The inspiration for this week’s feature came from something that happened to me last week: I had an evening to myself and, fresh off the train, I stopped for a very quick dinner in one of Reading’s two branches of Nando’s (don’t judge, I like a Nando’s: it’s a very occasional treat). I went for my standard order there and it was, as chains always are, a known quantity and perfectly okay: not amazing, very far from terrible and precisely as it is every time I eat in the Nando’s on Friar Street.

As I was eating I found myself thinking about how chains, like everybody else, have hiked their prices over the last few years. My food cost fifteen pounds – hardly a fortune in today’s money, but I kept coming back to the fact that there were better ways to eat similar food, but higher quality, for less money at one of Reading’s great independent restaurants.

I went home, I posted about that on the ER Facebook page and mused that maybe there was a feature in this, running through the most prominent of the town’s many big chains and pointing people in the direction of equivalents, most of them independent, offering better food and better value. I wasn’t sure whether the idea had legs, but quite a few people told me to write it. So it’s mostly my fault, but you can blame them too.

The reason I initially thought there might be no point to a feature like this was good old-fashioned confirmation bias: I assume that if you read this blog you might already know all this stuff. I do review the occasional chain, if it’s new, small or unusual, but I’ve never made any secret of the fact that the focus of this blog is more on the stuff that gives Reading character and makes it different, and in the most part that means independent businesses.

But quite a few people said that, all the same, they thought it would be useful to have all these suggestions in one place. Besides, I’ve become increasingly aware this year of more newcomers happening upon the blog. Some of that might be the demise of Berkshire Live creating a gap in the market, and some of it seems to be the peculiarities of Facebook’s algorithm, but either way it means this may be useful to some of you.

If it helps a single person have a more interesting lunch or dinner it will have done its job. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve ambled through Christchurch Meadows on my way to Geo Café of a Sunday only to pass more than one person gripping a Costa cup. The popularity of Caversham’s Costa is for me, like the electoral success of Tony Page or the survival of Wild Lime, one of Reading’s great unsolved mysteries.

Sitting comfortably? Right, here we go – ten well-known chains and their excellent alternatives.

THE CHAIN: Nando’s
GO HERE INSTEAD: Bakery House

I don’t mind Nando’s, and it definitely has its place. But wading through my butterflied chicken breast, rice and rainbow slaw my mind kept drifting to Bakery House’s boneless baby chicken. They don’t make you choose between breast, thighs or half a chicken, they just give you the whole lot, marinated, skin scorched, bones removed, fighting for space on a plate with a big pile of vegetable rice and a well-dressed salad. And they give you all that for fourteen pounds, which remains one of Reading’s ridiculous food bargains.

Recent tweaks to the chilli sauce have made it a little punchier, while the garlic sauce is toned down to the extent that you won’t repel people at work; I miss the old one, but I understand why they did it. I know that Bakery House isn’t Portuguese (nor, for that matter, is Nando’s) so it isn’t a like for like comparison, but I still think Bakery House’s chargrilled chicken is miles better than the stuff from Nando’s. And if you want some of the other things Nando’s can offer – halloumi, houmous and pita or even a sandwich made with chicken livers – well, Bakery House does those far better too.

Bakery House
82 London Street, RG1 4SJ
https://bakery-house.co.uk

THE CHAIN: Wendy’s or Five Guys
GO HERE INSTEAD: Monkey Lounge

People complain all the time about Reading having too many burger joints, but actually there are fewer than you might think – since 7Bone left the town centre to cook out of Phantom (and, as a result, give greater priority to Deliveroo) there has been little to challenge the primacy of the big chains – except Honest, which is itself a small chain. Couple that with the closure of Smash N’ Grab earlier in the year and there are probably fewer spots to get a good burger than there have been for a long time. As if to compound that, The Lyndhurst itself does an excellent burger but closes in a couple of weeks’ time.

So my recommendation is the proudly independent Monkey Lounge, a little way out of the town centre on Erleigh Road. Their burger is miles better than it needs to be, given their captive audience of local students drinking the house lager and watching sport on the big screens. Nonetheless it’s a delight and one of the most pleasant surprises I can remember after doing this reviewing lark for a very long time – a very well executed coarse patty, a timeless sesame seed bun rather than modish brioche, bacon and cheese as standard. Even the chips, which are bought in, are thoroughly decent.

Monkey Lounge
30 Erleigh Road, RG1 5NA
https://monkeylounge.uk

THE CHAIN: Pizza Express
GO HERE INSTEAD: Sarv’s Slice at the Biscuit Factory

Again I don’t actually mind Pizza Express at all, although I miss the one on St Mary’s Butts where I had lots of happy occasions: the more soulless one on Oracle Riverside has never done it for me. For that matter, I also have fond memories of many a boozy evening eating Pizza Express’ wares takeaway in the Allied beer garden with a pint of Stowford Press on the go. And again, pizza traders in Reading are fewer than they used to be with the closure of a Pizza Express, Franco Manca and of course Pizza Hut, which had traded in the Oracle since the day it opened. Buon Appetito closing last year reduced the options still further.

It’s too early to judge newcomer Zia Lucia, although it comes highly recommended by hereditary columnist Giles Coren among others. And outside the town centre there are still options, with Papa Gee and the Last Crumb flying the flag north of the river and Vesuvio doing a tidy job out west. But for my money the finest pizza in Reading right now is by Sarv’s Slice at the Biscuit Factory – both the traditional Neapolitan pizza and the comparately recent addition of deep, airy Detroit pizza with its distinctive frico, the crown of cheese that makes it unlike anything else in town.

They also do regular specials, traditional ones like the classic anchovies and capers along with others that push the envelope: I still fondly remember their carbonara pizza, and a never to be repeated Iberian effort with chorizo, confit garlic fried potatoes and smoked paprika aioli which might be the best thing they’ve done. Day to day though, I find it hard to look beyond the diavola with salami and ‘nduja, perfected with a sticky drizzle of hot honey.

Sarv’s Slice
Biscuit Factory, 1 Queens Walk, RG1 7QE
https://www.sarvsslice.com

THE CHAIN: Zizzi, Prezzo or Bella Italia
GO HERE INSTEAD: Mama’s Way

I find Reading’s chain Italian restaurants somewhat interchangeable, a perception which probably isn’t helped by the fact that I haven’t eaten in any of them for the best part of fifteen years: I fondly remember one of the very first Prezzos in Richmond, before private equity bloated and ruined the place. But actually, even with the closure of Coco Di Mama, the chains have won the battle for spend when it comes to Italian restaurants – only Pepe Sale, really, keeps going as a full-on Italian restaurant within the IDR.

That said, my recommendation is to try Mama’s Way in what someone recently described to me as Very Little Italy, that stretch of Duke Street that encompasses Mama’s Way and near neighbours Madoo. It is a tiny place, little more than a hole in the wall with just the three or four seats inside and three stools out on the street. But if you grab one of them you feel like you’ve really hit the jackpot. The Aperol spritz is exemplary, there’s a great selection of wines by the glass and I’ve heard they do a barrel aged negroni too, although I’ve not yet tried it.

There is a small selection of pasta dishes – and pinsa too, if you want something almost as carby. But they also have an incredible array of cheeses and cured meats and will do you a veritable smorgasbord of either or both. With some of these places, like Veeno, I always think it’s a shame to have such a great space but to buy in relatively uninspiring produce. Mama’s Way absolutely gets that when you have the good stuff you just need to serve it up and bask in the reflected glory of your excellent taste and buying power. They do that superbly, and their menu is an excellent shop window for their produce – a shop window which, if you play your cards right, you can eat in, making passers-by jealous.

Mama’s Way
10-14 Duke Street, RG1 4RU
https://mamasway.co.uk

THE CHAIN: Pho
GO HERE INSTEAD: The Moderation

I know this might seem harsh, as Pho is one of the chains many Reading folk like, with good reason. But my standard order there is their fried rice with chicken and dried shrimp, and I was very aware on my visit to the Moderation a couple of weeks back that the Mod’s nasi goreng is far better than Pho’s dish. You get a lot of it, packed with chicken and enormous prawns, with prawn crackers, pickled veg, a fried egg and a chicken satay skewer. If the two dishes were Top Trumps, the Mod’s wins on every category.

Not only that, but for me the pan-Asian menu at the Moderation gives you alternatives to most of Pho’s great dishes and more besides. The rendang is better than Pho’s curry, there are rice and noodle dishes in abundance and there’s even a ramen, if you want an alternative to Pho’s eponymous dish. I would say that I haven’t tried the Moderation’s spring rolls, and it’s hard to imagine that they’re better than either of Pho’s terrific spring rolls, especially the ones crammed with crab, prawns and pork. But given how good the rest of the Moderation’s food is, you might not bet against it.

The Moderation
213 Caversham Road, RG1 8BB
https://www.themodreading.com

OR TRY: Bánh Mì QB

If you think the Moderation isn’t quite a like for like comparison, how about Bánh Mì QB? You have to hand it to this restaurant for having the balls to open a Vietnamese restaurant a couple of doors down from what was previously Reading’s only Vietnamese restaurant. But to me they pull it off and have created an excellent independent alternative. It might not have the polish of Pho, but their spring rolls are also excellent, their crispy roast pork is an utter joy and, unlike their rival, they actually serve bánh mì, one of the great Vietnamese dishes and a genuine lunchtime treat.

