite an incredible thing. But, sadly, there's only so much of the menu at Dastaan it's possible to eat in one go, and so we reluctantly finished up and paid, vowing to return next I was in town. The bill, with a couple of beers and 10% service came to just over £42pp, which considering the expertise on offer here (remember, these are ex-Gymkhana people serving 2-Michelin-star quality food) is one of the great dining bargains of the country. 9/10

If there's one thing I've learned after nearly twenty years of writing about food in this country, it's that fine dining can happen pretty much anywhere. If Ormskirk, an otherwise unremarkable town in Lancashire previously best known as the childhood home of Marianne Faithful (and very little else) can in 2025 hold five Michelin stars then all bets are off - there's no excuse for anywhere not being a food destination. So let me introduce you to West Sussex, and specifically to the South Downs just outside of Horsham, where on the same short stretch of road sit no less than two Michelin starred restaurants. And although I'm sure Ben Wilkinson at The Pass has plenty to recommend it (another time, maybe), today I'm going to talk about Interlude at Leonardslee House, a local, seasonal, South African-leaning fine dining spot quite unlike anywhere else I've ever had the pleasure of visiting. They don't make much of the South African angle on the website - perhaps because if you're trying to sell yourself as hyper-local and seasonal then I suppose you risk confusing people a bit. But in practice it all works incredibly well - a South African-led kitchen, working out of South African-owned vineyard and estate, is cooking ingredients grown, foraged and caught within shouting distance of the restaurant using African-inspired techniques and recipes. Lunch began in the spectacularly comfortable (think St James' private members club) bar, with a beetroot and goat's cheese meringue which burst on the tongue into a riot of flavour, and a prettily decorated cheese stick with home mate "Marmite", powerfully rich with umami and with a lovely delicate bite. After those, a dainty little Jerusalem artichoke and Hamachi tuna taco, which involved curry leaf emulsion to great effect, dressed with some micro herbs and what looked like mini vine leaves. Leonardslee have a couple of vineyards on the estate with which they make 3 varieties of (actually very reasonably priced) sparkling wine, and part of the 'experience' at Interlude is to be talked through them before lunch at an entertaining little tasting. And I'm happy to report that working through 3 glasses of fizz and a cocktail before lunch even starts is a great way to get into the right mood. We were then led from the bar into an anteroom on the way to the dining room, where stood a cute little presentation of some of the estate's bounty - their own venison biltong on one side, various herbs, seeds and oils on the other, and between them a glass teapot of rich, silky venison consommé. The pride in showing off the variety of elements available to work with was evident - even the chocolate was "local", made in Horsham using fair-trade cocoa. Now reseated in a gorgeous, high-ceilinged dining room with a commanding view of the gardens, the lunch proper began, with this oak-smoked oyster. The smoking had turned the bivalve from its usual texture to a firmer, meatier style, which various dots of sharp citrussy jelly offset nicely. As is so often the case in fine dining places, bread was a course unto itself - a mosbolletjie loaf, all soft and brioch-y and made using fermented grape juice (the estate's own, of course) as a leavening agent. It arrived with koji-cultured (another little ingredient I'm seeing a lot around lately) butter and some home made preserve, which is apparently a nod to how this bread is eaten back in Africa, with butter and jam. Next came what I assume was either a last-minute or usually-dinner-only dish as I don't seem to have it on my menu - a cute little quenelle of some kind of lobster tartare, topped (well why not indeed) with a dollop of Exmoor caviar. It tasted exactly as good as you might hope lobster and caviar would taste - extremely good, and the theatre of the caviar presentation, arriving under its own little crystal dome, added another bit of joy. It's interesting to note at this point that while Interlude is not a cheap date, unlike some multi-course places the prices do reflect the ingredients - there's some high-end stuff on offer here. "Rabbit eats carrot" is, we were told, a dish that has been on the menu in some form at Interlude more or less since day one, but has gone through several metamorphoses. Here you see it as a little boat-shaped snack of estate rabbit topped with some of the herbs and vegetables (carrot, of course, included) it feeds on. Also part of the same dish, little tartlets of I think rabbit tartare, and miniature millefeuille-type mouthfuls of what I think were rabbit jelly sandwiched between layers of carrot emulsion. Sorry for the vagueness, it all rushed past in a happy blur and after those introductory glasses of wine my brain was very much in 2nd gear. Fish course was aged turbot, the fillet of