London's best African restaurants

The glitzy interior doesn’t hint at Brilliant’s longevity (a photo of a glossy-haired Prince Charles meeting the proprietors provides a clue), but this Southall landmark has been trading for nigh-on 40 years. It now has a first-floor banqueting hall seating 120 and runs cookery courses – videos of which are shown on three flatscreen TVs in the ground-floor restaurant. The owners, the Anand family, hail from Kenya (see the carvings of Maasai tribeswomen), and the menu reflects this in starters of tandoori tilapia fish and mogo (cassava-root chips). Nevertheless, it’s for exemplary versions of straightforward Punjabi cooking that the restaurant has gained acclaim, and a cabinet full of awards. Fish pakora followed by methi chicken karahi remain sublime options, though a recent meal began with fried masala egg (two hard-boiled eggs laced with spices in a crisp batter) then a far more thrilling palak lamb, where both the spinach and tender meat shone through the warming spice mix, and nutty dahl tarka (one of several ‘healthy options’ using less ghee). Prompt, smart service, first-rate accompaniments (six own-made chutneys, skilfully rendered breads, high-quality basmati rice), a cocktail list and a room full of happy multicultural parties confirm Brilliant’s pedigree.  

The downside of this diminutive tapas bar, little sister of Moro next door, is its unceasing popularity. You can’t book for dinner (though you can for lunch), which, unless you have the timing of Eric Morecambe, almost always means a wait – though staff are happy for you to decamp elsewhere and will phone as soon as space becomes free. The upside is that the food is fantastic, the staff delightful and the atmosphere properly buzzing, as everyone is so pleased to be there. The high stools next to the bright orange bar offer the best view of the action, and are marginally more comfortable than the oddly low tables – but in general it’s a cramped experience. Do sample as many dishes as you can from the 40-strong list. Everything we tried was superb, from the very simple (tomato toast, lip-tingling pádron peppers) to old faves (patatas bravas topped with a thick, spicy tomato sauce and dollop of mayo) and regional specialities (grilled Galician tetilla cheese, with membrillo and walnut halves, and sizzling Palamós prawns with allioli). Desserts include a first-rate crema catalana (large enough for two), but the rich, boozy baklava ice-cream floating in a pool of Pedro Ximénez – the result of a happy kitchen accident, apparently – takes some beating. To drink, there are cocktails, sherries and an all-Spanish wine list, available by the glass, 375ml carafe or bottle.  

Khamsa is a homely neighbourhood eaterie run by a couple who quit their jobs to pursue their goal of making Algerian cuisine better known. It’s an exceptionally pretty spot with intricate handmade crockery, colourful pillows and curtains, timber-panelled walls and blackboard menus. The marvellous meze selection (£12, large enough for two) includes velvet-smooth zaalouk (aubergine and walnut paste), beetroot salad with fennel and anchovies, garlicky chickpeas topped with spicy meatballs, lentil and bulgar wheat salad, and a light yet flavoursome couscous salad. The mains weren’t so impressive. Fish tagine came wrapped in silver foil, which aided temperature control, but made it cumbersome to eat, and the salmon lacked flavour. The ‘modern couscous’ dish featured a fantastically punchy broth, fresh vegetables, succulent grilled chicken and a spicy merguez sausage, but was let down by chewy pieces of lamb. Service was generally pleasant, but we were alarmed by the owner’s stern tone when he asked why we were photographing the food. You can bring your own booze (no corkage), or there’s a range of fruit juices.

It’s tough finding a tagine for under a tenner in this town. But at Le Rif, only one dish on the extensive menu costs more than £5. This Finsbury Park eaterie isn’t remotely atmospheric, although there’s much to be said for a North African restaurant free of Arabic cliches. Instead, it caters to a local lunchtime crowd, many of whom eschew the North African offerings for sandwiches, jacket potatoes and spaghetti bolognaise. While such options seem bland compared to the Moroccan dishes the friendly owner can speedily conjure up, the starters were nothing special: a mild lentil, chickpea and rice soup; and houmous with olives and flatbread. The mains were excellent, though. With a combination of spinach, olives, potato, aubergine and lemon, the fish tagine got that balance of sweet and savoury flavours absolutely correct. Couscous royale was every bit as successful, with tender, succulent chunks of chicken and lamb in a subtly spicy broth. There’s only one way to end a great Moroccan meal – with pastries and a cup of fresh mint tea – although it does feel a little surreal to pour tea from a beautiful brass pot in a Finsbury Park caff.