Bánh Mì QB
Unit 8, 19-23 King Street, RG1 2HG
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100083120421618

THE CHAIN: Taco Bell
GO HERE INSTEAD: Mission Burrito

Most weeks on a Wednesday or Friday, and most weekends, you can probably go to either Blue Collar’s weekly market or its permanent site on Hosier Street and find someone doing tacos better than Taco Bell’s. Or you could just buy the distinctive yellow packets from Old El Paso, go home and knock something shoddy up in a frying pan: it would still be better, provided everything you used was still in date.

But for a permanent option, I still think Mission Burrito is the right choice. One of the only even vaguely independent restaurants in the Oracle (technically a chain, but there are only four of them), it’s been resolutely doing its thing for many, many years. And it’s still very good and an extremely consistent choice if you want a light meal slap bang in the town centre. I used to love their tacos, but my tastes have graduated to a carnitas burrito with smoky black beans, cheese and chipotle salsa. They’re a handful, and almost impossible to eat tidily but they hit the spot.

I think Mission is always a little forgotten about when people talk about town centre options but even if it’s unshowy it’s very good indeed. It’s seen off many of the restaurants on that bank of the Riverside – Wok To Walk, Franco Manca, The Real Greek – and you wouldn’t rule out it outlasting most of its other neighbours. Except perhaps McDonalds: I suspect that McDonalds, like cockroaches, would even survive a nuclear holocaust. Mission Burrito gets bonus points from me for stocking A&W root beer, possibly my favourite soft drink in the whole wide world.

Mission Burrito
The Oracle Riverside, RG1 2AG
https://www.missionburrito.co.uk

THE CHAIN: Wetherspoons
GO HERE INSTEAD: Oakford Social Club

Have you noticed how Wetherspoons fanboys (they’re always men) are so often awful people? They invariably crop up on social media, the eternal sealions, to defend the pubs, or the way they “rescue” heritage buildings, or stick up for their spiritual king Tim Martin (or “Timbo” as they like to call him). Come off it: Wetherspoons is just Brewdog for penny-pinchers. Personally, I aim never to set foot in one again.

And I know I’m on shaky ground here because although the Oakford positions itself as indie and hipster it is in fact a Mitchells & Butlers pub, part of their “Castle” portfolio which also includes the Hope & Bear. And yet here I am saying you should go here instead of Wetherspoons: why is that? Well, first of all, the benchmark to be better and more palatable than Wetherspoons is not the most exacting standard in the world.

But secondly, the Oakford has acquired the status of Reading institution over the course of over fifteen years opposite the train station, to the point where I don’t think anybody cares that it’s an M&B establishment. And its food is surprisingly good, I think, especially their fried chicken and crispy onions, which are a bit like an onion bhaji that’s had the crap beaten out of it. They have a good-looking menu, from ‘nduja and pecorino croquettes to poutine, schnitzel and beef dripping tater tots. Exactly the kind of stuff you want with a beer in a buzzy pub, and unlike Wetherspoons you can have some confidence that a microwave oven didn’t play a starring role.

Oakford Social Club
53 Blagrave Street, RG1 1PZ
https://www.oakfordsocialclub.com/

THE CHAIN: Costa, Caffe Nero or Starbucks
GO HERE INSTEAD: Coffee Under Pressure

I might be on to a loser with this one because I know some people are very wedded to their enormo-cups of coffee from the three big coffee chains that dominate Reading. It’s a sign of how things change – we used to have four Burger Kings, now we only have the two, we may have lost a Starbucks on Queen Victoria Street (and the one on Oracle Riverside closed this week) but Reading Station has two branches alone. I’ve lost track of the Costas in Reading, and we still have three Caffe Neros.

That’s a lot of places to drink middling coffee. And yet in the time they have proliferated we’ve lost Tamp, Anonymous, the Grumpy Goat and now the town centre branch of Workhouse. Next time an independent coffee place opens, I hope we don’t have to endure the cries of “not another one” from dullards, but I expect we will.

This is all the more reason to spend your money at Coffee Under Pressure instead. Their big and busy branch is the one off St Mary’s Butts, and the outside space is a great summer spot to see and be seen. But my favourite is the one on Blagrave Street, and I love sitting up at the window there on those stools, looking out on the handsome Victorian brickwork of the Town Hall. C.U.P.’s mocha is a work of art, as I’ve said many times, but they also do an extremely respectable latte and some great spanakopita.

Coffee Under Pressure
53 St Mary’s Butts, RG1 2LG and 7 Blagrave St, RG1 1PJ
https://www.coffeeunderpressure.co.uk

OR TRY: Compound Coffee

Almost as good, and definitely among the best coffee in Reading these days, Compound Coffee does a fantastic job operating out of the ground floor of the Biscuit Factory. You have to hand it to the Biscuit Factory – you can have great coffee in the morning, unbeatable pizza for lunch or dinner and then avail yourself of their admirable selection of local beers. I’ve been there loads of times, and I’ve not even seen a film there yet. That might make me a philistine – but at least I’m a well-fed, well-caffeinated philistine.

Compound Coffee
Biscuit Factory, 1 Queens Walk, RG1 7QE
https://www.instagram.com/compoundcoffeeuk/

THE CHAIN: Pret or Gail’s
GO HERE INSTEAD: Shed

I’m treating Gail’s and Pret interchangeably here, even though everyone knows that Gail’s is to Pret what Pret is to Greggs. But for these purposes I’m lumping them into the single category of lunch places with ideas above their station which are remarkably expensive. Gail’s, to be fair, isn’t terrible, although its chairman Luke Johnson is. I have a harder time liking Pret, whose prices have gone up and up and whose sandwiches are claggy, costly and usually sodden with mayonnaise: their coffee has hit the skids too, since they introduced a subscription scheme.

Anyway, I think Shed wipes the floor with both of them. A recent refurb has made their upstairs dining room an even nicer place to while away time, but in nearly twelve years Shed has turned feeding Reading’s discerning lunchgoers into a fine art. The Top Toastie, a magical combination of chorizo, chicken, jalapeños and cheese, is rightly fêted, as is its sibling the Tuna Turner. But Shed doesn’t rest on its laurels and a more recent addition – the Chaat, with samosa, mango chutney, sev and mint yoghurt – is an absolute riot on a plate.

Shed
8 Merchants Place, RG1 1DT
https://theshedcafe.co.uk

OR TRY: Picnic

The other veteran of Reading’s lunch scene, Picnic, is another venue far more deserving of your money than the chain neighbours on what used to be called Coffee Corner. It’s nearly seventeen years old, and on my recent visits it’s been better than I ever remember. They went through a phase where I didn’t much like the seating arrangements but they’ve clearly given that more thought and make much better use of the room now.

Better still, they’ve restored the stools up at the window which gives you one of Reading’s best people watching opportunities. It’s mad to think that I’ve been doing that for the best part of seventeen years, on and off. The coffee is as good as it’s ever been, too, and credit to Picnic for using heavenly milk from Lacey’s, the only place in Reading to do so.

Their food is going through a purple patch as well. The toasted sandwiches are terrific, especially if they have their coppa, burrata and grilled peppers on offer, but the real draw here is the salads which gradually get better and more imaginative. There are always two salad boxes, one of which is vegetarian, but I have an enormous soft spot for their chicken shawarma salad and find it hard not to order it.

I don’t know if there’s a Couscous Marketing Board but if there is, they really ought to put a plaque up outside acknowledging Picnic’s sterling commitment to shifting bucketloads of the stuff over the years. Oh, and the cakes are also great (although the one Pret product I will defend to the death, come to think of it, is their brownie).

Picnic
5 Butter Market, RG1 2DP
https://www.picnicfoods.co.uk

THE CHAIN: TGI Friday
GO HERE INSTEAD: Literally anywhere else in Reading

No, seriously. Don’t act surprised – you do read this blog, don’t you? TGI Fridays was comfortably one of the very worst places I’ve reviewed in 10 years, with dirty glassware, Legendary Glaze that could strip tooth enamel, staff leaving me a voicemail halfway through my meal asking why I hadn’t turned up and sizzling platters that didn’t. Worst of all, the really mediocre food was at elevated prices. I thought it was very expensive for what it was when I went there five years ago so I dread to think what it’s like now, but even if they’d inflation-proofed their menu and you were still paying 2018 prices it would be shocking value.

I’m not saying I’d rather lick a bin lid, but I find it hard to imagine a restaurant in Reading I wouldn’t pick over TGI Fridays: Cosmo, Taco Bell – which is at least cheap – or anywhere with a hygiene rating of zero from the council. The fact that the Oracle bunged Tampopo, a superb restaurant, over half a million pounds to make way for this dross tells you everything you need to know about how the Oracle, ultimately, is not a force for good in this town. Hopefully this piece, Mission Burrito notably excepted, gives you the inspiration to eat elsewhere.

Of all the city guides I’ve written since I put together a guide to Ghent over 5 years ago, easily the most popular have been the ones I’ve written on Málaga. The second edition of my Málaga guide, published two years ago, has had more page hits by far than any of my other city guides and is surprisingly evergreen, with more people reading it last year than the year before, or the year before that. I’ve had far more messages about it than I could ever have expected, often from readers on holiday literally working their way through it. It’s even been cited by other bloggers putting together their own highlights of the city.

