After COVID reschedules, special occasions, and a broken fridge, I recently found myself accidentally booked in to eat out in Bristol three days in a row.
I’m framing like it’s an unfortunate circumstance to find one in — I promise it’s not.
My experience at the three different restaurants were entirely different, each with their own merits. My dinner at Marmo was homely and hearty; my lunch at Bulrush was intruiging; my night at Wilsons was almost flawless.
But as someone who grew up just outside of Bristol, I found my enjoyment entirely at odds my experience of dining in the city just 10 years ago.
Almost every weekend began with a short trip into the city. Days began with bacon sandwiches on doorstop white slices, with builders tea in translucent mugs from Brunel’s Buttery overlooking Harbourside.1
Lunches were never remarkable. Dinners varied from three-meat roasts and delightfully slimy war tan hor from the now closed HK Diner on Park Street — when my dad needed brief transportation back home — to Harvey Nichols’ second-floor restaurant for forays into luxury on very special occasions only.
Both of my parents are food lovers, so naturally the apple wasn’t going to fall far from the tree. But food in the city was never bad. But it was never exceptional, either.
I feel the opposite way now.
Just before I moved to Wales, there were signs that something was changing. Pete Sanchez-Iglesias had started to really embrace his stride. Josh Eggleton had started to build his now ever-expanding restaurant group.
I wasn’t there to experience it firsthand anymore. Observing from afar came with its benefits, though. It sparked envy, jealously, and pride in equal measures to see the city’s food scene grow in quality and quantity at an unparalleled rate.
For many reasons, my short trips back to the city are now more frequent than ever. They’re also almost entirely based around where I’m eating.
To me, Bristol is one of the most exciting places to eat in the UK right now, unchained2 by the issues that continue to plague the country’s other largest cities.
As a result, I’m often asked where the best restaurant in the city is.
The honest answer is that I don’t know. It’s a coward’s answer, but the truth is that I change my opinion on the matter every week.
But here’s a short list of some of my favourite places to eat in the city for a range of different price points and situations.
Wilsons — if you have time for one meal in Bristol, make it here.
There is little to fault about Wilsons. I have eaten there twice in the last 6 months, and both have been nothing short of exceptional.
Receiving the coveted Green Star from Michelin this year, Wilsons delivers a menu made entirely from ingredients either grown by themselves or farmed locally and sustainably.
At just £60, you’ll have access to some of the highest calibre of cooking in the city at an insane price point, too.
From wild garlic soups, sat atop a soft-poached Legbar egg with the rigidity of custard, to salted custard crème brûlée with Earl Grey ice cream. Every dish is a symphonious ensemble, and I’d be truly shocked if you don’t finish your time there in awe, yearning a return.
Saying that, I don’t want to call Wilsons my favourite restaurant in Bristol. This is not food you could eat every single day, given its nature as a tasting menu.
But you’re not going to find a more interesting meal, made with the best ingredients, executed so perfectly for the same money anywhere nearby.
Marmo — Italian-inspired easy cooking with serious punch in the city centre.
One by one, many city centres are surrendering to the full-frontal assault of penetrative, feckless chains, whose standardised offerings ensure your options for eating out remain culinarily arid.
Fortunately, Bristol’s city centre options are better than they ever were. Just a stone’s throw from St Nick’s will find you at the doorstep of Marmo.
Its exterior is understated, compared to its high-walled, beautiful dining room. Within, food is Italian-inspired dishes, focusing on simplicity.
I use Italian-inspired as opposed to just Italian here, as it navigates through the country’s palate while deliberately avoiding the Anglo-classics.
However, in true Italian fashion, it’s another restaurant that leans heavily on high-quality produce treated with simplicity and care. Its pasta is some of the best in the city — better than a few of the dedicated pasta restaurants.
The rabbit ragu with cochliglie was a particular standout, balancing the fine line between delicate and hearty. I’d even go as far to say the ricotta ravioli here are probably the best I’ve ever had.
Dinner here, with a glass or two of wine, will probably set you back about £50 a head.
Sonny Stores — the biggest flavours served in the tiniest home.
At times, my Twitter account feels like a PR agency advertising on Sonny Stores’ behalf. I unashamedly love this place, and visited three times in three months, despite living in a completely different city, or country for that matter.
I have used, and will continue to use, every opportunity to advocate for visits here.
I happened to have my first visit the week before Jay Rayner came to town, and found myself immediately falling for it. Tucked away on the corner of a residential street perpendicular to North Street, you are immediately surrounded by the comfort of dining in someone’s living room.
