Czechoslovak Restaurant

Eating here is an experience. Set in what was once a suburban house (look for the old-fashioned model of a chef in the front garden) and featuring a map of Czechoslovakia as a socialist republic, this long-running social club for Czechs and Slovaks seems adrift from the normal run of time. Food is eaten in the rear bar (to a background of Czech sport on the TV) or a barely more formal dining room (under photos of a cardinal, a fighter ace and the dear departed Queen Mum), and it's simple in the unrefined sense.

Order a Czech sausage from the beer bites and that's what you get: fried or steamed sausage, rye bread and a splodge each of tomato sauce, mustard and horseradish. The menu is meat-focused (including an underpowered segedínsk? pork goulash), but there are also fish options (a good trout schnitzel) and sides (the cucumber salad comes, Czech style, in a big bowl of sweetened water).

Be sure to go off-piste with the drinks. Moravian wine and the Budvar Dark are very fine, but the guest bottles are a treat; the brilliantly lugubrious young barman supplied an excellent Kozel Cerny beer on our last visit.