By way of illustration, even on my most recent trip to Málaga at the start of December one of my Instagram followers was in the city at the same time as me; I sent her some recommendations, and she had a fantastic dinner at Uvedoble. A couple of weeks before that, a regular reader sent me a picture of his first caña at Meson Iberico, having already told me that he’d checked out three more venues from my city guide. “The omnivore can’t go far wrong in a country where dried ham is used as a seasoning” read another message, accompanied by a picture of a plate of artichokes strewn with matchsticks of jamon. He has a point.

So why am I updating the guide now? A few reasons, really. One is that my latest visit managed to check in on most of my old favourites to establish that they are still standout options, but also gave me a chance to explore new discoveries which merit a mention. In addition, Málaga’s coffee scene seems to have expanded further in the last two years – with some venues expanding or relocating. I was especially sad about that with one of my favourites, Mia Coffee, which had a lovely little spot; I didn’t love their new home, I’m sorry to say, in the same way.

The other reason is a firmly-held belief that Málaga is, as a destination, growing and growing in popularity and feels, to me at least, like a city whose time has come. I have been visiting it for seven years and in that time I’ve perceived a real shift – the days when people would get off the plane and immediately catch a train west down the coast without ever troubling the city seem to be coming to an end. Increasingly I am aware of more people selecting it as a destination and falling under its spell.

And it really isn’t hard to see why. It is Europe’s sunniest city, it’s temperate to visit even in the winter months, it has Moorish architecture, an incredible food market, art gallery after art gallery – what other city can boast the twin artistic patrons of Picasso and Antonio Banderas – a bustling port, a gorgeous and eccentric cathedral and, of course, a beach. And that’s before we get to the food: Málaga may not have the free tapas on offer in Granada, further north, but it makes up for that with many great and imaginative restaurants. Tapas is easy to find, and invariably good, but there’s more to Málaga than tapas. Hopefully this guide goes some way to showcasing that, but even so it still scratches the surface of one of my very favourite places.

In the majority of cases where I’m recommending somewhere which has featured in previous guides the writing is brand new, as is the picture. Where it’s a recommendation from my 2021 guide I’ve tried to make this clear. Right, let’s get started.

Where to eat

1. Taberna Uvedoble

Uvedoble is possibly Málaga’s cleverest modern tapas joint. I first started visiting it in 2017 when it was round the corner and looked a tad functional – their new, bigger home is starting to feel a little more special, with quite a lot of outside space and a lovely spot up at the bar. One of my favourite things about their menu is how inclusive it is – every dish effectively comes in three different sizes so you can share if you like, keep something all to yourself if you’d rather.

Uvedoble’s growing popularity is reflected in two things – that you can now, finally, book online and that even with that luxury snagging a table is harder than it used to be. And having returned many times I’m increasingly struck that the core of its menu hasn’t changed massively between visits.

But perhaps that doesn’t matter because the core of the menu – mini burgers cut with foie, little brioches stuffed with suckling pig, stunning savoury eclairs, oxtail albondigas like rich, crumbly faggots – remain classics. And of course, the nest of deep black squid ink fideua, crowned with baby squid and bordering on a lake of aioli, remains as perfect a plate of food as it was when I first ordered it, over seven years ago.

Taberna Uvedoble
Calle Alcazabilla, 1
https://www.uvedobletaberna.com/en

2. Meson Iberico

Excellent though Uvedoble is, Meson Iberico is my single favourite spot in Málaga to eat and if you could teleport me to any restaurant in the world tonight for dinner, there’s a better than evens chance that I’d pick it. Not just any place though: you go through the front door and on the left are all the conventional tables, with table service, for bigger groups. But no: the place to be, the reason I queue outside ahead of its 8.30pm opening time – with many other people – is for prized seats at the bar. There, with crowds behind you and all the cheffing and action ahead, you have one of the best spots in the world.

It’s such an immerse, brilliant experience that it would be worth doing even if the food was just ho hum. But fortunately, it’s so much better than that. The very best ham, thinly sliced, the fat liquefying on the tongue. A bed of grilled mushrooms scattered with more ham – that ham as a seasoning again – and thick, pink prawns, the perfect dish to forage from. Skewers of tender, spiced lamb with unimprovable skinny chips. Rich, buttery tuna fresh off the plancha dressed with lemon and a salad studded with sweet slices of fried garlic. I’m not sure Meson Iberico knows how to serve a bad dish: if they do, it’s not one I’ve ever ordered.

Towards the end of my last meal there, I saw one of the men behind the bar, with great solemnity and ceremony, preparing a dish I wish I’d ordered. First he expertly chopped an enormous, bulbous tomato into chunks. Then he opened a jar of high grade Ortiz tuna, easing out the pieces and resting them on the tomato. He anointed the whole lot with good quality extra virgin olive oil, for about a full minute after the point where I thought surely he’ll stop now. Then he sprinkled salt, again for longer than I expected. When the dish was served up to some lucky diners I was tempted to applaud.

Meson Iberico
Calle San Lorenzo, 27
https://www.mesoniberico.net

3. Gastroteca Can Emma

If Meson Iberico is my favourite place in Málaga, just about, I suspect that Gastroteca Can Emma, a little restaurant close to Malagueta beach, is Zoë’s. It looks nondescript from outside, on a little side street off the main drag, but it happens to do properly unbeatable food. On previous visits I’ve been quite transfixed by their miniature croquetas, like the best Wotsits in the world, made out of real cheese. I have always ordered one of the three – yes, three – mini hamburgers on the menu. And I always make a beeline for the arroz mare y monte – not quite a paella, per se, but a pan full of salty, savoury rice with prawns, squid, ham and a big pot of aioli on the side. I’ve almost never gone and not ordered it: it really is amazing.

However this time around, on a lunchtime visit, we discovered that the kitchen’s talents extended far beyond that. Bao buns with cochinita pibil were a beautiful surprise and, better still, they served some of the best gyoza I’ve ever eaten – packed with prawns and glazed in a positively compelling, sticky sauce. I still had the arroz though, because if I hadn’t I would have regretted it. But, unusually for me, I went to Can Emma twice on my most recent visit to Málaga.

The second trip, an evening visit, was with my dear friend Jerry and five of his closest friends to celebrate his seventieth birthday. It was a happy accident – his first night in the city was our last night there and so I took it upon myself to find the perfect spot for the occasion. And Can Emma didn’t let me down, catering effortlessly for the vegetarian in our midst, keeping the wine flowing and even taking some photos of the group of us. On that visit I added sweetbreads to the list of things Gastroteca Can Emma did well and I opted for a different main course, secreta iberica with mango chutney. It was gorgeous, but I’m glad I’d already had the arroz that week. Jerry ordered the legendary arroz, though, and loved it. Happy birthday to him.

Gastroteca Can Emma
Calle Ruiz Blaser, 2

4. Casa Lola

I first visited Casa Lola in 2017 on my first trip to Màlaga and since then it has grown like Topsy with multiple branches, including two on opposite sides of Plaza de Uncibay, and another set of restaurants called Pez Lola. But my heart belongs to the original branch on Calle Granada, a brilliantly buzzy taberna which is often full at lunchtime very shortly after opening.

It has become a tradition for me to go there on every trip, usually at the start of my first day in the city, and invariably I order some beautiful ham and a cold vermouth (they do one, chispazo, with Coke which I like even though I probably shouldn’t) and a selection of pintxos topped with prawns, salt cod or morcilla. But I also make sure I order the chicharrones fritos, cubes of deep fried pork belly which are simply a plate of salty heaven. They also do, to my surprise, the best croquetas I had on this trip.

Casa Lola
Calle Granada, 46
https://tabernacasalola.com

5. La Cosmopolita

If you tire of tapas, and small plates, and sharing everything, La Cosmopolita is the place for you. The most high end outpost of chef Dani Carnero’s mini empire, it’s serene, grown up and marvellously chic. The food happens to be exceptional.

I loved molletas, ethereal yet crusty rolls packed with tuna tartare and a warming mayo. Salmonete torched at the table, sashimi grade stuff, came with chopsticks and a dipping sauce of soy, orange juice and fish liver which cut through and fleshed out at the same time. And my main course, sweetbreads with brown butter and capers, might well have been the best sweetbreads I’ve eaten: soft and yielding where they should be, but caramelised and intense at the edges. The only place that’s come close to that quality is Parcelles in Paris, another hugely accomplished restaurant.

On my previous visit to La Cosmopolita I had been forced to sit there watching Zoë make short work of the best dessert I’ve never ordered, an ambrosial cheesecake made with payoyo, a local goat’s cheese. I’d never tasted a cheesecake like it, and I made myself a promise that if I ever went back and it was on the menu I would order it and enjoy every mouthful. On this trip I did exactly that, and next time the battle will be trying not to order two pieces.

I also have to mention the service, which was effortlessly charming and affable and came from Victor, a larger than life character who regaled us with stories of his time working in the U.K., in Tunbridge Wells. He had that authoritative air about him where he could say: no, you don’t want to order that, or definitely try this, or this is how many dishes you need and you almost obeyed without question. What Tunbridge Wells quite made of Victor, and vice versa, was something I found myself wondering. But their loss was Spain’s gain, and ours too for that matter. And, as he said to us during our meal at La Cosmopolita, there really is something magical about Málaga.