A mosob is a handwoven table around which people gather to eat. This is one of the many facts about Eritrean cuisine we learned at this welcoming restaurant. In fact, instruction on Eritrean life and culture goes well beyond food, because the people who run Mosob are on a mission to promote their homeland. A very good job they do too: in the gaps between courses, our beaming waiter produced a well-thumbed book about the buildings of Asmara, and we also learned about the Italian occupation – at which point the pudding list (tartufo classico, tiramisu) became clear. But the main event is the cooking, especially the gloriously diverse vegetarian choices; these include beautifully spiced lentils (timtimo), pounded and stewed chickpeas (shiro) and spinach (hamli), and often involve cottage cheese. Meat eaters also fare well, thanks to the likes of the Mosob special (marinated lamb chops with spinach and lentils) and the muscular combination of hamli mis siga (tender stewed beef with spinach and garlic). Everything is served on spongy, yeasty injera, which is also used to scoop up the food. After such a feast, plus a few Serengeti lagers and the warm popcorn served as part of the final coffee ceremony, we didn’t need feeding again for 24 hours.  

London may have swooned for Ottolenghi and Yalla Yalla, but this homage to Egypt’s hole-in-the-wall koshari vendors, from food writer and champion of Levantine cooking Anissa Helou, is still a brave move. The small, pristine space with a stainless steel counter is slightly reminiscent of a school canteen: there are a handful seats along one wall. This is really a takeaway joint, with a menu only a shade more varied than it would be at a stall in Cairo or Alexandria. Warming, comforting and many-layered, koshari is falafel’s more substantial older brother – a solid, simple dish of lentils, pasta, vermicelli and rice topped with tomato sauce and fried onions. That’s it. Helou’s version comes in mild, hot and ‘mad’ (it’s not really), plus a twist of her own doqqa recipe – ground spices, nuts and herbs. Then there are a couple of plain salads, a daily soup (we had sharp, lemony lentil and chard with real depth of flavour), freshly pressed juices and traditional desserts – muhallabiyeh milk pudding and mishmishiya apricot purée, the former creamy and laced with rosewater like a grown-up version of a Wall’s Mini Milk, the latter an intense shot of fruit like a blast of summer sunshine. Service in the early days of opening was haphazard, but charming. Let them iron out the wrinkles, and London may swoon again for this simplest of Middle Eastern menus.  

With a name like Adams Cafe and a daytime menu of full English and other greasy spoon favourites, you might not expect the nightly transformation into a cosy North African bistro. Head here after 7pm, though, and mottled lampshades scatter pretty patterns of light across a candlelit room that’s decorated in muted blues and greens, with ornate ceramic tiling. In-the-know locals often fill the place. The menu is helpfully split into prices for one, two or three courses; you can mix and match as you like and it’s great value. Briks, doigts de fatma and cigares – all crisp little pastries, surprisingly light and delicately spiced, with meat, seafood or vegetarian fillings – are highlights among the starters. Main courses include tagines and couscous, as well as a variety of grilled meats and fish. The chefs hail from Morocco and Tunisia, and the subtlety of the aromatic dishes shows their homelands’ cuisines in their best light. Complimentary appetisers, a leisurely atmosphere and optional BYO add to diners’ sense of well-being.  

Whether you’re looking for a fragrant North African tagine, or East African injera bread topped with spicy stew, you’ll find them here. Do you agree with the choices? Use the comments box below or tweet your suggestions.

The Red Sea is one of those London secrets you almost don’t want to share, lest it should shed the ramshackle appeal of its MDF tables and workman caff aesthetic for mainstream respectability. The menu offers an intriguing mix of Eritrean, Ethiopian, Somali and Yemeni cuisine, plus the odd bit of Italian (African spag bol anyone?), and the food is an eccentric delight. Here you’ll find one of the broadest Horn of African choices around, at almost unreasonably good value. Our selections of spring lamb served with a special pilau rice, and lamb stew with okra and onions, were two of the more conservative options. The four-page menu (a whole page of which is dedicated to ‘Abyssinian’ cuisine) offers innards in spiced butter, among other delicacies. Customers are a blend of young, urban expats, veiled women of various nationalities sipping on refreshing lemon milkshakes (like a creamy freshly squeezed lemonade), and single men enjoying the hearty cooking of home. Service is languid, the decor a kitsch collage of Eritrean landscapes and London skylines, and there’s no drinks licence (but many non-alcoholic options). Still, at such prices these are minor grumbles.

