Food critic TOM PARKER BOWLES names his favourite restaurant: 'I've been coming for nearly a decade'

Updated: 22:00 EDT, 6 November 2026 ‘What’s your favourite restaurant?’ It’s the question I’m eternally asked, wherever I happen to be, and I usually um and ah and splutter something along the lines of, ‘Well, you know, it rather depends on my mood.’ Which it does. Some days Thai 101 Kitchen, and its fearsomely fiery Southern curries; others Bouchon Racine, for gloriously gut-busting Gallic grub. There’s Min Jiang for elevated Cantonese, Bentley’s for serious seafood and Hawksmoor for a grown-up bit of beef. The list goes on and on. But really, when it comes down to it, my favourite place is always the one nearest home.I don’t mean any old down-at-heel hellhole, rather somewhere where basic hospitality, rather than cutting-edge cuisine, is the main attraction. Where there’s no need to make an effort, or go for the ‘edgy’ option (because that’s what critics are supposed to do) or worry if one’s bossy Jack Russell takes a dislike to next door’s pug. Because a good restaurant is rarely about just food, rather a somewhat magical combination of service, lighting, atmosphere and the feeling you’re part of something greater than mere lunch. (Not that I don’t take lunch very seriously indeed.) For Tom, at The Bird In Hand, ‘it’s always pizza’But that place, for me, is The Bird In Hand, a ‘pub and dining room’ in Brook Green, west London. I’ve been coming for nearly a decade. It’s perfectly suited for dinners both sober and insensible, make-ups, break-ups and bacchanalian blasts. It has a proper bar, a scattering of tables and the best lighting in London: low, louche and sultry. There was a panic a few months back, when the old owners sold up. But Max de Nahlik, who also has The Holland off Kensington High Street, is the perfect patron. ‘Please don’t change those pizzas!’ we cried. And he didn’t. There may be other things on the menu here. And I’ve heard they’re rather good. At The Bird, though, I don’t want to have to think, or even choose. That’s for the day job. Here, it’s always Diavola pizza and a bottle of rosé. Or red, if it’s Arctic outside. The pizza is broadly Roman in style, with neatly blistered crust, crisp base, and tomato sauce with a bit of bite. Ingredients are excellent quality, while chilli oil and flakes arrive without asking. Service is eternally joyous (with Vlad, the GM, a local legend), prices eminently reasonable and, perhaps best of all, I can totter back home in three minutes flat.About £30pp. The Bird In Hand, 88 Masbro Rd, London W14; thebirdinhandlondon.comRating: