Some things purr on, doing their business, no X-factor genes pumping their spoilt podgy dancing legs. One of these is the modest but wonderful Footstool Restaurant in the brick-vaulted crypt of St Johns church in Smith Square, Westminster.

Even before the credit crunch (or ‘recession’ as we old financial experts still refer to a lack of employment, rising prices and general despair) there was a need for restaurants that delivered well-priced food served without fuss and at some speed. For many people, and I suppose that means young people, food is only a part of the evening, the start and not the main attraction. For them Inn Noodle is just the way to go.

Not many restaurants are housed in a greenhouse, but then not many restaurants are like Petersham Nurseries. Originally the teahouse to the charmingly ramshackle garden centre located just a few steps away from the Thames, it has grown under Skye Gyngell’s inspirational cooking to become a real dining destination. Although the desire for alliteration obscures the fact that, to be accurate, it is only open at lunchtimes except on very special occasions.

The delicious paradox of a ‘Hindoostani Coffee House’ by the presciently named Dean Mohomed would have intrigued liberal thinkers and epicurean romantics of 1809 – the year that England’s first Indian restaurant appeared. Although Dean was declared bankrupt a few years later his legend lives on, namely as a historical snippet on the menu at Indian restaurant Rooburoo where this fusion of English and Indian is evident some 200 years later.

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.