Foodism (UK)

1 week ago | foodism.co.uk | Laura Millar

Café François 14-16 Stoney StreetLondonGBSE1 9AD View map Tucked away under the arches in Borough Yards, Café François is a slick proposition with cool logos (the chic red branding turns up everywhere from the staff’s khaki or burnt orange chore jackets to the crockery), so-functional-looking-its-hip wooden furniture, exposed brickwork, a cute counter bar, and an open kitchen.

1 month ago | foodism.co.uk | Molly Codyre |Ian Dingle

Almost a decade in the making, John Chantarasak’s AngloThai opened in late 2024 and, just a few months later, scooped its first Michelin star. Here, the chef shares the five dishes that have shaped his career, from Bangkok to Brixton It’s safe to say that when a restaurant launches that has been almost a decade in the making, expectations run high. John Chantarasak’s AngloThai, which finally opened in Marylebone at the tail end of 2024, surpassed its lofty expectations.

1 month ago | foodism.co.uk | Tom Howells

Boozing in London is a multifaceted joy: a landscape of delectable poisons of all stripes and, crucially, a consummate wine drinker’s city. As an occasionally penniless food journalist subsisting on PR handouts (and the kind of man who has, quite delightedly, quaffed €3 flagons of indeterminate Carrefour plonk on numerous bicycle tours), I’d always been of the mindset that, like pizza and gelato before it, even crap wine was a better-than-average beverage. London has changed that thinking (a bit).

1 month ago | foodism.co.uk | Will Hawkes

When Sam Smith, co-owner of North London’s Pressure Drop Brewing, sat down to write a blog post in October, his aim was to get a few things off his chest. He wanted to highlight craft beer’s multiplying woes, taking in the misuse of crowdfunding, beer pricing, ‘craft-washed’ multinational brands and more issues. His thoughts, though, touched a nerve.

2 months ago | foodism.co.uk | Molly Codyre

The wind groans through the steel precipice below me, tinkling the metal hook that’s the deceptively flimsy barrier between me and sudden death. Well, that’s what my brain is telling me anyway. Another gust blows through and I crouch to the floor, trying to breathe through the fear. I’m standing 134 metres above the ocean below, at the summit of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Once the panic (and wind) subsides, I manage to summon the courage to peek out at the view. It’s a doozy.