Elliot's

Casual eats, small plates, localism, no reservations - these are just a few current trends in a rash of new London eateries. Of the many such new-style 'tapas bars' I've been to lately, Elliot's stands out as one of the most enjoyable. It's the sort of all-day café-brasserie which is a joy to discover - just as long as you arrive in time to snag a table.

Proprietors Brett Redman and Rob Green already have a bit of a cult following for their modest Pavilion Café in Victoria Park, despite it being little more than a neighbourhood caff. Elliot's is a lot more grown-up. They make much of buying their produce from Borough Market - why wouldn't you, if it surrounds you - but it's the warm atmosphere and enticing menu that really makes it special.

Elliot's has benches on the street and an ingenious inside-outside window seat that creates a gentle transition from the market into the dining room. The walls have been stipped back to bare bricks, but the other fittings are top quality. The overall effect is slightly faux-boheme - a perfect fit for Borough Market, in other words.

The daily-changing menu starts with nibbles such as shining Turkish olives, 'red cow' parmesan, and heaps of shoestring fries - the latter very on-trend in New York.

Tomatoes à la Grecque was made with notably summery tomatoes, nicely soused and served warm; the olive oil and vinegar really sparked the already appealing summer flavours.

Brandade was less of success, the white fish - not firm salt cod, as it should be - having turned to a mush the consistency of mashed potato instead of the firmer, paste-like consistency that distinguishes a good brandade. But this mush was topped with a cornucopia of crisp, startlingly fresh vegetables: still-warm cooked golden beet, leaf-on radishes, fractal coils of Romanesco broccoli and a diced boiled egg. You can only get away with this sort of vegetable platter if everything is tip-top fresh, and this was.

Ingredient pairings break a few rules. I'd not seen ceviche served with crispbread before, but heck, why not? As a bit of Scandiwegian cross-cooking goes, this mackerel, cured in sherry vinegar and pepped up with scarlet ancho chilli powder and fennel seeds, was a good dish.

On our visit in the early days the desserts were limited to ices, but the discovery apple sorbet was aptly named - the frozen apple juice seemed to have locked in Laurie Lee, ruffled blouses and hayricks.

If you're drinking, there's a particularly good selection of wines by the glass, from aromatic Hungarian furmint to a lip-smacking gamay from Beaujolais. The bottled beers champion London's best microbreweries, namely Kernel and Meantime, both based south of the Thames. Now that's the sort of localism we can all support.