La Cosmopolita
Calle Jose Belgrano, 3
https://lacosmopolita.es

6. Palodu

Most of my meals, on my most recent trip, were emphatically casual dining. That’s not to say that the flavours weren’t great or the presentation, in places, beautiful, but it does mark out Palodu, a recommendation from one of my Spanish followers on Instagram, as a very different proposition. Make no mistake, Palodu is aiming for a Michelin star and everything about it points to that. The room is hushed and stylish, the tables big and beautifully spaced. The service is attentive, the ratio of staff to diners close to one to one. From our table, Zoë could see the open kitchen and watch the ceremony of dishes being painstakingly prepared and plated: Palodu is a plates with tweezers kind of a restaurant.

That’s not normally my cup of tea – I like a meal like that a couple of times a year – but Palodu was brilliant at it and I’m so glad I picked it. Across fifteen courses, including snacks to start and petits fours to finish, we were treated to an array of techniques and combinations from a kitchen absolutely at the top of its game. I took photos but not notes, and for once I suspended my critical faculties and just immersed myself in the experience. It was a wonderful fever dream of food – of fish precisely and perfectly cooked, of tiny lamb meatballs in a terrific sauce, of squid cooked simply and presented with a rich slick of sauce and translucent slices of mushroom.

And the wine pairings (yes, it was a splurge) were phenomenal including, for one course, a 1981 Riesling extracted by Coravin which was one of those wines you only encounter a couple of times in your life. Almost as good as the local Moscatel that accompanied our two desserts – I loved it so much that I was delighted to find it on sale, a few days later, at Vertical, the next entry on the list. We bought two bottles for the journey home, and packed them even more carefully than usual.

Palodu
Calle Sebastiàn Souviròn, 7-9
https://www.palodurestaurante.es

7. Vertical

One of the restaurant bloggers who used my previous guides for tips on where to eat in Málaga was Cardiff-based Gourmet Gorro. But he returned the favour, because when he visited in 2022 he wrote positively about this natural wine bar in the old city. And I’m really glad he did, because I absolutely loved it – more, I suspect, than he did. It’s a lovely space with high tables and stools, tasteful and muted, and it does a gorgeous range of wines by the glass (it also sells them to take home: I gladly took advantage of that).

But more even than the wine, the food itself justifies a visit. Cecina croquetas were a compact delight, but even more phenomenal was a tomato tartare made with three different types of tomato on a fragrant base of crushed potatoes bright with extra virgin olive oil. A pinsa Romana with potato, gorgonzola and guanciale was surprisingly airy and dangerously easy to demolish, as was a dish of punchy sobrasada, cheese and honey on toast. Service was superb, and I loved it to the point that by the end of the meal I was indignant that the place wasn’t absolutely packed.

Vertical
Calle Juan de Padilla, 13
https://www.verticalmalaga.es

8. Freskitto

When it comes to ice cream, traditionalists go for Casa Mira, still going strong on Calle Marqués de Larios after more than a century. I’ve heard good things about the chain Bico de Xaedo, which had a branch literally a minute from my apartment. But my loyalties are with Freskitto which has two spots on Calle Granada – one a kiosk, the other with a handful of seats inside.

Service is superb, and Freskitto’s stuff really is top notch – closer in texture to gelato than ice cream and sheer joy to eat. I’ve pretty much narrowed my order down to a chocolate/dulce de leche combo, though I occasionally dabble with something else. Grabbing my paper cup and sitting just opposite, round the corner from El Pimpi, eating Freskitto’s beautiful ice cream and gazing up at the cloudless blue sky is one of my favourite Málaga memories.

Heladeria Freskitto
Calle Granada, 55

9. Mercado Atanazaras

Not content with being a mini Barcelona, Málaga also boasts a mini Boqueria in the shape of the handsome and hugely likeable Mercado Atarazanas. You can buy pretty much anything there – from just-landed fish to pig’s trotters, from freshly sliced jamon to salted almonds shining with oil. 

But the real draw, for me, is Central Bar in the corner of the market. There you can stand up at the bar, drink your vermouth or your caña and get stuck into the incredible array of fresh fish and seafood under the counter, or have charcuterie, cheese and all the other main Spanish food groups. On my 2021 visit we had tuna steaks, cooked simply, scattered with salt and served up with sensational tomatoes and padron peppers, another exemplary illustration that less is often more.

But it wasn’t just about the fish: chicharrones de Cadiz were utterly delicious but a completely different kettle of pork to their Casa Lola cousins – less scratchings, more a high definition porchetta. The four of us lunched like kings for just over a hundred Euros, and my only regret is that I didn’t find a way to go there every day. I visited the market again in 2023, but just to buy supplies, and although that corner bar was calling to me we had other lunch plans. They were good enough, fortunately, to dispense with any regret.

Mercado Central de Atarazanas
Calle Atarazanas, 10

10. La Cheesequeria

La Cheesequeria, a cheesecake cafe on Calle Carreteria, was another recommendation from the Instagram follower that tipped me off about Palodu. And given how much I’d loved Palodu, and my cheesecake from La Cosmopolita, I made a point of stopping off there to pick up a slice of cheesecake to enjoy in the comfort of my apartment. It was also a payoyo cheesecake and if it hadn’t been for La Cosmopolita it would have been the best cheesecake I’d ever eaten. Instead it will have to settle for being the second best.

La Cheesequeria does both sweet and savoury cheesecakes. I imagine the latter, some of them looking on the sweet side even for me, do very well locally but I was drawn to the savoury ones. Next time I’ll eschew the payoyo and go for a something with blue cheese – don’t knock it til you’ve tried it, blue cheesecake is out of this world – or the thing that nearly swayed me on this visit, a cheesecake made with 24 month aged Parmesan. That I can’t even imagine what that would taste like is, to me, reason enough to try it.

La Cheesequeria
Calle Carreteria, 44
https://www.lacheesequeria.com

Where to drink

1. La Tranca

La Tranca remains one of my favourite bars in the whole wide world, a scruffy and vibrant place which welcomes anyone who wants to drink vermouth or beer, eat good food and enjoy people-watching amid a crowd who all have the same laudable priorities. The music is Spanish, and the LPs behind the bar are a retro anorak’s dream. I can honestly say that this is a happy place at the epicentre of a happy place, and all my visits in 2021 and 2022 were superb fun.

It is a tribute to its growing fame, and I think the growing popularity of Málaga in general, that every time we wandered past on our most recent visit, daytime or evening, it was too rammed for us to find a space there.

Although you can drink beer or vermouth here my preferred drink is the aliñao, a mixture of vermouth, gin and soda which slips down dangerously easily. After a couple of them, you find your life goals slowly shifting from whatever they were before to “how can I buy an apartment within stumbling distance of La Tranca?” And that’s without talking about the food – wonderful four cheese empanadas with a tang of blue cheese or some of the best jamon I had on my holiday, sliced there and then and presented glistening on a board, waiting to be pinched between fingers and devoured. And fried olives – did you know fried olives were a thing? Me neither, and now I feel quite devoutly that they should be a thing everywhere.

On a previous visit, we’d bumped into an Italian singer-songwriter who had a long and fascinating story of jet setting from one European city to the next, la dolce vita in action. A tad randomly, we all follow one another on Instagram now, so when we returned to La Tranca in 2021 Zoë took a goofy selfie of the four of us and sent it to him. “That’s really sweet of you!” came the reply from elsewhere on the continent in next to no time. “Enjoy the journey in beautiful Málaga. I miss it.” It has that effect on you.

La Tranca
Calle Carreteria, 92
http://www.latranca.es

2. Antigua Casa de Guardia

Whether this too is a product of Málaga’s increasing popularity, or just that the week I visited in December had two public holidays in it, Antigua Casa de Guardia was also too packed for me to visit this time around. Nevertheless it has always been, for me, the other place in Málaga to stop for a drink – a long thin room with a long thin bar where you pick from the sweet wines, sherries and vermouths in the barrels behind. They keep a running tab on your bar in chalk and as barely anything you can drink tops two Euros you do feel it’s rude not to stay for another, and another.

It’s standing room only, with only a few high tables, so settling in for a prolonged session is probably beyond most people, but to stand there sipping from your copa and watching the bar staff, all of whom seem like they’ve been doing this for years, is a quintessential Málaga experience.

Antigua Casa de Guardia
Alameda Principal, 18
https://antiguacasadeguardia.com

3. Birras Deluxe

Every time I’ve come to Màlaga I’ve visited Birras Deluxe, the craft beer spot on Plaza Merced, and each time I’ve liked it more and more. It came under new management before my 2021 visit and they’ve spend the intervening years making it better and better. It’s still a little small and scruffy but the range of beers is outstanding and it now feels like they’ve got the balance right between classic Belgian beers, which used to dominate their list on keg, and beers from up and coming Spanish breweries, whether they’re local ones like Attik Brewing or ones like Basqueland and Garage with a more international reputation.

In the past my choice of beer venue has been an out and out choice between Birras Deluxe and La Madriguera, just around the corner. On this visit I found Madriguera had slightly lost its shine – their Instagram wrote a cheque that the experience in the bar couldn’t cash – so now it’s an out and out choice between Birras Deluxe and the next place on my list.

