Hovering slightly on the fringes of one of London’s most bustling neighbourhoods – yes, on Greek Street, the clue’s in the name – this delightful, chic little…bistro, I think, is the best way to describe it, acts as a beacon of warmth and hospitality on a chilly January evening. Inside, the decor is all slick, tasteful minimalism, with dark, wooden, school-style chairs, chalk boards displaying the menu and wine selection on the whitewashed walls, and artfully suspended lighting bathing everything in a cosy glow. In short, it’s the perfect place to retreat to whether it’s for a gossip with a friend (guilty as charged), a catch up en famille, or on a relaxed date. For nothing is fussy, here; the simple, onyx-black tables are bereft of white cloths, and service is informal and friendly.

The lack of fuss extends to the food, which is prepared at the open kitchen at the back of the restaurant. That’s not to say there is no skill here; there is plenty of it. The menu changes almost daily, so you may not find anything described below when you visit – and you will want to visit – but there are a couple of staples which appear regularly. These include the mouthwatering-sounding garlic and chilli bread with romesco sauce – that flavoursome, piquant puree of sweet Spanish peppers blended with almonds, vinegar and oil – but my mate and I swerve it for the sake of the montanara (a mini-fried pizza, said Google) smothered in fresh tomato sauce with spicy ‘nduja, red onion and springy scamorza cheese. Essentially because the table next to us ordered it and it smelled so good that we had to do the same.

The base was puffy and charred, the toppings flavoursome, and with a little kick. We followed this with a small plate of roasted delica pumpkin with burrata, walnuts and radicchio; a lovely, autumnal dish which contrasted the firm, meaty pumpkin with the cloud-like cheese. It was tough to choose a main, because they all sounded delicious, from the veggie king oyster mushrooms with lentils, taleggio, hazelnuts and cavolo nero to the Galician rump of beef with fried potatoes, hispi cabbage and salsa verde. But we narrowed it down to cod with confit potato, crab butter, capers and samphire, and a Brecon lamb pie with Jerusalem artichokes, kale and smoked anchovies. As if the prospect of confit potato were not enough, we clearly feared we might suffer from the lack of tubers so ordered an extra portion of fried potatoes on the side. It was both the right, and the wrong, thing to do: 10 Greek Street has a wicked way with a potato, mainly involving lots and lots – and lots – of butter. The confit potatoes were cubes of carb-y joy, while the fried ones were practically dripping in garlic butter. It’s no stretch to say that they both eventually defeated us, but we had a lot of fun trying.
The cod was fresh and flaky, while the pie was hearty and intense; both perfect winter warmers. For some reason we thought we could tackle dessert, and ordered the tres leches cake which came scattered with raisins and almonds, with a punchy scoop of ginger ice cream on the side. I think we managed three spoonfuls each. The affable manager steered us well towards a great choice of wine to go with it all, a crisp, dry Assyrtiko. There is an expansive – and reasonably-priced – wine list and they also do a handful of cocktails, too. In short, you’ll wish Soho was your neighbourhood, but it’s good to know that for just one evening, you’ll feel right at home.