Logma

You're walking down Goldsmiths Row in Shoreditch and you catch the smell of charred bread and za'atar before you even clock the place. Logma is doing things properly—hummus that's actually fluffy, flatbreads still warm from the tannoor, lamb that's been thinking about itself for hours. It's the kind of spot where they're not trying to be clever about it; the food speaks loud enough. The room itself feels lived-in rather than designed, which is exactly what you want when you're eating this well.