You won’t go here for a sit down special meal; in fact most of you wont go here at all seeing as you don’t know where Norbury is do you?  But if you’re ever darn sarf then look out for the loudest building in town right next to the banks of the burbling River Wandle. Lahore joy ahoy!

The biscuit-coloured exterior of The Plough and the views of a busy crossroads at the dodgy end of St Johns Hill are far from attractive but inside the décor’s trendy without being pretentious – plush pink sofas, foxglove wallpaper, yellow tasselled lampshades, a carpet of astro-turf and jaunty, coloured plants in treacle tins.

I thought I knew London well, but The Courtyard at 51 was a real surprise. Hidden away in a quiet street in Victoria just minutes from the station is a secluded alfresco eating and drinking spot that I had no idea existed. I don’t mean a tiny terrace or narrow pavement that is so typical of inner London outdoor spaces: this atmospheric area with an elegant fountain as its centrepiece is a spacious oasis.

Arguably, everyone loves a curry. But, as any discerning fellow knows, there’s curry and there’s curry. There’s the huge vats of base gravy turned into sickly-sweet kormas; dull, derivative dhansaks; or vicious, volcanic vindaloos. Then there are scratch cooked, silky, butter-based sauces; bright green, spanking fresh herbal preparations; and thick, nut-enriched pastes. And Bombay Palace are firm champions of the latter bunch.

Every summer, the guys who own a pub called The Gun turn their large outdoor, riverside terrace into a Portuguese grill, serving fish (from up the road at Billingsgate Market) as well as burgers, ribs of beef and lamb kebabs. So I went along with visions of glasses of chilled vihno verde, plates of bacalhau and nice piece of charcoal grilled fish- after all, what could be nicer?

Stepping into this shoebox-sized ‘Anglo Franco’ bistro is like travelling back in time 70 years to an era of post-war libération; it has the bohemian air of a secret, oak panelled salon, artists in residence huddled in a Gauloises haze.

The grits (like a coarse polenta) provided an unctuous creaminess which slowly dissolved to give way to tiny crunchy flecks. The fabulous accompanying prawns exploded like meaty fireworks between the teeth. Deep fried onion bits gave an additional depth of flavour and had they been a little crunchier, they would have provided yet another dimension of texture.

It’s not cheap, but then fish isn’t cheap these days, especially cod. It is however about as healthy as fast food gets and it’s certainly great quality and cooked properly. I doubt we’ll ever see a return of the high street chippy, but Poppies’ gently ironic take on the past is certainly welcome.

Overall, I liked the Northall, the cooking was good and it is obvious that they are taking care to source quality ingredients. They are not pushing boundaries at the cutting edge of British cuisine, but that isn’t what grand hotel dining rooms are for, and if you eat from one of their fixed price menus, there is value on offer

What began as a supper club in 2010 by Ning Ma has become a hotspot in South-London and one of the standout arcade shops in Brixton Village Market. The corner unit – you can barely call it a restaurant, but rather a cross between street-food stall and Chinese canteen container – is first class for both its food output and as a working show of technical ability and craftsmanship.