The food perfectly reflects that too. Trips here begin with an almost ritualistic photo of the blackboard on the wall, listing the daily rotating menu, shortly followed by a earthy chickpea pancake amuse bouche.
The pasta dishes are varied but simple, each punching well above their weight. In summertime, its salads (pictured at the top of article) are vibrant, sharp and visual marvels.
Its pizzettas (pictured above) are angelic and pillowy, despite their doughy appearance. They come topped with the joys of lardo, anchovies, or whatever the kitchen feels like putting on them. I’ve had one every time, and I’ve never had any dud topping combinations.
Of all the places I wish I could bring to Cardiff, this is probably at the top of the list. It’s homely, soulful food that is almost impossible to be disappointed with.
Especially as the bill is never more than around £50pp, this is the kind of place I could actually eat every single day, provided I booked well enough in advance.
I really love it here.
The negronis are killer, too.
littlefrench — classically French flavours catapulted into the modern age.
I’ve been fortunate enough to visited Paris quite a few times thanks to family living there. I’ve eaten in the largest, most grandeur halls as well as shoulder-to-shoulder in a room no larger than the boot of a Nissan Micra.
Eating at littlefrench truly feels like being transported to a tiny, Parisian bistro. Its dining room even sports fantastically bad atmospheric lighting, making any photos you try to take of the food a blurry mess.
That’s the charm of it though. Its dishes pack heaps of salty and brash flavours, executed with the best of technique by its team of chefs who are clearly clued up on their classical French methods.
On the menu you’ll find a host of French classics, from a huge two-person cote de boeuf to Duroc pork chops, wood grilled pyrenean lamb leg and roasted monkfish.
It may set you back a little more than the previous entries on this list, but you’ll never leave littlefrench hungry, or unsatisfied with its food and service.
I’d argue its probably one of the most romantic places for a date night in the city, if you’re lucky enough to get a table, or a date for that matter.3
Adelina Yard — one of the best value, creative lunches in the city centre.
This city centre restaurant has somehow long evaded my radar, and unfairly so.
Situated just beside Queen’s Square beside the river, a recent lunch here was one of the most interesting, and best value meals I’ve ever had in the city centre.
Similar to Wilsons, this tasting menu was thoroughly complex and expertly constructed, without diving head first into the showmanship that a lot of tasting menus decide stick to still.
The picture above was actually a bonus element to the lamb course that came along — a skewer of confit lamb, with a layer of anchovy and caper mayonnaise, topped with a potato and turnip puff.
It was one of the best singular bites I’ve ever eaten in Bristol.
The lamb, barely able to retain its form under its own weight, delivered a fattiness, enhanced by the anchovy and caper mayo, resulting in the most ridiculous umami bomb one could ever imagine. I’d pay for lunch again, just for another one of those skewers.
Other courses, like a peanut butter biscuit, topped with chocolate ganache and a sake emulsion were just as remarkable, challenging the senses through incredibly skilled cooking, playing on what is effectively the flavour profile of a Snickers bar.
Service is also relaxed while also attentive. By all means, this is fine dining, but away from the stuffy, uptight bells and whistles of traditional white-linen places.
At just £38 for 5 courses, it’s well worth a stop for a brief lunch, especially as you won’t have to go out of your way to get there if you’re already in the city centre.
Hart’s Bakery — pastries galore.
I don’t always eat in restaurants. In fact, 98% of my meals are made from the comfort of my own kitchen. I just don’t write about them, or post pictures of them, because, while they are delicious, to me at least, they are unbothered by the desire to be aesthetically pleasing, so are frequently ugly.
I don’t bother making pastries, though. They’re one thing I’m almost entirely happy to leave to the professionals. In the case of Hart’s Bakery, it’s incredibly obvious that any attempts to make them at home would prove almost entirely futile.
This tiny bakery, sat underneath an archway at Temple Meads, has some of the best pastries around. Buttery, flaky, salty — I won’t bore you with the limited lexicon of pastry-adjectives that you’ve heard and seen a thousand times before.
It’s other options are just as fantastic, with a range of sausage rolls, cakes, and more all guaranted to satiate and cure whatever ails you.
Make sure you’re early if you want to grab one, though.
No bookings, but here’s the website.
Bar 44 Clifton — uncomplicated, addictive tapas at a great price point.
Tom, Owen, and Natalie of the 44 Group are giants of Welsh hospitality. Despite now running multiple locations across South Wales — as well as being in the process of opening a boutique hotel — I’ve never left either a Bar 44 location or Asador 44 unsatisfied.