Birras Deluxe 
Plaza de la Merced, 5
https://www.birrasdeluxe.com 

4. Central Beers

Another Gourmet Gorro tip, I’d always overlooked Central Beers on previous visits to Málaga, thinking it was too big, too Belgian-focused, not quite authentic enough. Well, that was my loss because I dropped in their twice on my most recent holiday and both times it was excellent. It’s spacious, with plenty of big, sturdy tables. The table service is excellent and efficient. It’s a lovely place to while away an evening and the beer list is superb, featuring lots of breweries I’ve never heard of like Ireland’s Hopfully Brewing or the Basque country’s Laugar. If that isn’t enough, the fridge had a lot of strength in depth, including an imperial stout by French brewery Prizm, based not far from Montpellier, that might have been my beer of the holiday.

The other thing I loved about Central Beers was its surprisingly good and very broad menu featuring perfect beer food and bar snacks. Much of it is international in nature – more gyoza, again pretty impressive, or gnarled karaage chicken with a thick teriyaki-style sauce and slivers of apple. But the battered salt cod, served simply with aioli, brought it all back home. They also, and this is quite rare for Malaga, have a half-decent vegetarian offering which comes in handy if you’re out for dinner with someone who wants a little bit more than another portion of patatas bravas.

Central Beers
Calle Cárcer, 6
https://centralbeers.com

5. Casa Aranda

In the old days there were two places for churros in Málaga, Cafe Central and Casa Aranda. And then, tragically, at the start of 2022 Cafe Central closed because of a dispute with the landlord: how very Reading. It’s now a purgatorial looking “English-style pub” called “John Scott’s” owned by the Swedish company behind Kopparberg, which in my book makes it inauthentic in about half a dozen ways: if you’re tempted to visit it while you’re in Málaga, seek professional help.

Anyway, that just leaves Casa Aranda which fortunately is excellent. It’s grown and grown to the extent where it appears to take up a whole street and the waiters hang around at one end, managing an orderly queue to find you a table. Even though it looks rammed the process is impressively brisk, so you’re normally seated in no time. If you’re lucky, you’re outside with some sunshine, a view and some people watching opportunities. If you’re less fortunate you’re ushered into a slightly unlovely room. Either way, the churros are champion.

Casa Aranda
Calle Herrería del Rey, 3
http://www.casa-aranda.net

6. El Pimpi

El Pimpi is a Málaga institution, to the extent where including it in this guide is a little obvious. A huge, sprawling bar with lots of little rooms and corridors, and a lot of outside space looking out on the Alcazaba, I surprised by how much I liked it. It was touristy, but not to its detriment, and it had all the things Antigua Casa de la Guardia was lacking, like seats, and toilets you could actually bring yourself to use.

My glass of Pedro Ximenez had that sticky, syrupy quality and the richness of thoroughly coddled sultanas and I would happily have stayed for more. There’s always next time, as I increasingly told myself as my holiday drew to a close. Antonio Banderas, a native of Málaga, is a big fan (he allegedly owns an apartment overlooking the bar), so there are a lot of pictures of him on display. A lot. Many of the barrels are signed by celebrities – including, after he stopped by on his recent Channel 5 series about Andalusia, Michael Portillo of all people.

El Pimpi
Calle Granada, 62
https://elpimpi.com/en/

7. Santa Coffee Soho

Santa has grown, to the extent that it now has three branches – one big one near Atarazanas, a smaller one near the cathedral and my favourite, in Soho. There are usually seats outside, the people watching potential is exceptional and their coffee is solidly, reliably excellent. Although I’ve never eaten a full meal there the brunches look decent, and I do have a soft spot for their alfajores – a hefty, delicious biscuit enrobed, as marketeers are wont to say, in chocolate.

Santa Coffee Soho
Calle Tomás Heredia, 5
https://santacoffee.es

8. Next Level Coffee

Part of the continuing explosion in Málaga’s coffee scene, Next Level was a new one on me and has two branches. The original one, on Calle Panaderos near the market, is more rough and ready. The second, which is a little more upmarket and has some excellent outside space, is on Calle San Juan and is all round a little nicer. Both, and this is the important bit, serve really impressive coffee: two top-drawer lattes cost a little over five pounds.

They also sell beans to take away, and the ones we bought, from Rotterdam’s Manhattan coffee roasters, might well have been the best coffee I had at home in 2023. Spain is very lucky that this thing called the Common Market allows them to buy the best coffee from anywhere in Europe without worrying about taxes and delays and paperwork. I can’t see it catching on here, more’s the pity.

Next Level Coffee
Calle Panaderos 14/Calle San Juan, 27

9. Kima Coffee

Kima, which is not far from La Cheesequeria, was the underdog coffee house that I really grew to love on my last trip to Málaga. It’s small – little more than a kiosk, although there are stools for three people inside. In reality the clientele often stand up at the counter and chat away to their barista until the next lot of customers come in, which I found really likeable. It reminded me a lot of Mia Café, which I loved in their old home, and I suppose like Mia if they are successful they will move to a bigger place which I might like less and make more money, which to be fair is kind of what they’re supposed to do. I hope they do, but I’m glad I got to enjoy their coffee before they hit the big time. Two lattes here – brace yourself – will set you back less than four quid.

Kima Coffee
Calle Carreteria, 51
https://kimacoffee.com

10. El Ultimo Mono

El Ultimo Mono translates as “the last monkey”, for reasons I still haven’t managed to figure out. This was my go to place for coffee on the move on previous visits to Málaga, but when I went in 2021 I found that it had moved location. Its new home, tucked off a main street, slightly lacks the charm of its old one, but it’s got a little outside space and has developed quite a nice cosy feel.

Anyway, the coffee is still rather nice and a sensible size for drinking on the go. And if you have it in, it comes in the most beautiful cups: I very nearly went up to the counter and asked where they’d got them from.

El Ultimo Mono
Calle Duende, 6

(Click here to read more city guides.)

One final bit of gastronomic navel gazing to close out the year: it feels like the blog has been a little (by which I mean “even”) more inward-looking than usual. That has a lot to do with the tenth birthday celebrations and a series of pieces covering Reading’s game-changing restaurants, its saddest closures – which of course went to print before the awful news from the Grumpy Goat – and Reading’s 50 best dishes. The latter in particular risks having some overlap with this year’s awards, so whatever you do don’t scurry off to read those posts just to point out that the gongs I’m giving out today don’t bear close enough relation to what I said in September; three months is a long time in Reading restaurant politics.

As I said in my round-up of 2023, it’s been another extraordinary and record-breaking year on the blog and although I’ve cast my net more widely this year, travelling to Oxford, London, Bristol and – no, this isn’t a typo – Swindon in search of good restaurants to review, there have still been an enormous amount of terrific dishes on display in Reading.

Some, sadly, were available when the year began but aren’t as it ends – the beautiful pizzas at Buon Appetito, for instance, Cairo Café’s cracking shawarma, the Reuben at the Grumpy Goat or San Sicario’s white crabmeat tumbled onto rosti. And other dishes were on menus but have since been whipped off to make way for the new (those troublemakers at the Lyndhurst are particularly prone to this, much to my chagrin).

But even with all that said, deciding these awards has been every bit as difficult as ever. Sometimes it’s hard enough to pick the best dish offered by a particular restaurant – especially with the likes of Reading’s holy trinity, Clay’s, Kungfu Kitchen and the Lyndhurst – let alone the best dish of the year in the whole of town. Those three restaurants, to me, still represent the apex of Reading’s food scene but, I have to say, there’s an awful lot of strength in depth when you consider all the other independent restaurants, pubs, cafés and bars in town.

And when Reading doesn’t quite have what you want, well, the Elizabeth Line is making it easier and easier to find it elsewhere; more people may commute into Reading for work than out of it, but I do still worry that, far from bringing the brightest and best to Reading, Crossrail might have the opposite effect. Maybe this time next year my awards will be a series of dispatches from Hounslow and Farringdon rather than Tilehurst and Woodley. Stranger things have happened.

But anyway, let’s celebrate the best of the year from a town which still, very much, contains the capacity to surprise and delight. And before I start opening virtual envelopes, let me also wish you all a very Happy New Year – whether you’re down the pub, living it up in a tap room, out for a fancy meal or sitting at home on the sofa watching When Harry Met Sally. Given that the latter is one of my very favourite ways to see out the year, top marks to any of you going down that route. Wherever you are and however you celebrate – or don’t – I shall raise a glass to all of you on Sunday night.

STARTER OF THE YEAR: Korean chicken wings, the Lyndhurst

I’ve had these a lot in 2023. There was a period when they were on the main menu – replacing the Lyndie’s karaage chicken, I was quite upset about that at the time – and then they just cropped up on Wednesdays when the pub does a portion of wings and a pint for a tenner. That, like so much the Lyndhurst does, is a bargain so ridiculous that you could be forgiven for wondering how they make money.

I have never been a big fan of chicken wings and the reward to faff ratio they seem to embody. They’re up there, for me, with stuff like crab and lobster where I want somebody else to go to the effort for me. And yet I am absolutely hooked on the Lyndhurst’s Korean wings. The sauce has that complex, savoury depth that only gochujang can offer and it’s remarkably easy to plough through ten of the blighters almost without noticing.

