Best Lebanese Restaurant Pubs

Just what London needs - another Lebanese restaurant masquerading as an upscale dining destination. When I heard Maroush St John's Wood had taken over the historic Crockers Folly building, I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly sprained something. The affluent denizens of NW8 hardly seemed desperate for another place to spend their hedge fund bonuses on hummus. And yet, here I am, reluctantly penning what amounts to a love letter to this surprisingly magnificent establishment. The moment you step through the doors of Maroush St John's Wood, you're transported from London's rain-slicked streets into what feels like a fever dream of Victorian grandiosity meets Beirut elegance. The restoration of this Grade II-listed gin palace is, and it pains me to admit this, absolutely stunning. The marble columns and crystal chandeliers could easily veer into tacky territory, but somehow they don't. It's like walking onto a Wes Anderson film set, if Wes Anderson developed a sudden passion for Lebanese cuisine and Victorian architecture. The main dining room, with its ornate ceiling and original features, makes most of London's "grand" dining rooms look like a Pret A Manger in comparison. Let's talk about the food because that's where my cynicism truly began to crumble. The mezze selection is extensive enough to make your head spin, but unlike many places that offer quantity over quality, each dish here feels deliberately crafted. The hommos beiruty arrives with a subtle kick that doesn't overwhelm the nutty tahini base. The batata hara - spiced potato cubes that could easily be an afterthought - are crispy little nuggets of perfection that I found myself reaching for long after I should have stopped. The mixed grill, which in lesser establishments often resembles a sad parade of overcooked meat, here becomes a masterclass in charcoal grilling. The lamb kofta maintains its juiciness, the chicken shish is actually seasoned (imagine that!), and the rice beneath soaks up the meat juices like it's being paid to do so. Yes, you'll pay handsomely for the privilege of dining here. The prices reflect both the postcode and the setting, and you might experience a moment of cardiac arrest when the bill arrives. But unlike many of London's high-end establishments where you're primarily paying for postcode and pretense, here you're getting something tangible in return - exceptional food, genuine hospitality, and an atmosphere that makes you feel like you've stumbled into a secret corner of history. The service manages to strike that elusive balance between attentiveness and hovering - a feat so rare in London that I'm tempted to suspect some sort of dark magic is involved. They're knowledgeable without being condescending, present without being intrusive, and - most surprisingly - actually seem to enjoy their jobs. For those seeking to minimize damage to their bank accounts, the set lunch menu offers a more accessible entry point to the experience. The wine list includes some excellent Lebanese options that pair beautifully with the food, though again, be prepared for St John's Wood pricing rather than Beirut bargains. The restaurant accommodates both intimate dinners and larger celebrations with equal grace. Families are welcome, though parents might want to keep a close eye on little ones around all that marble. There's outdoor seating for those rare London days when the weather cooperates, and the bar area serves as a sophisticated spot for pre-dinner cocktails or a light mezze. Maroush St John's Wood has achieved something I thought impossible in London's saturated dining scene - it's created a space that feels both special and genuine. The building's history hasn't been sacrificed for modern convenience, the food hasn't been dumbed down for Western palates, and the service hasn't succumbed to the mechanical efficiency that plagues so many high-end establishments. So here I am, eating my words along with my baklava. If you're going to spend an obscene amount on dinner in London (and let's face it, in this city, when aren't you?), you might as well do it somewhere that delivers on its promises. Book a table at Maroush St John's Wood. Just don't blame me when you can't stop thinking about those potatoes.

The Foundry Collective in London is what happens when your coolest friend's living room grows up and decides to become a proper establishment. This delightfully affordable hangout in the heart of the city manages to be everything to everyone without losing its soul – think part Lebanese restaurant, part jazz venue, part coffee shop, and entirely wonderful. Walking into The Foundry Collective feels like stumbling upon London's best-kept secret. The space has that rare quality of feeling both carefully curated and comfortably lived-in, like a beloved vintage jacket that just happens to be perfectly on-trend. After a recent renovation, they've managed to create something that's simultaneously warmer and cooler than before – no small feat in a city where venues often sacrifice comfort for style. The real magic of The Foundry Collective lies in its chameleon-like ability to transform throughout the day. By morning, it's a coffee lover's haven where freelancers tap away at laptops while sipping perfectly crafted beverages. Come afternoon, the space fills with the aromatic promises of Lebanese cuisine from their in-house restaurant, Munch by Modos. The hummus here isn't just hummus – it's a revelation that'll make you question every other hummus you've ever had. Their kibbeh bites are what comfort food dreams are made of, and the portions are genuinely generous without breaking the bank. As evening descends, The Foundry Collective shifts again, this time into a vibrant social hub where the drinks flow as freely as the conversation. The bar staff mix mocktails that could convert the most dedicated cocktail enthusiast, while the carefully curated selection of beers and wines proves you don't need to spend a fortune for quality libations. Tuesday nights are particularly special, when the space comes alive with jazz jams that feel more like an intimate gathering in someone's particularly cool basement than a formal performance. The attention to detail here is remarkable. Clean bathrooms (a true London miracle) sit alongside quirky art installations in the small but perfectly formed shop section. The space manages to be dog-friendly without feeling like a canine social club, and the outdoor seating area provides a perfect perch for people-watching when London's weather decides to cooperate. What sets The Foundry Collective apart from London's endless parade of trying-too-hard venues is its effortless authenticity. The staff actually seem to enjoy being there (another London miracle), treating you less like a customer and more like a neighbor who's popped round for a chat. They've mastered the art of being accessible without being ordinary, creating an atmosphere where both first-date nervous energy and comfortable old-friend catchups feel equally at home. For those planning a visit, here's the insider scoop: while you can certainly pop in spontaneously, booking ahead for dinner is wise – the Lebanese kitchen has developed quite a following. The plat du jour is always worth considering, and if you're coming for the jazz nights, arriving early means snagging the best spots. They offer delivery and takeout options, but honestly, the vibe is half the meal here – you'll want to experience it in person. Street parking in the area can be a bit of a challenge (welcome to London), but the venue's excellent public transport links more than make up for it. They accept all major payment methods, including contactless, making those round-buying situations smoothly painless. The Foundry Collective is where London's diverse cultural threads weave together into something genuinely special. It's the kind of place that reminds you why you love this city – or if you're visiting, makes you wish you lived here. Whether you're seeking a coffee sanctuary, craving authentic Lebanese flavors, or hoping to discover your new favorite jazz band, this spot delivers without pretense and without emptying your wallet. Pop in soon – before everyone else discovers it and you have to start planning visits weeks in advance.