Bar 44 in Clifton is their only English location, and is proof that expansion and technically becoming a chain doesn’t have to mean a drop in quality or care.
The menu spans the classics, with croquetas packed with jamon, boasting a deep saltiness, alongside tortillas with a barely set middle.
Alongside the traditional elements, you’ll also find a seasonal rotating section, where the real gems lie. There’s also a range a few modernised takes that show-off the Spanish flavour profiles in non-traditional ways.
The menu is also fairly priced, and can quite happily feed yourself for under £20 including a drink.
While there, you can also enjoy the wide range of own-branded items, like the group’s sherry, red and white wines.
They also run their own take on a Sunday roast, which is a serious heavy-hitter.
The Blaise Inn — great cooking from one of the city’s exemplary chefs.
One of the main reasons we chose to spend nearly every celebratory meal in Bristol at Harvey Nichols’ second-floor restaurant was due to Louise McCrimmon being behind the pass. She has long served Bristol as one of its best chefs, unbeknownst to those outside of the city, or the know.
There was never anything overly fancy or overly-cheffy4 about Louise’s dishes, but each one is seriously well constructed and very well balanced.
I was very saddened to hear that pandemic had resulted in her redundancy. I was happy, however, to learn that she had found a new kitchen at the Blaise Inn, with her next door neighbours Nicola and Peter Gilbert.
The Blaise Inn is probably the furthest out of all of the restaurants I have mentioned here, and as a result often fails to register on lists produced by other people.
The restaurant’s seating area is barely separated from its lovely and quaint pub, and its food is matched accordingly. Louise’s food offerings are robust as they ever were, with mains like confit duck with garlic and duck fat potaotes fulfilling that soul-warming criteria with flying colours.
I’m yet to try a Sunday Roast here, but I just have that feeling that it would be one of the best.
It’s well worth the short travel to, even if just for a pint or two in a very nice pub.
Bosco Pizzeria — good pizza.
Inspired by both the pizzas of Naples and New York, Bosco succeeds in scratching the itch of when you just want a mess of charred mass of tomato and cheese, without the inevitable regret the next day.
With a range of toppings available sat on the perfectly leoparded crusts, there’s really not much to complain about. Especially when they offer lunch of two courses for £13, everyone is a winner.
You don’t need me to describe good pizza.
Located on Whiteladies Road, you’re just a short walk from the Downs or exploring the delights of Redland too.
It also has a locations in Bath, and is expanding to Cheltenham soon.
Pasta Ripeina — good pasta.
The Bianchis group are also one of the largest restaurant groups in Bristol. Now managing five venues with their recently opened Cotto, they offer mostly Italian-ish food.
Pasta Ripeina is the younger city centre brother of their two pasta restaurants, the bigger of which being Pasta Loco. The menu here is awash with fresh pasta offerings, leaning heavily on seasonal produce with big hitting flavours.
I’ve been a few times and have sampled a range of different pasta shapes, sauces and more — all great. Whether it’s hearty dry-aged beef shin morsels or creamy and sharp lemon and ricotta ravioli, you’re guaranteed to be fed well for under £30pp.
This place also introduced me to one of the best hospitality small touches I’ve experienced.
Known as ‘scarpetta,’ — translating as ‘little shoe’ — front of house will observe you devour 80% of your pasta from afar, after which they will eagerly present you with a small piece of foccacia to mop up the excesses of sauce left on your plate, free of charge.
I really wish more places did this.
Paco Tapas — exceptional tapas for special occasions.
Peter Sanchez-Iglesias named Paco Tapas after his father, to both honour him and create a restaurant that honoured the family’s Spanish background. It sits just beside their crown jewel Casamia, inside the ground floor of the old Bristol General.
The tortilla here is a masterclass, complete with a custardy-golden centre that oozes at the mere notion applied pressure.
Seasonal options like Salt Marsh lamb on a bed of romesco, cooked edge-to-edge to a perfect rosy pink underneath a profound charcoal-hit crust, will stay with you on your ride all the way home, and the following days, weeks, and months.
There’s no escaping the fact that this place is expensive, especially compared to other tapas places which offer similar dishes at far lower price points. Just a single croqueta will set you back £3.50.
However, Paco’s possession and retention of One Michelin Star is somewhat deserved, as each dish offered is executed almost flawlessly each time.
It’s definitely a special occasion restaurant, but worth visiting once in a while for fautlessly executed Spanish cooking.