If they take these completely off the menu next year and put the karaage chicken back on I will be just as devastated, and then I’ll fall in love with the replacement all over again. Korean food is having a bit of a moment in Reading, with two new places opening in the second half of the year. But trust the Lyndhurst to do it first, and do it better. It’s just typical of them.

Honourable mentions go to Clay’s impeccable pork belly, which is far too nice to share even though I always seem to end up sharing it with someone when I go there, more’s the pity, and last year’s winner, Kamal’s Kitchen’s thhicheko aalu, which remains the best potato dish in town bar none.

CHAIN OF THE YEAR: Honest Burgers

When you consider that the main new chain to open in Reading this year was the deeply mediocre Popeyes, it’s perhaps no surprise that the main contenders for this award are the same as they were last year. But for me, this year, Honest has edged it for consistency. When I’m in town short of time, or coming back from work and not wanting to cook, I have found myself falling into Honest on a fair few occasions, often after a medicinal beer a few doors down at the Alehouse. And it never lets me down.

Honest is in danger of being forgotten these days, because it’s been part of the scenery so long. I can’t remember the last time I went when it was heaving, but it’s never empty either and it’s seen off arguably its closest competitor in the shape of 7Bone, which has given up on the town centre and now trades out of Phantom. But in any case I was always on Team Honest and this year, if anything, they’ve improved. Their chicken burger, after a slightly indifferent start, is now on a level with the rest of their menu and now that Wild Weather have upped sticks and moved to Wales the restaurant stocks beer from Windsor’s Two Flints instead, which if anything is a trade up.

Honourable mentions go to Pho, which is very reliable but possibly better as a takeaway option than to eat in, and Shree Krishna Vada Pav, which has become a very enjoyable part of my lunchtime regime.

LUNCH VENUE OF THE YEAR: Picnic

I have visited Picnic a lot more this year: it’s Zoë’s choice of lunch venue, especially when she’s cutting down on the carbs, because their weekly salad boxes hit the spot. Initially I joined her grudgingly, having a little moan about the prices, or the quality of the coffee.

But a lot has changed since I was a regular at Picnic – the coffee is at a different level now, and they’re the only place in Reading I know of that still uses beautiful Lacey’s milk. And the salads get more and more inventive and delicious, whether it’s sticky edged chorizo and butternut squash or warming, sublime chicken shawarma. Their toasties, which also nudge close to a tenner, are a little on the pricey side but they’re also executed superbly: one I had this year with burrata, ‘nduja and peppers, the outside properly buttered and bronzed, was up there with my favourite lunches of the year.

Honourable mentions go to Madoo, still one of my favourite places to while away a lunchtime (although their coffee needs to improve to match their toasties and cannoli) and Shree Krishna Vada Pav. If I’m in a real rush at lunchtime I’ll saunter over just to have one of their vada pav: glorious, affordable carb-on-carb high jinks.

OUT OF TOWN RESTAURANT OF YEAR (BERKSHIRE): Knead Neapolitan Pizza, Maidenhead

The frequency with which I have visited Knead this year has surprised even me. Fancy a quiet few weekend drinks at A Hoppy Place but need to line the stomach beforehand? Knead it is. Want to have lunch with my old friend before going to watch Maidenhead United serve up some absolutely dogshit football at York Road? Off to Knead, just round the corner, first. And when my Canadian relatives were in the country, and we wanted to find somewhere to meet halfway between Reading and their London Airbnb for beer, good food and a proper catch up, Knead fitted the bill superbly.

That makes it sound like the location was everything, but that doesn’t do the place justice. The service is terrific, the specials are great, the local beers by nearby White Waltham brewery Stardust are a treat and they get the basics very right. Much as I love some of the pizzas on offer in Reading there’s still a bit of me that would love to pick Knead up and drop it somewhere convenient in Reading – where O Portugues used to be, for example. They’ve now introduced an anchovy pizza, which pleases predictable me very much, but the “Hello Gourd-Geous” – with pumpkin, blue cheese and ‘nduja – is a knockout.

MAIN COURSE OF THE YEAR: Monkfish tacos, The Lyndhurst

The Lyndhurst has always done tacos well – I fondly remember their shredded pork tacos, in the latter half of 2020 – but the monkfish tacos on their menu until recently were just outrageously good, a high end re-imagining of fish tacos at a crazily approachable price. Generosity doesn’t even come close – each taco was crammed with two huge pieces of monkfish in the lightest of batters, with guacamole, hot sauce and lightly pickled red onions. They were so crammed that rolling them up and eating them was a feat beyond me: I’d have needed bigger hands and a far bigger gob.

Although I’m sad that the Lyndhurst has taken them off the menu – though they may still crop up on the specials menu – it was probably for the best, for my imagination and my bank balance. Because there were many weekday evenings where Zoë and I would begin a conversation, me on the train home and her finishing her shift, and it was only a matter of time before one of us cracked and said “or we could just have monkfish tacos tonight”. Perhaps if it had been on the menu for less time I would have reviewed even more restaurants in 2023. As it is, I am nothing but grateful that I got to enjoy it so many times.

This was an exceptionally hard category to judge and either of my honourable mentions could easily have won it on any other year. One was Clay’s yakhni pulao, a dish which started as a special and graduated to the main menu, a mound of rice cooked in broth and marrow and coronated with a sticky lamb curry, the perfect synthesis of Nandana’s and Sharat’s skills in the kitchen and, somehow, as emblematic of their partnership as the restaurant itself. The other was Bakery House’s boneless baby chicken, a dish which, like Bakery House, is every bit as good as you remember.

CAFE OF THE YEAR: Workhouse Coffee

Despite losing Tamp a few years back and, of course, no longer being able to drink Anonymous Coffee at the Grumpy Goat, Reading remains a superlative place to drink great coffee. And Workhouse is very much the eminence grise of Reading’s coffee scene. For my money it still does Reading’s best latte and even if it’s in a tricky spot with a troublesome landlord and a guano spattered courtyard which isn’t the outside space it once was, it remains a strangely magical place to sit with a contemplative coffee.

I have lost track of the number of coffees I’ve had there – first thing in the morning on my way home from acupuncture, at lunchtime grabbing half an hour with Zoë or on a weekend, pretending to read a paperback while constantly hitting refresh on Twitter. It never lets you down and the service – from Steve, Kirsty, Rachel or any of the rest of their happy brigade – is always terrific. I saw recently on social media that the Oxford Road branch was even open briefly on Christmas morning, which gave me a little proud glow. We’re lucky to have Workhouse, even if sometimes it’s easy to overlook because it’s been there so long.

Honourable mentions go to C.U.P., and in particular its Blagrave Street branch which I really do love, and to Minas Café out in Whitley. I can see myself having more coffees there next year.

OUT OF TOWN RESTAURANT OF THE YEAR (OUTSIDE BERKSHIRE): COR, Bristol

COR was my meal of the year, a rare example of me going somewhere before it was discovered by every Tom, Dick and even bigger Dick. I loved it when I went there in February and reviewed the place, and I made sure that when I went back to Bristol I dragged Zoë and some other friends there. It not only gives small plates restaurants a good name, but everything is so beautifully executed that you could eat three different meals there on three successive nights, never repeat yourself and never have anything short of magnificent.

I know I get occasional stick for reviewing places outside Reading, but you don’t quite know what Reading is missing until you go somewhere like COR and then it does come remarkably into focus: we are missing places like this. I think of everywhere I’ve reviewed in 2023 COR is the one I would most recommend without reservation or qualification, and I would love Reading to have more restaurants even half as good. At my most recent readers’ lunch a couple of the guests told me they’d gone out of their way to visit it earlier that year: that gave me almost as much pleasure as eating there myself did.

Honourable mentions go to Manteca – the best meal out I’ve had in London for many years – and to the gorgeous Los Gatos in Swindon. There may not be a huge amount of reasons to visit Swindon, but when one of them is Los Gatos you don’t need any others.

SERVICE OF THE YEAR; London Street Brasserie

Earlier in the year I had a Saturday to myself and I decided to have a solo lunch, sit at a table for one, sip a glass of red and read Olive Kitteridge between courses. Ironically I only went to LSB because the Lyndhurst was closed for a private function, and they happened to have a table available online there and then. And then I went, and they put me at the best table in the whole restaurant – the big round one in the corner with a view of the whole ground floor – and they were unfailingly lovely from start to finish.

I am absolutely certain they didn’t know who I was, not that I’m anyone. I was just some random Joe who as good as came in off the street and the treatment I had was just fantastic throughout. From my excellent vantage point, I could see that I was literally nothing special. Every table got that attention from a really hard-working, happy team, and I think if you can make a solo diner feel as welcome and looked after as a boisterous, bustling table for six you have the knack of something really important, something not enough restaurants can do. My meal was good but not great – I might well have eaten better at the Lyndhurst, and certainly cheaper – but as an experience it was hard to beat.

It really saddens me to only be able to give this award to one restaurant. Vesuvio and Minas Café, in very different but equally valid ways, are both worthy runners-up in this category. And I have to mention Barista & Beyond here too, because the service (and the experience) there made me think hard about hospitality and how lucky we are that some businesses are so good at it.

