It is undeniably lovely inside; the rich colours, the way the mirrored walls reflect back on each other and the small stage at the centre is wreathed in clouds of dry ice Costumed theatricals and grotesques amble about and I think I spot my dear friend Giles among their number, but it turns out to actually be the Bearded Lady.

Trishna is a new breed ‘Indian’ with stylish little copper lampshades that hang intimately over each table, bare brick walls painted a fashionable grey and even some of the original wood panelling left to add a bit of tone. So it’s somewhere to fine dine, not a spot to indulge in a post-pub frenzy. That the food hasn’t the coarse kick associated with more traditional British-Indian restaurants is to be applauded; it’s time for the food to come out from under the spice.

I don’t know about you, but when I raid the salad section at the local sandwich shop the name of the game is to force the biggest amount possible into the smallest box available. This is then squeezed shut so that all the way to the checkout it is humming with tension like an over wound spring ready to leap open at the last minute flicking sweet corn in all directions. It’s a situation that Tibits, the gourmet vegetarian restaurant, has found a solution to.

Calling a place Sherlock’s when it’s located on Baker Street is, I suppose, rather inevitable. Luckily though it’s not something that every local retailer has chosen to do There is no ‘Holmes 4U’ estate agents and no pub called The Moriarty’s Revenge. The hotel, which houses the restaurant, does have a silhouette sign of the great man hanging outside but that, thankfully, is the limit of the theming.

Between a Chinese restaurant like Gourmet San – cheap and authentic – and Kai – far from cheap and a fascinating fusion of east and west – lies a sad sea of sweet and sour. So those looking for Chinese fine dining should walk on water to Kai’s discreet door in Mayfair. Indeed a certain restaurant guide has voted Kai Best Chinese Restaurant in London, in its 2009 Restaurant Guide.

Bang off Clerkenwell’s Hatton Gardens at the Hat and Tun (Hatton Tun – punny, no?) is Ed and Tom Martin’s latest addition to their empire, a funny cross between Victorian East End boozer and English country pub.

So we have the ubiquitous dark, wood-panelled walls hosting haphazard stuffed pheasant, wild boar and badger heads. Then – on the counter – a jar of pickled eggs, a tureen of cauliflower soup, mushy peas in a vat.

The clergy and food, what is it eh? Across the world priests of all denominations have been traditionally depicted as being as well fed and corpulent as a restaurant critic. It shows in the names of dishes like the Middle Eastern Imam Bayaldi, ‘the priest fainted’; either at the deliciousness or at the thought of how much olive oil went into it. And here on Santino Busciglio’s excellent menu at Number Twelve are strozzapreti, or ‘Priest Stranglers’.

‘Hello? Is that the Chinese takeaway? Great, can I have Ox tendon in spicy oil, fried green beans with preserved vegetable and chilli, Sichuan style tofu and seafood, fried pork tendons in spicy salt, a skewered whole quail and the fried lamb with onion and lots of cumin and chilli. What do you mean you’ve never heard of any of that? What kind of Chinese restaurant are you?”

Once upon a time in a job far far away, I used to walk from Oxford Circus to Marylebone for my pub lunch and pint. This was before the ban on lunch hours in general, and drinking during them in particular, became common HR policy. Back then it seemed a cute little backwater area and really nothing has changed. Marylebone Lane still meanders pleasantly, as indeed I used to on those occasions when one pint had slipped into three. I couldn’t afford a restaurant then but I can now, especially at 108’s prices.

Cross the rubicon of Clapham, regarded by some people as a part of North London that got accidentally cut off by the Thames, and you’re in the deep Sarf proper. Crystal Palace is as south as it gets really and yet only a few stops by mainline from London Bridge or Victoria, as any resident will tell you. It was this closeness and airy height above sea level that led to the great Exhibition Rooms of 1851 being moved here from Hyde Park. The Crystal Palace was a major attraction until the whole lot burnt to the ground in 1936, cheered on by my father who was allowed to stay up late in his winceyette pyjamas. Read more