which glinted with a mother of pearl sheen, indicating (I have been told) both an extremely high-quality fish and a delicate touch in cooking it. The sauce was one of those beautiful French types, at once both light but buttery and rich, and accompanying were various types of foraged (at Shoreham-by-Sea, the closest bit of coastline to Horsham) sea greens like monks beard, sea kale and sea purslane. Oh yes, and an absolute truckload of winter truffles, because if you can, you absolutely should. The "main" meat course was their own venison. Leonardslee are lucky enough to have four different types of deer on the estate, and this is sika, served both as a lovely pink bit of seared loin and a bitesize nugget of slow-cooked game served skewered over coals. The loin came with more winter mushrooms of various kinds, and a crisp, salty slice of grilled kale, and it was all just completely perfect. The transition to the dessert courses began with sorrel granita soaked in Leonardslee sloe gin, yet more showcasing of their seemingly endless ability to make any food or beverage out of what they find growing around the place. I'm still kicking myself for not taking a bottle of it home with me, but I suppose there's always next time. Blackberry - preserved (literally, as in made into a preserve) from earlier in the year was topped with crumbled ice cream blast-frozen theatrically tableside. And then shortly after the classic pairing of chocolate and mint, albeit foraged water mint (they grow next to the estate's lakes) and chocolate from J Cocoa, a bean-to-bar producer from Hassocks. The mint flavour in particular was incredibly arresting - your mouth felt like it had been lovingly cleaned from the inside out. There was yet more - a superbly-kept cheeseboard that focussed on serving a small (although not tiny) selection well rather than have a trolley groaning with a bewildering number of options (not that I don't often enjoy that approach too). And once we had finished with that it was time for a final flourish of petits fours back in the bar, expertly crafted little choux buns, citrussy bitesize jellies, and chocolate truffles all variously infused with acorn, eucalyptus and their own homemade walnut butter. OK, so, let's get the locally foraged elephant in the room out of the way before we go any further. Interlude is not cheap. Our lunch had we been paying full whack, with wines and cheeseboard and welcome cocktail (etc. etc.) would have conservatively come to about £250pp, perhaps more if you made more use of the bar, which puts it all pretty firmly in the "special occasion" budget bracket. But Interlude is a special occasion, in a hundred different ways at once, and this is exactly the kind of experience that you'd hope to get when paying that amount for your lunch. In its own way, it's great value. While waiting for the uber home, sozzled and sated, my friend said "I think I've just seen a kangaroo". I looked blearily up at her, then without even bothering to follow up such a ridiculous statement, replied "No, you haven't" and went back to checking my phone. It was only when I got home and visited the restaurant website that I discovered that Leonardslee does indeed have its own population of not kangaroos but wallabies, which have lived on the estate since the late 19th century. So if after reading all of the above you still needed a reason to visit, there are also marsupials. 10/10 I was invited to Interlude and didn't see a bill. Lunch menu is £120, dinner £195 and rooms start at £525 for a two night stay.

If it's true that some of the country's most exciting and dynamic country gastropubs are the product of their surroundings - the lush farmlands and rivers of Bowland that supply the Parker's Arms, for example, the or the orchards, woodlands and fields of wild game that provide the Royal Oak Whatcote with their astonishing seasonal variety - then the downside of this reliance on super-locality is that the places themselves can be quite hard to get to. Often many miles from the nearest rail station, connected only by two-a-day rural bus routes - if at all - it's a real job for the average city-dweller (and, by extension, non car-owner) to be persuaded that anywhere is worth a £100+ train journey and a £50+ cab, even if, as in the case of both places mentioned above, it really, really is worth the effort. So the Sun Inn, Felmersham is a much easier sell. Bedford is 40m from St Pancras on a train journey (at the weekend at least) that cost £13.30 return. From Bedford, the 12-minute cab ride costs £17 (they have Uber as well which is probably even cheaper) and you will be greeted in their cozy, log-fired bar - should you wish - with a pint of Westbrooks Laguna pale ale (4.6%ABV) which costs £4.90 a pint. You really don't have to travel far out of the city to rediscover what true value really means. And I haven't even mentioned the price of the evening meal yet. Before that, though, a little mention of the rooms above the pub. The particular suite we stayed in, "Dawn", is one of the most impressively luxurious spaces I've had the pleasure to overnight in since l'Enclume. Occupying a number of levels of a converted barn, downstairs