The Best French Restaurants In London

The old-school elegance of this bistro above a pub in Farringdon is natural, not forced. White tablecloths sit on each table like crisp bed sheets, lanterns glow at night, and mains of beige and brown—rabbit, bavette, et al—are the stuff of plate-licking dreams. Dates, colleagues, old friends, and new families fill the room. It’s the kind of classic restaurant that takes its chips as seriously as it does its crème caramel. Just know that if you come here for dinner, you’ll end up booking lunch before the night is over.

French in name and menu, but decidedly British in nature, The French is less of an institution and more of a genuine source of London-wide pride. The Soho boozer’s cosy upstairs dining room is similarly wonderful, and has the air of a place that has seen thousands of glasses spilled and hundreds of thousands more poured. The menu is a mix of British and French techniques and combinations. Confit garlic and goats’ curd on toast, say, or apple crumble and calvados custard. Look out for their steak frites day, usually on Thursdays, with pink rib-eye and peerless crispy homemade fries. It’s the best around.

Maison François has being chic down to a fine art. From the warm orange glow of this art deco dining room in St. James’s to eating a plate of ham—pardon, jambon noir de Bigorre—it all feels like a worthy occasion for posing on the banquette seating like Robert Doisneau might pop out of the open kitchen to take your picture. It’s a beautiful space designed for beautiful people to do beautiful things, like eat fried comté covered in yet more comté. Save room for the dessert trolley that gets rolled around like sugared royalty. There’s an unmissable gâteau a la pistache and drawers full of deeply tempting iridescent macarons.

Done right, French cooking is a delight. At 64 Goodge Street, you’ll take a tear of warm complimentary (yes, complimentary) bread, swipe up the remains of scallops with a luscious beurre blanc sauce, and realise that this is some of the finest French food in London. The corridor-sized, dimly lit room in Fitzrovia knows its crowd—those who welcome food so rich it’s debaucherous, and duly delivers. A snail, bacon, and garlic bon bon here, a glass of crémant there.

Planque is probably the most decidedly unclassic restaurant on this list. It’s a grand industrial lair in Haggerston that also acts as a wine club for trainee Bond villains. The vibe is cool to the point of chilly, though the staff are brilliant and highly knowledgeable—you suspect that there is a Master of Wine or two among them—and the food has the ability to be outstanding. Serious grape appreciators and small plates lovers will like it. Look out for any offal on the menu. But if you’re a little less confident, it’s still worth dropping in for a couple of plates and glass at the central sharing table.

If linen curtains on gold rails, blackboard menus, and flickering candles get you going, you’ll love this Borough Market spot. If not, the shatteringly crispy confit potatoes might just do the trick. The bistro has hideaway nooks that are perfect for a tête-à-tête and servers who wink as they top up your wine glass. But it’s the food—the generously salted, creamy butter with fresh baguette, the tender ox tongue draped with chanterelles, the crisp pastry base on the sweet shallot tatin—that really seals the deal.

In the Venn diagram of fans of Pixar's Ratatouille, readers of The Sunday Times, and admirers of Keith Floyd, Les 2 Garçons is firmly in the middle. It’s a pulsating maroon lighthouse that runs on comforting confit duck and Crouch End locals who require a drip of its vin rouge. Don’t be surprised to see the chipper chef come out to explain the blackboard, serve your tartare, and stick around for a chat. Your neighbouring table will also more than likely ask you how the onion soup is (it's wonderful) or whether that’s the duck (it is, and back off).

Casse-Croûte is so charming it hurts. On a corner of Bermondsey Street, this little French spot is home to red and white check tablecloths, a blackboard menu with Garamond calligraphy, and inevitably, London’s highest concentration of Jean-Pierre Jeunet mega-fans. Every starter, main, and dessert has the capacity to knock you into a butter haze and although the menu changes daily, if the glorious double-decker mille-feuille is on, you definitely want to order it. Oh, and whether you’re swinging by for lunch or dinner, book ahead. This charmer is permanently packed.

Going to Chez Bruce is a little like going back in time via Balham. There are suited staff who serve you warm bread. There are couples holding hands across the crisp white tablecloths. There are baked alaskas served all over the humming dining room. You get the feeling that everyone could be discussing what to make of that hot young thing Julia Roberts. The menu is based on the foundation of classic French technique—note the lobster raviolo the size of a tennis ball on the menu. But also has some sometimes good, sometimes odd alternative flourishes: miso glaze, caponata, and the like.

If you’re looking for an evening of charming French farmhouse cosplay, then don a navy work jacket and head over to Victoria. La Poule Au Pot is stuffed to the wooden beams with baskets of dried flowers, hanging grape decorations, and yellowing framed prints. Combine that with ample amounts of butter and bacon, a rich casserole and, of course, chicken in a pot—and you have all the elements of a good night.

There’s nothing subtle about the wooing process at Josephine Bouchon, a Lyonnaise spot in Chelsea. Heavy, red velvet curtains frame the doorway and the dining room is all dangling, low-level lanterns and breathy candle flames. But this isn’t a stuffy place. Champagne arrives with a bowl of moreish pork and duck scratchings, garlic splatters from excellent buttery frog legs onto white tablecloths, and waiters banter with you while whipping out a ruler to measure how much wine you’ve drunk.

Those serious about rooms that make everybody feel like they’re next in line to the throne will enjoy The Midland Grand Dining Room. This brasserie inside the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel in King’s Cross is as regal as a National Trust home and has food to match. There’s crab toast that has as much flavour as the room has gold and, like any French restaurant worth its salt, soufflé du jour. It’s a silly, special occasion-feeling place, but swing by for lunch if you want something a little more affordable.

Soif is an absolute delight. It’s one of those little places where you clock the blackboards, eye up the other guests’ white wine mussels, and instantly know that this is somewhere you’ll be heading back. Back with a date. Back with friends to share the juicy rotisserie chicken. And back to eat enough garlic to keep Smint in business for the next decade. The Clapham room is usually packed full of locals on date night, and three generations making their way through three bottles of beaujolais.

Nestled in a Bermondsey park, Pique-Nique is date night ready. Everything from the fairy light-strewn conservatory which wraps around the building to the exposed wooden beams and charming service, creates a place primed for wooing. Even the hearty French mains like glistening, juicy roast chicken or tender chateaubriand are “to share for two”. It’s ideal for an anniversary meal when you still want to wear your comfy jeans, or, just take yourself out for some good bistro-style food and a glass of pinot noir—they’ll adapt most of the mains for one.

Enter Mon Plaisir, in the heart of Covent Garden, and prepare to be swept away by the vintage poster-plastered dining rooms, nooks, and crannies. It’s all unabashedly kitsch in a way that works. Embrace the lace doilies on plates, bring friends, family, or a date. The confit duck or coq au vin won’t change your life (although the rich French onion soup is excellent), but the retro interior, charming service, and cheeseboard served tableside will stick long in your mind.