Matteolikesfood

British food is often easier to define than to find in London. It tends to live quietly inside pubs, slightly removed from the city’s louder culinary trends.

We went to Rules in Covent Garden, the oldest restaurant in the city, opened in 1798 by Thomas Rule.

Inside, very little seems to have changed. Thick carpets soften the room. Paintings cover the walls. There are horns, skulls, and chandeliers. It feels less like a restaurant and more like a preserved interior, something held in place.

We started upstairs, at the cocktail bar. Classic, composed, almost theatrical. Then downstairs, where the dining room carries the same tone, but with more weight.

The menu leans heavily into game, much of it sourced from their own estate. We ordered across it: mutton, venison, dishes that feel rooted in a colder season.

The food is full, unapologetically rich. Not delicate, not trying to be. The meat was well-cooked, the flavours direct and satisfying. Wine helped carry it through, as it should.

Everything arrived quickly, almost with a sense of purpose, as if the kitchen understands exactly why you’re there.

It’s not a light meal, and it’s not meant to be. But it works.

I’ll go back. Probably in winter, when this kind of food feels less like a choice and more like a necessity.