The Barbary - Covent Garden, London

Sometimes when you're writing a review you worry that you'll struggle to find the words to express how much you enjoyed the experience. The Barbary is the kind of restaurant that'll keep you preoccupied. For the average Londoner, Mediterranean food is synonymous with three cuisines: Spanish, Italian and Greek. But recently, there's been a lot of effort to expand minds and open palates, and The Barbary in Neal's Yard is the latest restaurant to carry the torch. It's also one of the best date night spots in the city, if you like horseshoe bars, soul music, cool staff and delicious food. 

Named for the span of north Africa that stretches from Morocco to Algeria (also erstwhile corsair's haven and home to the now extinct Barbary lion), The Barbary draws culinary inspiration from that area, with some major touchstones in Levantine cuisine to boot. It's the second project from the brains behind Palomar (launched by siblings Zoe and Layo Paskin who formerly headed up the legendary Edge Nightclub, along with Assaf Granit and Uri Navon) and is arguably even sexier than the first. 

Guests must wend their way through the eye-popping parti-coloured square of Neal's Yard, past a pair of olive trees, to enter The Barbary. Inside, a large horsehoe bar swoops toward the entrance, behind which you'll find head chef Eyal Jagermann corralling ingredients into some of the finest grazing dishes in the Smoke. We visited on a sunny Sunday afternoon around 4.30pm to avoid the queues. Even with the restaurant more than half full, the staff were very relaxed, pointing us in the direction of a Josef Ehmoser Zweigelt from Wagram, Austria and a Fernet Branca and ginger beer. 

Jagermann then proffered us the Naan e Barbari - which held punches with the best that we'd tried in India. It's gracile, oily shards were the perfect complement to baba ghanoush and msabacha chickpeas (a kind of upscale, deconstructed hummus), both of which held punches with the best we'd tried in the Levant. From here the meal moved from strength to strength. Moroccan cigars were similar to the briouats you find in the country, but pimped out with a lovely filling of cod and chermoula. A special of Galician dairy cow was lovingly grilled with flavourful fat that melted on the tongue. 

Dessert continued the excellence. Halva ice cream was a delicious, light conclusion to the meal, and coincidentally the perfect accompaniment to the hashcake - The Barbary's honey tart, which might give the tarts at Café Murano or The Marksman a run for the money. We were extremely impressed with the vibe, cooking and service on display at The Barbary… if you can stand to queue (or eat at unusual hours) it's worth a long journey.