Iconic London Restaurants You Must Try at Least Once

London isn’t just a city of red buses and double-deckers. It’s a place where you can eat a £120 tasting menu in a candlelit cellar one night and grab a perfectly crispy fish and chips from a corner shop the next. The city’s food scene doesn’t just reflect its history-it reinvents it. And if you’ve never eaten at one of its truly iconic restaurants, you haven’t really experienced London yet.

The Ivy Westminster

Open since 1917, The Ivy Westminster isn’t just old-it’s lived through wars, celebrity scandals, and more political deals than Parliament. It’s where actors, MPs, and royals have quietly slipped in for lunch without being mobbed. The menu? Classic British with a modern twist. Think venison wellington, truffle mac and cheese, and a lemon tart that’s been unchanged since the 1980s. The waiters remember your name, not because they’re trained to, but because they’ve served you before. It’s the kind of place where you don’t need a reservation three months ahead-you just show up, and if you’re lucky, they’ll squeeze you in. No gimmicks. No Instagrammable walls. Just food that tastes like London used to feel.

St. John

St. John changed how London thought about meat. Before it opened in 1994, offal was something you avoided. After? People lined up for bone marrow toast and roasted pig’s head. Fergus Henderson’s philosophy is simple: use the whole animal, cook it well, and don’t hide behind sauces. The menu is short, seasonal, and brutally honest. You’ll find dishes like liver pâté with toast, roast marrow bones with parsley salad, and black pudding with apple compote. It’s not fancy. It’s not pretty. But it’s unforgettable. The dining room is plain-white walls, wooden tables, no music. And that’s the point. The food speaks for itself. If you’ve never tasted properly cooked kidney or a perfectly roasted chicken with nothing but salt and butter, St. John is where you start.

Le Gavroche

Opened in 1967 by the Roux brothers, Le Gavroche is the grandfather of London fine dining. It was the first British restaurant to earn two Michelin stars-and it held them for over 30 years. The food is French, yes, but it’s French done with British precision. Duck confit with black truffle, lobster thermidor with saffron risotto, and a cheese trolley that rolls out like a parade. The service? Impeccable, but never stiff. The dining room feels like a Parisian salon from the 1950s-crystal chandeliers, velvet chairs, linen napkins folded into perfect squares. It’s not cheap. A three-course meal starts around £150. But it’s not just a meal-it’s a masterclass in how to treat food with respect. Many chefs in London today trained here. If you want to know where modern British fine dining began, this is the place.

Dishoom

Dishoom isn’t just a restaurant-it’s a time machine. It’s modeled after the Irani cafés of 1960s Bombay, where workers, artists, and students gathered for chai, butter chicken, and naan straight off the tandoor. The decor? Peeling posters, brass fixtures, and ceiling fans that creak like they’ve been there since independence. The menu? A love letter to Mumbai street food. Try the black daal, the keema pav, and the chicken tikka masala that’s been cooked the same way since 2010. The chai is served in small glasses, not mugs, and it’s sweet enough to make you smile. What makes Dishoom special isn’t the food-it’s the feeling. It’s loud, warm, and full of life. People come for the food, but they stay for the energy. It’s the only place in London where you’ll hear Hindi, English, and laughter all at once.

The Ledbury

The Ledbury is the kind of restaurant that makes you question everything you thought you knew about dining. Two Michelin stars. No menu. Just a tasting menu that changes daily based on what’s fresh, what’s rare, and what chef Brett Graham feels like making. One night, you might get scallops with sea buckthorn and fermented garlic. The next, venison with juniper and burnt honey. The plates are small, but each one carries the weight of hours of research and experimentation. The dining room is quiet, dim, and elegant-no loud music, no flashy decor. Just focus on the food. It’s expensive-£320 per person, before wine. But it’s not just about the price. It’s about the story. Each dish is a chapter in a book written by a chef who’s spent decades studying flavor, texture, and memory. If you want to eat at the top of London’s culinary pyramid, this is where you go.

Brindisa

Brindisa is where Spain meets London in the most delicious way possible. Founded in 1999 by a Spanish woman who brought real jamón ibérico, manchego, and patatas bravas to a city that barely knew what tapas were, it’s now a cornerstone of London’s Spanish food scene. The bar is always busy, the shelves are lined with Spanish wines, and the paella is cooked in a giant copper pan that’s been passed down since the first location opened. Don’t miss the chorizo with quince, the octopus with paprika, or the churros dipped in thick chocolate. It’s not fancy. It’s not quiet. But it’s real. You’ll find students, tourists, and old Spanish expats all sharing tables, pouring wine, and arguing about which region makes the best tortilla. Brindisa doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is: a slice of Spain in the heart of Notting Hill.

St. Bart’s Kitchen

Hidden behind a quiet churchyard in the City of London, St. Bart’s Kitchen is the kind of place you’d walk past a hundred times and never notice. But once you step inside, you realize why locals keep it secret. The menu is simple: roast chicken, beef wellington, and apple crumble. The portions are generous. The wine list is small but perfectly chosen. The chef? He’s been here since 1987. The owner? She still brings in fresh herbs from her garden every morning. It’s the opposite of trend-driven. No foams. No deconstructions. Just food that tastes like home. It’s the kind of place where regulars know the staff by name, and the staff know their favorite dishes. You won’t find it on any “best of” list. But if you ask a Londoner who’s lived here 30 years where they go for Sunday lunch, this is the name they’ll whisper.

Why These Places Matter

These aren’t just restaurants. They’re landmarks. Each one carries a piece of London’s soul. The Ivy remembers the glamour of post-war Britain. St. John redefined what British food could be. Le Gavroche laid the foundation for fine dining. Dishoom brought the warmth of another continent into the city’s heart. The Ledbury pushed boundaries. Brindisa made Spanish flavors feel like home. And St. Bart’s? It’s the quiet reminder that not every great meal needs a Michelin star.

If you only eat at one of these, make it St. John. If you eat at two, add Dishoom. If you eat at three, you’ve already seen more of London than most tourists ever do. But if you eat at all of them? You’ve tasted the city’s history, its pride, its chaos, and its heart.