The best restaurants in Dalston

A revamp for Dalston’s kings of kofte has seen this classic Turkish grillhouse embrace high-end cuisine. The clientele remains largely the same as before, and the food – which was always great – more refined, but still indulgent. There’s oily, palm-sized sourdough pide and cull yaw kofte, a meaty nod to Mangal II’s menu of old, accessorised with a sweet splodge of grilled apple. 

Ignore the double decker buses chugging past the windows and you could be in Mexico City. The sandy floor tiles of what was once a Turkish supermarket have been painted hacienda red and walls are draped with handmade rugs, colourful crucifixes and a giant Mary de Guadalupe statue found in a gas station in Oaxaca. Which would all be pointless if the food wasn’t also the real deal. Raised in Guadalajara, chef Daniel Carillo knows what he’s doing. His short but punch-pulling menu revolves around regional specials and the three Ts; tacos, tortas and tostadas.

Besides being a great pub, the food at the Prince Arthur is knife-and-fork-down brilliant. The menu, consisting of small and large(ish) plates, naked oysters with moreish mignonette as well as snackier bits like mushroom toast, is polished enough to make it feel special – but never have you reaching for your phone to Google ingredients. The star of the show is undoubtedly the lobster bisque: three plump Orkney-dived scallops and saffron-cooked potatoes, topped with samphire and swimming in a heavenly bowl of buttery, fishy, unami-loaded bisque (AKA Jesus’s blood).

Racks of organic rye and sourdough loaves (including an excellent potato version) line the walls, while the counter is piled up with glistening sticky buns, croissants, chocolate and fruit brioches, apple turnovers, savoury bakes, and doorstep sandwiches with imaginative fillings – although these are quickly snapped up. Better still is the hefty bacon sarnies they dish out for brekkie. 

Like food cooked on a fire and a loud rock'n'roll soundtrack? Then you'll love Acme Fire Cult, a vibey outdoor-ish hangout next to 40FT Brewery and Dusty Knuckle bakery. The live-fire concept idea is a simple, sustainable and collaborative one. The brewery and the restaurant work together to use beer by-products like yeast and grain that go into ferments and hot sauces, while leftover spices are used in the drinks. Paradoxically, there’s actually not that much meat on the seasonal changing menu. Vegetables are the stars of this show, so this a BBQ that everyone can enjoy.

Oded Oren’s namesake restaurant might look like a hip kids club from the outside – not helped by its Shacklewell Lane location – but step inside and you’ll find a stylish, cross-generational crowd who look like they’re refuelling before yet another gallery launch party. Oren’s menu delves into Tel Avivian roots and offers Mediterranean food that bristles with flavour and ferments. Try crisp bottomed and stone baked flatbread ringed with red onion with classic baba ganoush and creamy labneh with sumac, but also Jerusalem mixed grill pita, filled with an offal-y mixture of hearts, spleens and unidentified innards in a tomato-spiked yoghurt. 

Billed as a ‘fermenting kitchen’, this sibling of Ducksoup is dominated by a giant marble table and various pickling projects – there’s even a muslin bag of home-produced labneh hanging from the ceiling. The scribbled blackboard lists natural wines, home-brewed infusions and a daily changing roster of seasonal small plates – many involving cured or fermented ingredients, of course (mackerel under oil with purple sprouting broccoli and pickled kumquats is typical). 

A good shout for proper Turkish food in Dalston, this wonderfully smoky bolthole is dominated by a long silver grill that sizzles along the back of the room. Customers sit at bare tables, savour the aromas and tuck into classic kebabs and grills prepared with real care – the lamb chops are a must-have, but don’t ignore the succulent ‘tuvuk sis’ chicken or the whole sea bream. Everything comes with nutty brown rice, house salad and a long, thin green pepper.

Part restaurant, part bar and part music venue, this seriously hip Hoxton joint takes its cue from Japanese izakayas – ‘pubs’ serving cooked snacks. To eat, there’s a set menu – with a vegan option – of excellent sushi, sashimi and tempura, as well as occasional à la carte offerings. It’s low-lit, with DJ sets and regular live jazz adding to the atmosphere (the place is named after a Thelonius Monk album).

Japanese and Italian may seem unlikely bedfellows, but Angelina’s cross-cultural mash-up (‘itameshi’) is an elegant addition to the Dalston scene. There are four course and ten-course tasting menu options, including starters with heavy umami nods to Japan and mains with Mediterranean overtones (a giant raviolo in tonkotsu broth with crispy guanciale, for example). While the space itself whispers monochrome sophistication, service is down-to-earth loveliness personified.

Ethiopian, vegan and BYO, this Dalston café knocks out hearty plant-based food in a friendly no-frills setting of fairy lights, religious prints and fake plants. Decide whether you want traditional injera bread or rice to go with your multi-dish ‘sampler platter’, which is all about greens and aromatic stews made with beans or lentils and pimped with plenty of garlic, ginger and turmeric. Prices are ridiculously low and you don’t even have to pay corkage.

Run by Californian-born cook/designer/stylist Claire Ptak (who made Harry and Meghan’s wedding cake, no less), this bakery/café on a Dalston back street has a laidback vibe that’s topped off by its twee, pretty treats decorated with real flowers. As a sampler, try the gorgeous cinnamon buns, the moist, swirly halva tahini brownies or something seasonal from their line-up of US-style mini buttercream cupcakes. You can buy to take home or eat upstairs in a pretty space done out like a 1960s living room.

The hipster’s ocakbasi of choice in Dalston, the smart yet cosy Cirrik has a way with the Turkish classics: use the charcoal-grilled bread as a spoon for meze dips, share thin-based yet fluffy pide, and don’t forget standards including the garlicky lamb beyti with its peppy yoghurt-and-mint dressing. 

Fried chicken heaven for hardcore fans (with a side order of killer cocktails), Chick ’n’ Sours serves its chooks in various forms, but nothing beats the K-pop sandwich/burger. Looking a bit like a Jackson Pollock sandwiched into a brioche bun, it comes with squirts of fiery gochujang mayo, Asian slaw and crisply battered buttermilk-bathed thigh meat. There’s also a supporting cast of jazzy wings and drumsticks. Either way, this is mercilessly messy stuff, so don’t go dressed in your date-night finery.