Trevor Gulliver, the founder of St. John and a quietly influential figure in London’s dining scene, is refreshingly unpretentious. He dislikes celebrity chef theatrics and has little patience for television endorsements without purpose—”you should only do TV if you have a reason for it, a strategy,” he says bluntly. He admires a generation of cooks led by Rowley Leigh, Alistair Little and Simon Hopkinson, chefs whose restrained, ingredient-led cooking he feels close to.
When St. John opened at Smithfield three decades ago its spare, industrial interior and unapologetic focus on nose-to-tail cooking felt radical. Today that aesthetic is familiar, but nothing has knocked St. John off its perch. What began as a single restaurant has grown—slowly and organically—into three restaurants, three bakeries and even a small French vineyard, and has earned a Michelin star along the way. “All the St. John’s came out of circumstance,” Gulliver reflects. “There was never a plan; they are never the same and always the same.” A Londoner by birth, he first worked in music-industry merchandise and ran The Fire Station in Waterloo before meeting Fergus Henderson and finding the Smithfield site that became the original St. John.
Gulliver resists naming a single favourite. He explains that choice depends on context—the company, the weather, the moment—and admits that for him only one constant is the family curry house. Still, he is happy to share a short list of places he often returns to in London and beyond, with a humble apology for any omissions.
Sweetings, City of London
Sweetings has been a constant for more than a century and Gulliver celebrates its continuity. Tucked among glass towers, its Grade II–listed interior—with wooden stools, a long bar and low tables—feels like a happy anachronism. The menu is resolutely simple: grilled, fried and poached fish. Gulliver recommends standing at the bar with a Black Velvet in a pewter mug and a few oysters to start; it’s precisely the kind of old-school ritual he admires.
Bouchon Racine, near Smithfield
A little slice of Lyon in London, Bouchon Racine follows the bouchon tradition with dishes such as escargot, steak tartare, rabbit, confit de canard and côte de bœuf, finished with petit pots au chocolat. It feels as if it’s always belonged in its corner by Smithfield, backed by a French-led wine list. It’s popular—Jay Rayner is among its fans—and reservations are becoming harder to snag. For a proper counter-lunch, Gulliver also points to the pub beneath it, The Three Compasses, and recommends a jambón beurre at the bar.
The French House, Soho
Perched above bustling Dean Street, The French House Dining Room is a Soho institution where the menu is handwritten and changes almost daily. With roots in small, intimate French kitchens, it has long attracted actors, artists, musicians and food lovers. Expect oysters, rillettes, confit garlic with goats’ curd on toast, chicken liver parfait and chargrilled lambs’ hearts—simple, well-executed French cooking in an atmosphere that feels lived-in and singular.
Dastaan, Epsom (and Leeds)
For his family curry house, Gulliver picks Dastaan. The roomy, convivial atmosphere is part of the appeal as much as the food. The Ewell/Epsom site in Surrey is a compact local favourite—often the industry’s go-to curry spot—and there’s also a branch in Leeds. It’s the kind of place where the noise and bustle add to the pleasure of a good meal.
The Seahorse, Dartmouth
When he wants to get away, Gulliver heads to The Seahorse in Dartmouth. Celebrated for its seafood and its focus on provenance, the Seahorse is known both to locals and visiting gourmets. Dishes such as red mullet and Torbay scallops are widely admired—Angela Hartnett among those who praise the cooking—and the convivial banquette dining and coastal atmosphere make it a dependable, joyful destination.
Gulliver’s list is less a set of ranking and more a map of places that represent traditions he respects: straightforward cooking, strong routines, attention to provenance and an emphasis on pleasure. He avoids superlatives but wears his loyalties lightly, preferring to let a good meal speak for itself.
