Leon D.
Google
We were lucky to snag a table for two during Cornucopia’s first month, and judging by the packed room, we weren’t the only ones keen to see what Clare Smyth’s latest had to offer. Despite its newness, the restaurant already hums with joyful, self-assured energy.
The interior immediately sets the tone. Thoughtful, warm and welcoming, it’s a space that shows real attention to detail, softened by a subtle feminine touch that feels modern rather than precious. You relax the moment you walk in.
Service mirrors that mood perfectly. Friendly, attentive and utterly unforced — less formal dining room, more like being exceptionally well fed at a very stylish friend’s house.
The dedicated potato menu (ten options strong) is inspired and borderline dangerous. I wanted to try them all, and found myself quietly campaigning for a future potato dégustation.
There were standout dishes from the off. The Core fried chicken was a triumph: a perfectly crisp, golden morsel crowned with a generous spoon of caviar. The contrast between crunch and salt, richness and restraint, was spot on — clever, indulgent and completely moreish.
The toad in the hole was another highlight. Black pudding and smoked bacon added depth and warmth, but it was the charcuterie sauce that stole the show — so good we were left wishing for extra bread purely for mopping duties.
Side dishes, so often an afterthought, shone just as brightly. Brassicas with horseradish and lemon cut cleanly through the richness of our Perthshire bavette steak, while the buttered hispi cabbage was tender, sweet and quietly excellent.
Cornucopia isn’t a fine diner — and crucially, it doesn’t pretend to be. Instead, it’s a smart, confident bistro from one of the world’s great chefs, serving food that’s generous, thoughtful and deeply satisfying. Expect this to be one of London’s hottest tables in 2026 — and deservedly so.
