Jupiter Burger is from the people behind Dom’s Subs, and they continue to prove how good they are at putting meat (in this case Hill & Szrok beef) between bread (buttery, pillowy Martin’s potato rolls). This Netil Market stall looks like a ‘60s diner, but designed by Spock. And it’s manned by an always-smiling team who shovel a few extra chips into your already stuffed bag as lacy-edged patties sizzle in the background.

We didn’t plan to go out to eat ice cream in mid-December, and nor did we expect to be at The Dreamery a bottle later either. The ice cream shop-cum-wine bar is the little sibling to Goodbye Horses across the road. It shouldn’t work this well, especially when Londoners are in long johns mode but, somehow, it does. There are chrome fittings for stylish De Beauvoir locals to lean against, chilled reds to warm flushed cheeks, and inventive flavours like oolong and pear sorbet.

With a third location, we’re officially calling La Chingada a mini-chain. But this one may well be its best spot yet. The Mexican restaurant has done away with a short-lived steak house endeavour and, in its place, accidentally made its warmest restaurant to date. There are comfortable banquettes, warm lighting, and plenty of drinks for your loudest mates. Most interestingly of all, the menu has expanded a little. A bowl of chicken pozole is the kind of soup everyone needs mid-winter.

Cafe Mondo feels like a group of cheffy friends casually knocking up excellent, gourmet sandwiches after a big night out. There’s music, there’s singing, and there's even a Princess Di fridge magnet next to Sesame Street's Ernie. Once inside, extra napkins are recommended by the friendly gaggle of chefs who stand behind the counter frying fish fingers, wrapping hoagie rolls, and spooning koji caesars into takeaway boxes.

After pop-ups and supper clubs, AngloThai has found a permanent home. And boy has it landed on its feet. The British-Thai restaurant has set up shop in Marylebone, in a space that feels ready to be listed on The Modern House. It’s polished. It’s adult. It’s full of Tucci lookalikes drinking sunflower seed Old Fashioneds. Beyond the polished room, with a spoonful of pearled naked oats in your hand, you’ll realise that AngloThai is allotment-core in its heart.

Quill is a candlelit wine bar housed in one of Borough Yards’ intimate railway arches and it shows the kind of commitment to its charming, ye olde cause rarely witnessed outside of a steampunk convention. Here, the tennis ball-sized scotch egg is cured in tea and the juicy hot dog smothered in a fondue-style sauce is après-ski by way of London Bridge. Don’t expect too much high-brow faff from the food—almost everything follows the comforting cheese and carbohydrate equation.

The Raglan is Walthamstow’s best pub. Print it on t-shirts. Make badges. And pray for the area's house prices. It’s the laid-back, little sibling of Shankeys and being an excellent host runs in the family. Meals are leisurely affairs, where you’ll (willingly) be plied with pints and sharing platters of spice bags—salt and chilli tater tots, peppers, onions, and a liberal pour of curry sauce—until rolling out hours later than planned.

Bottarga in Chelsea has got whatever ‘it’ is. It’s effortless, it’s chic, it’s cool, and some of the Greek dishes (cc: lamb belly) need to be studied for their crisp-factor. The small, candlelit dining room is buzzy and packed every night, with walk-ins sitting at the counter in their kitten heels and slicked-back hair, soaking in the electric atmosphere. The heated terrace outside has a calmer, grown-up energy, perfect for a quieter, inner-circle-only catch-up.

The Yellow Bittern, a British-Irish restaurant-slash-bookshop on a corner of Caledonian Road, is technically only open for two lunch sittings on weekdays. But a meal here is actually suspended in that week of full-throttle bliss between Christmas and New Year’s. Sausage acts as a warm-up for glorious wood pigeon and guinea fowl pie, pie becomes more pie, only it’s sweet and laced with apples this time.

From the people behind Gymkhana, Brigadiers, and Bibi, Ambassadors Clubhouse has been set up for success—and it delivers. This fun Indian restaurant in Mayfair has two floors and a heated verandah, you know, in case you need a break from the banging playlist and tiger print inside. There’s some serious party energy downstairs if you want it, but honestly? It doesn’t matter where you sit. The food is hit after hit of bold flavours and moreish sauces.