Honey & Co

Honey & Co moved onto Lamb’s Conduit Street with more room to work with, but the generous, warm Middle Eastern cooking that built its reputation elsewhere hasn’t changed to fill the extra space. That’s not a given. Restaurants that grow out of a tiny, beloved original often lose something specific in the move — a sense of scarcity, a feeling that the room was only ever going to hold this many people and this much food.

Sarit Packer and Itamar Srulovich seem to have understood that risk clearly enough to avoid it, because the bigger Bloomsbury home still cooks like a restaurant that isn’t sure it’ll have room for you tomorrow.

The Room

Bright, busy, and genuinely welcoming — a bigger home than the original, without losing the neighbourhood feel that made the first site worth queuing for. Tables sit close enough that the room has real energy at peak times, but there’s enough space now that a party of four doesn’t feel like an imposition on the kitchen the way it sometimes did in the smaller original.

Natural light does a lot of work here during the day, and the open pass means you can watch the kind of unhurried, confident cooking that comes from two chefs who’ve been doing this together for a long time and have stopped needing to prove it.

What to Order

The shakshuka is the dish most people know Honey & Co for, and it’s worth ordering even if you’ve made a version at home — the balance of spice and acidity here is a genuine benchmark rather than a starting point for comparison. The Yemeni falafel is denser and more herb-forward than the London-standard version, and worth ordering specifically rather than assuming all falafel is interchangeable.

The aubergine shawarma does something clever with a vegetable that’s often treated as a meat substitute rather than a dish in its own right — smoky, properly seasoned, not apologising for not being meat.

And the honey and feta cheesecake on kadaif is the reason people plan the order of their meal around dessert: sweet and salty in a way that sounds like it shouldn’t work and very much does, built on a base of crisp shredded pastry rather than the usual biscuit crumb.

The Drinks List

A short, well-chosen list leaning Mediterranean and Levantine, built to complement rather than compete with food that’s already doing a lot of flavour work on its own. Nothing on it is trying to be the centrepiece of the evening, which is the correct call for a menu this generous with spice and acidity.

What You Will Pay

Around £35–45 per person for lunch or dinner with a couple of courses and a drink, which for the quality and the generosity of the portions is genuinely fair. This isn’t a restaurant that nickels-and-dimes you with small plates designed to be ordered five at a time to reach satiety — a couple of dishes and the cheesecake is a complete, satisfying meal.

The Verdict

Order the cheesecake before you’ve decided on anything else — it sells out, and asking at the end of the meal is a real risk. Beyond that, trust the kitchen’s own instincts about spicing rather than asking for anything toned down; the flavours here are meant to be direct.

Come with an appetite for sharing rather than picking a single main course and defending it — the menu clearly rewards a table that orders widely and passes plates around, which is closer to how the food is actually meant to be eaten than a strict starter-main structure would allow.

What’s Being Said

Two of London’s most respected small-restaurant chefs, given more space to work with — the cooking hasn’t had to compromise for it, and if anything the extra room has let a few dishes breathe that were previously constrained by a tiny kitchen and an even tinier dining room.

The bigger home was a genuine risk for a restaurant this beloved in its original form, and it’s paid off. The rating this review gives reflects a kitchen that used more space as an opportunity rather than a compromise, which is the harder outcome for any beloved small restaurant that expands.