DESSERT OF THE YEAR: Peanut butter ice cream, Clay’s Kitchen

Many years ago I held a readers’ lunch at Clay’s and I had one guest at it, a lady called Alessia, who couldn’t eat any of the desserts Clay’s usually does because of her allergies. Nandana made a vegan peanut butter ice cream, just for her, and it was so phenomenal that everybody else had dessert envy. That’s the genius of Clay’s, that they can cater for restrictions and make something which made everyone else feel like they were missing out. Nandana gave me a little bowl of it to try that day, I had a few spoonfuls and then I passed the bowl around because I felt guilty that I had tasted it and others hadn’t.

Fast forward to September, at a lunch to celebrate ten years of the blog, and I asked Nandana to make it again, on the menu for everybody this time. She did, and it was such a hit that it’s now on the main menu so everybody can experience what first Alessia, then some other guests at that lunch, and then a bunch of other diners years later got to try. It is a glossy, rich and beautiful thing and very richly deserves this award. And before any of you say but it’s just ice cream or words to that effect: try it first.

This is another category with entries positively jostling for the top spot. My runners up are Minas Café’s gorgeous, sweet and sunny passion fruit mousse and Sarv’s Slice’s outstanding tiramisu.

NEWCOMER OF THE YEAR: Sarv’s Slice

I quite liked Sarv’s Slice last year when it was a semi-permanent trader at Blue Collar, and I particularly liked their carbonara pizza. I thought it was a clever move for them to take up residence at the Biscuit Factory: I rather liked my pizza there when I visited on duty. But I don’t think I could have realised, at that point, what a boon they are for Reading.

Their pizzas have got better and better – keeping the classics superb but then adding specials which nudge up the quality, pizza by pizza. The carbonara made a brief comeback, but even better was a Spanish special with aioli, confit garlic potatoes and chorizo piperade: a number of Italians who follow the ER Facebook page were up in arms, but I say they were missing out. And then further through the year Sarv’s Slice started turning out Detroit style pizzas – deep pan beauties with an airy base and crispy, cheesy edges. By that point my warm feelings towards Sarv’s Slice had morphed into a full-on love affair. The Biscuit Factory is lucky to have them, as are we.

Honourable mentions in this category go to Minas Café, which to be honest deserves some kind of award just for being Minas Café, and to Vesuvio which really pleasantly surprised me when I went to review it back in October, with no particular expectations.

RESTAURANT OF THE YEAR: Clay’s Kitchen

Clay’s has always been a phenomenal restaurant, right from the start. Some places take a while to find their feet but Clay’s, in terms of the food, had everything spot on from day one. Five years later, they are the restaurant that has put Reading on the map – more than Kungfu Kitchen, despite its brilliance, more than the Lyndhurst, which never gets the credit it deserves, and way more than the Lido, which has burned through chefs and made the most of its connections to the broadsheets but never really lived up to its potential.

But Clay’s wins this award this year because, to me, this year it became the restaurant Nandana and Sharat always wanted it to be. The big, tasteful, buzzy, classy space in the heart of Caversham, with that open kitchen, the gorgeous high tables, that skylight making all the dishes photogenic, the wonderful drinks menu and all those marvellous dishes.

There isn’t any menu in Reading that can quite match Clay’s for quality and depth. And even if I was just talking about their main menu, that would be true. But this was the year that Clay’s also launched a world-beating small plates menu which can match anything you’d get in Bristol or London and, for a while, their equally gorgeous brunch menu. For the time being, Clay’s has scaled back to its standard menu (although, Clay’s being Clay’s, they had a separate Christmas menu, and a separate menu for Christmas Day, and another for New Year’s Eve) but as a statement of intent it showed you exactly what Clay’s is about.

It would grace any town or city in this country, and that Reading has it should be a source of enormous pride. I have loved every meal and every dish I’ve had on Prospect Street this year – and I know I’ve been there far less frequently than many of its adoring fans. But, like them, I can’t wait to see what Clay’s comes up with in 2024.

THE ER ACHIEVEMENT AWARD – Greg Costello, Workhouse Coffee

What is there to say about Greg Costello that hasn’t already been said? Well, I imagine many others are far better qualified to pay tribute to him than I am, but none the less, here goes: when Greg set up Workhouse Coffee, back in the mists of time, Reading was a very different place. There was no coffee scene, and coffee in Reading still meant Costa, Coffee Republic and the retro delights of places like Platters and Chelsea Coffee House. And although the landscape has changed enormously, Workhouse has never lost its place at the heart of things. It remains Reading’s landmark coffee shop, and has influenced countless others – Tamp, Anonymous and C.U.P. would not have existed, but for Workhouse.

That Greg is still visible (well, let’s be honest, hard to miss) in Workhouse is quite an achievement, especially as in the same time he’s done other jobs in coffee like working for Nude. I read a recent review of Gordon Ramsay’s three star London restaurant by food spod Andy Hayler where he called out that Workhouse supply their coffee. “Coffee was from speciality coffee roaster Workhouse Coffee in Reading and was very pleasant” he said, and if you’ve read Hayler as much as I have you’d know that such faint praise is as good as him jizzing in his y-fronts. It made me strangely proud of Workhouse, and Reading, and yet this isn’t something Costello goes on about at all.

He is a complicated and iconoclastic character, which I rather love. My favourite story about Greg – a man who perhaps shouldn’t be allowed near his company’s social media – is when I did a Tweet about Workhouse Coffee back in 2019. I said that you had to hand it to them: that they didn’t have wi-fi, didn’t have a loo, didn’t publish a price list and didn’t take card payments under a fiver. I said I admired their “take it or leave it” approach to customers. Greg responded in classic irascible fashion, missing the point that really, I was paying him a compliment. Because all those whistles and bells, that other cafés might have, were beside the point compared to the quality of Workhouse’s product.

As someone who also occasionally divides opinion – surely not, I hear you say – I recognise a kindred spirit in Greg and I can’t think of a more appropriate recipient for my first ever ER Achievement Award. Not that it will mean anything to him at all: I suspect he either won’t react at all to getting this award or will shrug and say it’s worthless. In this, as in many things, he’s probably right. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve it.

Before we get started on the countdown of Reading’s 10 best dishes – apologies for the delayed start time, by the way, and for keeping you all hanging – I just wanted to say thank you for the fantastic response I’ve had to the series of posts to celebrate 10 years of the blog. I’ve had terrific feedback, some lovely mails, people contacting me to say they’ve made a pilgrimage to check out one of my top 50 dishes, all of the engagement has been marvellous, and very touching. One Reading restaurant who will remain nameless even dropped me a birthday cake, would you believe.

I now plan to celebrate the birthday properly – for the last time, I promise – at the forthcoming ER readers’ lunch and then I’m off on holiday. So you may see a couple of weeks without a post, but I’ll be back before the month is out with new reviews from strange and exotic new places (there’s this town called Swindon, you know – have you heard of it?). Anyway, without further ado here is the top 10. I hope you enjoy it, I hope it contains at least a couple of surprises and I hope it helps you build up a list of places to visit, or reinforces how much you like your own favourites.

10. Pistachio adana, La’De Kitchen

My recent visit to La’De Kitchen established two things in my mind. One was that it wasn’t quite the restaurant it used to be, which is a bit of a pity. But the other was that it still boasted, in the form of its mythical pistachio adana, a dish that on its day could beat almost any other in Reading. It’s a glorious lamb kofte with bulghur wheat and salad, and what used to be a crust of crumbled pistachio has morphed, for the better, into something like a rich, bright green pistachio pesto which renders the very good sublime. Worth the price of admission alone, and worth a journey out to the suburban splendour of Woodley Precinct.

9. Dak-gang jeong, Soju

I raved about this dish back in 2018 when I visited Soju (or The Soju, or whatever it’s called) and I put it on my end of year list. And then, in truth, I forgot about Soju completely: I always had a list of restaurants to review and when I revisited anywhere it was usually one of my cast iron favourites. Somehow, that was never Soju.

Yet when I was putting my long list together, this dish nagged at the corners of my mind. If it was as good as I recalled, it belonged in the 50. But was it as good as I recalled? So Zoë and I went back to Soju about three weeks ago. The restaurant is in the middle of expanding to the room next door and feels a bit like eating in a big empty room rather than eating in a restaurant.

But this list is about dishes, not restaurants, and the Korean fried chicken at Soju isn’t as good as I remember. It’s miles better. It succeeds where Market Place newcomer The Bap fails, because it’s not just bland sweetness but it has the force and complexity of well deployed gochujang. It sings with the stuff, and in truth it’s every bit as good as the sadly departed Gurt Wings’ JFC. I wish I’d had a portion to myself, which isn’t a mistake I’ll make again. With all due respect to my future mother-in-law, a fully paid up member of BTS’s Army (it’s all about Jimin, apparently), this is one of the best things to come out of Korea.

8. Gobi manchurian, Clay’s Kitchen

One to add to the long long list of “Clay’s will ruin other versions of this dish for you”, their gobi Manchurian takes an Indo-Chinese staple and perfects it. The signs were always there that Clay’s was capable of this – back when they did a similar dish with baby corn it converted me, a lifelong baby corn hater, into an ardent fan. But really, this dish is at or near the pinnacle. Just enough sweetness, just enough heat, just enough crunch, just enough firmness in the cauli. 

If get all four of those things absolutely on the money at the same time you’ve created one of the best starters of all time. Simple, you might think: and yet only Clay’s manages all four. Gobi Manchurian elsewhere is either sweet or soggy or off-centre in some other way. If you’ve had it at Clay’s, you’ll notice that when you eat it anywhere else. But then if you have it at Clay’s, you might not bother ordering it anywhere else.

