Embracing the "small plates" fashion in London? Head for The Shed or Caravan.

Combining tapas-style small plates with high-end dining was radical when Gordon Ramsay introduced the concept at London's Maze in 2005. When I reviewed it two years later it was still unique, and still one of the hottest tables in town. The restaurant has been on a downward trajectory in recent years however, delivering a deep disappointment on a return visit in 2010, losing its Michelin star in 2015, changing its concept and scheduled for closure early this year.

The small plates revolution that Maze kicked off, however, has grown steadily to become a "new normal"; so much so that at least half of my Christmas-season holiday meals took place at restaurants built around the ethos. Establishments don't even bother to promote it in their marketing these days. You can just be reasonably certain that if you're confronted with a large menu on which most of the dishes are around the £10 mark, you're probably expected to order numerous items per person to graze and share.

I'm still not totally convinced by the trend. While it does help the greedy or indecisive to sample a wider range of what's on offer, I rarely come away from these evenings fully satisfied. And the bill usually feels pricier than what you'd pay for a standard three course meal. (Though this could be due to the fact that the grazing nature of the experience encourages more alcohol consumption.) There were two notable exceptions, however, in my pre-holiday dining rounds: The Shed and Caravan.

The Shed is the restaurant I dream of having in the Hampshire countryside, near my house, at which I'd become a regular. It's essentially a big garden shed decorated with old farming kit, oil barrels for table bases, the bones of an old John Deere tractor framing the bar. The menu celebrates English produce, is rigorously seasonal and scrupulous about citing its sources. Much of Shed's larder was bred or grown within a hundred miles. Dishes are simple in concept yet elegantly presented. At this time of year there's lots of game. The menu splits into "slow cooking" and "fast cooking", the former celebrating those succulent, traditionally meaty dishes that fall off the bone or vegetables that caramelise to sticky sweetness.

Sadly, this exquisite representation of the English countryside isn't in that countryside, but in one of London's priciest neighbourhoods ... on the borders of Notting Hill and Kensington, on a small lane snuggling up against the northwest corner of Kensington Palace Gardens. So you're likely to rack up a bit of a bill as you snack through delights like a single Lulworth scallop with caramelised artichoke served on its glorious shell, Sussex beef with truffle duxelles, heritage carrot hummus (top photo) or pheasant with spiced red cabbage. All in snack-sized plates to encourage you to share and order more.

We were particularly fond of the pulled pork "cigars", melt-in-your-mouth meat rolled into crispy, flaky pastry. While the scallop, however, pinpointed the drawbacks of the small plates idea. Each of us would have welcomed two or three of them as our own dish, rather than a third of one scallop, no matter how delicious the morsel. Fortunately, when it came to desert, their honeycomb crunchie dipped in chocolate, sitting on a little cloud of meringue, came out with individual pieces for all.


The Shed has an excellent wine list including ... as you'd expect ... a well-curated range of English options.

I can see why this place has been popular with Londoners since it opened in 2012. If you spend your day in the urban jungle, The Shed instantly transports you to the green and pleasant land beyond the M25.  If only the country pubs in my neighbourhood could meet this standard.

While The Shed celebrates England, Caravan draws its inspiration from almost everywhere else. Founded by three New Zealanders, they deliver a menu that is fusion in the extreme: Asian, Italian, South American, Eastern Mediterranean ... whatever you're in the mood for, you're likely to find a hint of it here. The casual, all-day dining vibe means the venues can feel as much like coffee shops (they roast their own beans) or trendy bars as they do restaurants. I've eaten at two of their five outlets, South Bank and City, and both have been consistent with quality, service, variety and fun.

Their jalapeño cornbread is probably the best I've had outside of Texas. Jamon croquetas (left) would make any Spanish bar owner proud. Feeling Italian? Try the nduja, cavolo nero and scamorza pizza. The menu can sometimes read like an exotic ingredient trivia contest: nam pla, hispi cabbage, ong choi, daikon, labneh, yuzu. You can tell the staff is used to explaining the menus. After three meals here I wouldn't worry much about the unknown: everything is great, making this a wonderful place to experiment.

I also like the way Caravan does both small plates and traditional dining. I've been here with a corporate group, ordering one of everything on the small plates menu and grazing throughout the evening. Just before Christmas I returned and treated it like a traditional three-course meal: small plate, large plate, dessert. Their confit duck with pomegranate and mint pesto, and their pork schnitzel with fried duck egg and mustard dill cream, are about as good as comfort food gets.

It's hard to believe Caravan is a chain. In fact, I didn't realise it the first time I ate here, so quirky, seasonal and distinctive is their whole approach. I wouldn't mind one of these turning up in North Hampshire, either. In the mean time, it's become a safe, go-to option in London whether I'm doing a festive graze with a big group, or an intimate meal for two.