In a bland modern development off Tooley Street, this branch of the South African-owned mini-group sticks to a winning formula, with a basement restaurant complementing the deli counters upstairs. Although there’s wine-themed decoration in the form of posters and crates, the climate-controlled cheese and wine rooms provide the most attractive element of the design. The list pays attention to all the classic French regions (Champagne is particularly well represented) but it’s difficult to avoid drifting back to the outstanding selection of South African wines. Some mark-ups are minimal - barely higher than the retail price - while others are fairly steep but not outrageous by London standards. There is a decent selection by the glass. The menu is international in scope with an emphasis on French and Italian cooking, but makes a special feature of dishes from the grill, including Pata Negra pork chops and a côte de boeuf for two people. The bar has a simple menu of cold dishes, especially platters of charcuterie.

This cavernous underground restaurant – all rich hues, carved wood and metal screens, reached by a winding staircase – is a bit groovier than its location, in an office complex off Liverpool Street, would suggest. It’s a pity, then, that the food doesn’t always match the decor. While perusing the menu, diners are presented with high-quality olives, a wide and fresh range of raw vegetables to dunk in minty cucumber and yoghurt dip, and excellent pickles: all complimentary. Tiger prawn falafel made an interesting departure from the norm, with minced prawns providing a pleasant lightness. Tiny Moroccan sausages were tart. Best stick to the carte, as our lunch specials (£10.95 for two courses) were dull. Starters in both vegetarian and meat meals relied heavily on pastry that tasted reheated, and thus was soggy when it should be crisp. Houmous was bland too. The wine list has a number of Lebanese options, yet is largely unexciting. The restaurant’s name means ‘treasure’ in Arabic, but despite its looks, the venue has all the soul and originality of a Dubai nightclub. Belly dancers feature at night, when cocktails also come into play.  

Named after an ancient port on the Red Sea, this coffee- and spice-scented restaurant provides a large and lovely Eritrean feast – though note that the lunchtime opening hours can be rather erratic. It’s an interesting-looking venue: lots of dark furniture, a bar-front studded with seaside rocks, and walls punctuated with little alcoves containing random finds (from Aladdin lamps to model ships to old-fashioned dial phones). The menu has some intriguing additions too, though, sadly, the linseed stew wasn’t available on our visit. We settled for a chilli-scattered dish of crushed fava beans, stewed long in olive oil and onions and served with piles of toasted pitta.There are also fish dishes, as well as tender, fragrant ground-beef kitfo and other spicy stews. The sharing platters showcase the star turns on both meat and vegetarian fronts: little dollops of chicken or lamb stew (fried tripe, also available, doesn’t figure on these platters), spicy chickpeas or lentils, fried greens and spinach with cottage cheese. Big-flavoured dishes like this call for a long cold drink, such as Savanna cider (from South Africa) and Tusker beer (Kenya), or there’s sweet, delicately spiced Eritrean honey wine.  

This colourful Old Kent Road restaurant proves something of a hit with local Nigerians looking for a taste of home. There’s a choice of two dining areas: the smarter executive suite (which can also be hired for events) and the main dining room, which is less pristine but equally popular. Diners come here to wolf down large Nigerian-style portions of cowfoot, spiced chicken gizzards, fish pepper soup, jollof rice and peppered snails. Tilapia with fried plantain, grilled chicken with couscous and salad, and tiger prawns in a chilli and garlic sauce also feature.  There's another branch in Hendon, and another back in Abuja, Nigeria, should you really get the taste for it.  

This quick-fix open all-week spot has taken fusion to a new level with new-fangled spins on South African bunny chow - Durban’s comforting curry-in-a-loaf staple. After selling bunnies from a food truck and then a pop-up in Shoreditch, the team who set up Bunnychow have switched its allegiance and turned the dial down low on its South African roots.  The chilli-flecked mutton curry has gone, and in its place is a globetrotting choice of wacky fillings - haddock chowder, Cumberland sausage and blue cheese, and even an all-day English breakfast. We’re missing the masala, the mess, and the chilli kicks.  By Roopa Gulati

A family-run North African restaurant that serves up salads, kemia (mezze), pastries, couscous and tajines traditional to Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia. All in a cave-like setting of reds and dark wood, with fabric across the ceiling.