is a kitchenette and living room with sofa bed, and round the corner a giant bathroom with walk-in shower bigger than my entire kitchen. Up some spot-lit stairs and a wonderfully quirky hand-crafted banister is a giant loft bedroom with a copper claw-foot bath at the foot of a second flight of stairs. Attention to detail is everywhere, from the way the spotlights come on to guide your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, to the lovely bright white soft towels to the USB-C sockets next to all the beds. But the most impressive achievement is that staircase - my photos can't do it justice, but the way the skirting board matches the contours of the 17th century stone walls is an absolute joy, a woodworking masterclass. Anyway I expect you'll be wanting to know about dinner. First up was house bread and butter, served warm in little napkin swaddling. To go with this and in fact everything else that followed we'd chosen a bottle of an organic Penedes cava for £33, which if it sounds good value (and it was) it's worth pointing out there were 2 bottles of fizz cheaper available. Whites started at £28 and reds at £33 - the commitment to quality at value really does extend to every bit of the operation here. Starter was confit duck from their own farm (and lovely stuff it was too, not too fatty and not at all dry, with a nice soft bite and bursting with flavour) with butter beans. On top, breadcrumbs provided texture and a healthy handful of winter herbs brought all the flavours together. An easily enjoyable, rustic starter which felt right at home in this ancient, candle-lit pub. Next, leeks with brown shrimp, which was, like the duck, seasoned perfectly (not always a given - confit duck can easily be overpoweringly salty), boldly flavoured and full of a nice range of textures. The monks beard was nice and crunchy, and the beurre blanc soaked into the leeks in the way that it always should. Fortunately we still had some bread left over by this point to soak up the leftover sauce - it would have been a real shame not to. Main was Hereford beef, again from their own farm, served as a giant chunk of slow-cooked brisket with layers of melting fat and soft cow. In all honesty the accompanying noodles and satay sauce didn't sit quite right with the theme of the evening - I don't usually mind the odd Asian influence here and there but the satay was rather sweet and the noodles soft and a bit redundant - but as the main event was the beef, and the beef was great, then they just about got away with it. Chargrilled PSB could have done with a couple more minutes as well, but the fact I polished my plate off despite being pretty full by this point probably tells you everything you need to know. brilliant. A cute little miniature apple pie, all glossy and sweet and full of nice rich apple, was served alongside a scoop of soy sauce ice cream, which I am pleased to report is an experiment which passed with flying colours. Apparently the kitchen had been testing different flavours and someone suggested soy almost as a joke, and yet it turned out to be great. It helped, too, of course, that they'd used one of those fancy ice cream machines so the texture was smooth as silk. Cheeses - a stilton, a local soft rind, Golden Cross goats and a Brillat-Savarin were all perfect temperature and - in the case of the Brillat - soft to the point of liquid, but not necessarily in a bad way. And if we are to take them at their word that this is a normal portion size (and I have no reason not to), £10 for all this cheese is - again - real value. And speaking of value, two final points. Firstly, the five-course tasting menu, made intelligently with local ingredients and with generosity of flavour and spirit, is £55. That's just over £10 a course, and I don't care how cynical you are about restaurant pricing, but that's a bargain. Also, they cutely say "We absolutely will not add 12.5% to your bill" on the menu which is either a principled stand against service charges or a coded way of suggesting you add it on yourself if you can afford it, but either way pretty commendable. Which all adds up to a day and a night at the Sun Inn being an absolute, God-given joy. I'm a sucker for ancient, low-beamed pubs at the best of times, and I would have had the time of my life in Felmersham if I'd just had a burger and chips in the bar (they do this too - I bet it's great), but sit it alongside a nicely proportioned dining room serving one of the last great tasting menu bargains in the country, and give the option of those astonishing rooms to sleep it off in after, and you have all the ingredients for a proper hotel and dining destination. For anyone wanting a foodie weekend away on a budget, somewhere that feels timeless, rural and ancient but is barely an hour from London, this should be right at the top of your list. A very special little place indeed. I was invited to the Sun Inn and didn't see a bill. However, the 2-bed suite we stayed in starts at £225/night, which if you say as £56.25pp is a far more attractive idea. All other prices, including transport, above. Sorry about the slightly rubbish photos, it was too dark in the dining room for my big camera!