Honourable mentions — good restaurants that are almost worth fully recommending.
Casamia
This place is easily the most creative of all of restaurants in Bristol. It would be very easy to say that it’s technically the best restaurant in the city.
Given its pass is also run by a protégé of Gareth Ward at Ynyshir (who still remains responsible for the best meal I have ever eaten), it may seem a little odd that I haven’t included it on the list.
My first meal here was in 2017, and it was phemonenal. It was creative, exciting, and fantastically technical. It was easily one of my top 10 meals I have ever eaten.However, now sitting at an eye-watering £180pp, it’s just a little too off-the-walls to recommend to people on a list like this.
But should you eat there if you have the opportunity? Absolutely.Bulrush
Of my three-day food fiesta, Bulrush was the one I was most disappointed with.
I’ve seen Bulrush described as Bristol’s most understated Michelin-starred restaurant, probably due to its relaxed service, decor and generally casual aura. As someone who is profoundly against the strict traditionalism of jacket-only poncery of classic dining rooms, I actually enjoyed how laid back my experience was.
And, while the tasting menu there had flashes of brilliance, I found many dishes to be lacking the edge and finesse one would expect of food being created in Michelin-starred kitchen.
The food, overall, was good — you’re not going to have a bad meal here, by any stretch. But there are far more exciting tasting menus on offer in Bristol for less money, executed with a greater level of finesse.Pony at North Street
I’ve always been a fan of Josh Eggleton’s food. Like the Bianchis Group, he has slowly been expanding his offerings across the city in recent years.
Evolving from the Pony & Trap in Chew Magna, the Pony at North Street brought its cooking into the city.
Maybe my expectations were just a little too high, given that its predecessor also held One Michelin Star, and was somewhere I had enjoyed a great meal at in the past.
However, my meal here fell short of expectations. It advertises itself as a bistro, but doesn’t really feel like one. It’s definitely a restaurant — and a decent one. But for the price point and its pedigree, I was hoping for something a little more.
It’s worth noting that I ate here just a week or so after it opened, so maybe there were still some teething issues. I’ll probably return soon.Seven Lucky Gods
‘Modern’ Asian restaurants are all the rage at the moment, and none receive more attention on social media in Bristol than Seven Lucky gods.
Serving small-plates of pan-Asian inspired foods, I had my first meal here and had a great time. But I do think it’s overhyped.
Dishes like the katsu arancini are seriously addictive, but its Korean fried chicken missed the mark, lacking on the tang, punch and crunch necessary to ascend it to the place it deserves to be.
That being said, it is the kind of food that would make a perfect pairing for a night of relaxed, social eating in which many drinks are consumed. It’s the exact type of food I would be craving after a few too many drinks in.
It’s just opened a location in the newly refurbished Newport Market, where I will be trying it out again.
A short list of restaurants I’m yet to visit, but excited to try.
Caper and Cure — on the back of repeatedly seeing this place appear on Chris of PXandTarts’ Twitter account, I’m very eager to see what this gem can offer. Side note: his account is a must-follow for anyone in Bristol.
Bertha’s Pizza — I’ve heard this is some of the best pizza in the city. I also saw they run ‘giro pizza’ nights, an all-you-can eat experience where your offerings fall at the feet of whatever the pizzaiolo desires. Sounds like a dream.
Tomo No Ramen — after working alongside Matsudai last year, I’m eager to try the now-permanent restaurant for a bowl.
Pasta Loco — having greatly enjoyed Pasta Ripeina, it only seems fit to try the next step up.
Bokman — this relaxed Korean restaurant has been grabbing attention recently, especially as one of the only six restaurants to make into a list of the UK’s top 100 restaurants. Particularly as Korean food has been growing in popularity over the last few years, with Cardiff’s offerings being almost non-existent, it’ll be great to try it there.
Souk Kitchen — with locations in both Southvile and Clifton, I’ve long wanted to try this casual Middle-Eastern restaurant for its colourful bowls, with hummous, zatar flat breads and more.
I’m very happy that this place has survived the onslaught of the last few years.
(for now)
It felt incorrect to use ‘catapulted’ when the French invented the trebuc het, the clearly superior siege weapon. But what the help is the past tense of using a trebuchet? Trebuched? Trebucheted? Who knows.
I would like to state on the record how much I despise this descriptive — but it’s the one that best portrays the kind of overly-technical, often superfluous bullshit that plagues a lot of places described as ‘good restaurants.’