7. Ajika chicken wrap, Geo Café

I have been saying for years that Georgian food is the great undiscovered wonder of world cuisine, and it may be that I pop my clogs before that ever comes to pass. But, possibly uniquely in the U.K., Reading folk already know that because of the tireless efforts of Geo Café.

From street food to pub pop-ups to that residency on the Island, Reading’s weirdest venue, to respectability on Prospect Street, they have always been perfect ambassadors for the food of their home. If you’ve ever been to a supper club and heard owner Keti waxing lyrical about qvevris, wine and walnuts you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

But even if you haven’t, even if you’ve never nibbled a khachapuri stuffed with gooey, stretchy cheese (or, like me, reheated it in the oven next day and – sacrilege alert – served it with Branston) you may well have had arguably their most revered dish, the ajika chicken wrap. Always chicken thigh, always smothered in ajika, Georgia’s hot, pungent, slightly acrid spiced sauce that expands your palate and horizons with every bite. Always mollified with the claggy comfort of bazhe, Georgia’s walnut sauce, the two components yin and yang in one of the best sandwiches you’ll ever eat.

If you’ve had one, you don’t forget it. If you’ve had one, you’ll have another. And if Geo Café ever pop up with their trailer at a street food event, order this dish there: the chicken coming off a hot grill, charred and indecently good, elevates a great dish still higher.

6. Boneless baby chicken, Bakery House

In the pantheon of Reading dishes, Bakery House’s boneless baby chicken has occupied a rarefied position for many, many years. I have been known to say that it’s the single best plate of food in Reading, the one dish that has everything you need without having to get sides or extras or whistles and bells. Since I revisited and re-reviewed Bakery House not long ago, to check in on it following its acquisition by the owners of House Of Flavours, I have ordered this dish a few times to check whether it is still as it was.

Actually, I did that the first time I went back. After that, I realised it was still exceptional and I ordered it every subsequent time because I loved it. It’s beautifully spiced, beautifully grilled, almost completely boneless and a joy in every single way. Sprinkled with just-squeezed lemon juice and stabbed with a fork, topped with spicy rice or a little of their impeccably dressed salad, dabbed with garlic or chilli sauce it is one of my favourite things to eat in Reading, or anywhere. Full stop, the end.

This piece is going up on Friday, and I had it on Tuesday. What more can I tell you? If Reading’s dishes were listed like buildings, this would be Grade 1.

5. Xinjiang shredded chicken, Kungfu Kitchen

I know what you’re thinking, another chicken dish? This is the last one, I promise. But it couldn’t be more different from the others in this top 10, and I have a particular passion for it which verges on the evangelical. It is, in its way, quite unlike anything else in the top 50.

This dish is cold, shredded chicken, like roast chicken in texture. And all it contains, apart from that, are chillis, cucumber, coriander, sesame seeds and a bright red spiced oil that clings to every nook and cranny of every component. This is a perfect introduction to the dark side of Jo’s menu, to Szechuan pepper that kills you with kindness, that turns up the heat but numbs the tongue so you carry on, as if compelled, until you’ve eaten it all. This dish is a brute. It will hurt you, ever so nicely, and you’ll find you like it. If I say more I’ll turn into one of those tedious food writers who talks about food as if they want to fuck the stuff, so I’ll leave it there.

Zoë can’t eat this dish, she says it triggers her asthma. All the more for me.

4. Deep fried fish in spicy hot pot, Kungfu Kitchen

Speaking of my fiancée, this is her favourite dish in Reading, and if you eat it after the Xinjiang chicken you’ll think it’s the blandest thing going. It’s not, but it’s an equally clever and fascinating set of Szechuan flavours, the deck shuffled and dealt ever so slightly differently. I don’t know how Kungfu Kitchen cooks fish as perfectly as this. It is crisp and craggy outside but inside it is only, only just cooked, soft and pearlescent.

It’s also hotter than the sun, and stays that way for a while when it reaches your table. If you order it along with the lamb with cumin (number 11, if you remember) the trick is to eat the lamb before it cooks through and then descend on the fish when it won’t burn your mouth. But if you have the restraint for that you’re a better human being than me. You’re probably a better human being than me anyway.

This has the same kind of heat as the shredded chicken, but it builds differently and reaches a calmer crescendo. It is, however, no less fascinating. When Zoë was discharged from hospital with Covid, we had a delivery of this the following night. When she devoured the lot, I knew we would be okay.

3. Thhicheko aalu, Kamal’s Kitchen

“You’re giving the number 3 spot to a load of old spuds?” said Zoë when I told her my final rankings. She said that firmly tongue in cheek, but besides she knows how much I love this dish. It was brand new on Kamal’s menu when he opened his new place and, for me at least, it was love at first taste.

These are pressed potatoes, and I’m not entirely sure what that means or how he does it, but they are flattened discs of potato with the perfect crunch and crust outside, the fluffy core within. You can have all the triple-cooked chips in the world, I really don’t care, but just leave me these. They come coated in a spice mix which actually has more in common with KFK’s Szechuan cuisine than you might expect, with that same medicinal numbing effect. I’ve never had a dish like this before, I probably never will again, but every day that Reading residents can walk into a restaurant and eat this is a day to cherish.

2. Chilli beef nachos, The Lyndhurst

At the start of this process, I said that only dishes currently available in Reading were eligible for the list. I said that was harsh on the Lyndhurst, because they change their menu so frequently. And since I started publishing this list, with two dishes by the Lyndhurst on it (beetroot croquettes and chocolate mousse, in case you’ve forgotten), the pub has rewarded me by announcing that they both come off the menu tomorrow to be replaced by something new. You couldn’t make it up.

I am confident they won’t do the same with this dish, because it has been on their menu since day one. It has survived every iteration of the menu, and in fact I had it when I first tried the Lyndhurst’s food, when I visited their new incarnation four years ago to review it. I loved it at the time, although I had some moaning quibble about it being messy. I was talking out of my arse: it’s a stone cold classic and I have enjoyed it many, many times.

I can’t remember if the Lyndhurst makes its own tortilla chips, but it feels like they do. If they don’t, they buy them in superbly. The chilli though, slow-cooked so every strand of beef is in high definition, is all their own work. So is the guacamole they adorn it with. I’ve always said this dish tells you everything you need to know about the Lyndhurst – they make this incredible chilli but just for one dish. They don’t stick it on top of a burger, or lob it on a baked potato, or serve it in its own right just with rice. They make an incredible chilli, day in day out, solely for this dish on the starters section of their menu.

And it’s too good to merely be a starter. You can have it as a starter, or you can have it to share, or you can have it as your main with a pint after a hard day at work, or you could just order it for a group of you because you’re down the pub, and still alive, and it’s a Wednesday. It still costs less than a tenner, which in itself is a bit ludicrous, and it has brought me an awful lot of happiness over four years. When they redecorated the pub recently they missed a trick not putting up a blue plaque.

1. Bhuna venison, Clay’s Kitchen

I don’t know what I can say about this dish that hasn’t already been said, but here goes nothing: when Clay’s launched in the summer of 2018 this was the dish that raised eyebrows, possibly the clearest statement of intent that, when it came to eating Indian food in Reading, you weren’t in Bangladesh any more. A bhuna, but with… venison? 

Clay’s social media, in the build up to their opening, explained that a bhuna was cooked in its juices and so was a drier, thicker curry than the gloopy soup people were used to in Reading, with its heavy reliance on tinned tomatoes and generic garam masala. But how could that work, a dry curry with venison which, for all its many merits, can be on the dry side itself? Well, be that as it may I remember visiting, eating it and thinking “no, they really know what they’re doing”.

And they really, really do. This dish, which has never come off their menu, which was the first name on their team sheet when they put together their Clay’s At Home menu, has become emblematic of Clay’s and its approach to food. Take something your customers think they know, and make it better. Use that stepping stone to introduce your diners to things further and further away from the known until, like climbing a mountain, you can look back and see where you’ve been. Such a beautiful vista! And yet the first step in that magnificent voyage was this dish.

And it really is stunning. I had it recently and it has stood the test of time like few other things (certainly better than I have). It is still rich, still complex, still tender, still poised and balanced. It is simply a class act, and ironically probably the dish – more even so than biryani – people most associate with Clay’s. One of my oldest friends would probably nominate this as his death row dish. His teenage son loves it as much as he does. I like the idea that they’ve bonded through Clay’s beautiful food.

Being lucky enough to know Nandana a little bit, the irony is that I imagine she could have mixed feelings about this dish topping the list. Because as a constant innovator, she is always on to the next thing, the next dish, the next combination of flavours. The idea that the first dish she ever served is the one she is remembered for might frustrate her, like a band with a new album out that is expected to play the hits.

I do have sympathy with that, but sometimes you need to know when you’ve created a classic. The world doesn’t have another song like Yesterday. Reading doesn’t have another dish quite like this venison bhuna.

• Click here for dishes 50-41
• Click here for dishes 40-31
• Click here for dishes 30-21
• Click here for dishes 20-11

This piece is part of Edible Reading at 10. See also:

• The 10 most significant restaurants of the last decade
• The 10 saddest closures of the last decade
• Edible Reading and me