Trinity Restaurant Clapham

The voice and reading of this article were created using artificial intelligence.

I only found out about Trinity Restaurant because of YouTube. Gordon Ramsay on TopJaw. They asked him: best restaurant in London? He didn’t even blink. “Upstairs at Trinity.”

That was enough for me. I live in Clapham. If Ramsay says the best spot is basically on my doorstep, I’ve got no excuse.

Thing is, from the street you’d never know. It’s tucked away in Clapham Old Town, at 4 The Polygon. You could walk past it on your way to Clapham Common and not think twice.

Step inside though and it’s two different worlds. Downstairs has the Michelin star polish, white tablecloths, open kitchen, the kind of dining room you’d book for a special evening. Upstairs? Total opposite. Big open windows, chatter bouncing off the walls, plates arriving one after the other. Casual, fun. But the food is still deadly serious.

What hit me wasn’t just the menu. It was how we were treated. The team didn’t just drop plates, they hosted us. Explained how it all worked, what they liked, what the regular diners kept coming back for.

And the food? “It’s the kind that makes you stop mid-conversation and just grin.”

That’s when I knew this wasn’t just another local restaurant. Trinity could hold its own in Mayfair. But it belongs right here in Clapham.

My first meal at Trinity Restaurant was upstairs. Lunchtime. I figured I’d start there before trying the formal dining roomdownstairs.

We kicked it off with the Trinity Reform Bread and a glass of Gavi wine. The bread was unreal, charred, chewy, salty. I ended up ordering another round, which I almost never do.

Then the plates started coming one by one. Seasonal tomatoes with courgettes and smoked almonds, light and fresh, like summer on a plate. Purple sprouting broccoli with anchovy bagna cauda and hazelnuts, salty, nutty, addictive.

And the cauliflower. Served like a steak, sitting on poblano crema. Rich, peppery, comforting. “If it’s on the menu, get it.”

Honestly one of the best veg dishes I’ve ever had.

But it wasn’t just the food. It was the service. Our host wasn’t just taking orders , she was laughing with us, explaining how it all worked, telling us what she liked and what the regulars always went for. It felt like being let in on a secret.

That lunch had it all, indulgent but somehow healthy at the same time. And by the end I got it. I understood exactly why Ramsay had called it the best in London.

A few weeks later I was back at Trinity. This time with a couple of mates from Romania who were over for London Tech Week. They landed stupidly early, couldn’t check into their hotel until the afternoon, so I told them to come crash at mine in Clapham. They grabbed a quick nap on the sofa and when they woke up, I said: let’s go to Trinity.

I’d already done upstairs, so I booked us into the formal dining room downstairs. Felt like the right way to give them a proper treat, and if I’m honest, I fancied it too.

The room had that Michelin star feel. Smart, elegant. Definitely a level above how we were dressed, but the team didn’t care. They welcomed us straight in, explained how the four-course menu worked, talked my mates through it all.

We spread out across the options. Courgette and herbs, fresh and clean. A plate topped with caviar and neat little dots of crème fraîche that looked almost too perfect to touch. Raw tuna that was so delicate you barely had to chew it. Then a fish course of salmon with cucumber and roe, sharp, balanced, bang on.

The main was beef. Pink, juicy, with a gravy so good it stopped us mid-sentence. Dessert sealed it, a soufflé that rose perfectly, ice cream sinking into the middle, and a dark chocolate tart to finish.

“It’s not the cheapest at £100 a head, but for a treat experience on a special occasion it’s worth saving the pennies, you won’t regret it. I’m going back for my birthday and may host the Company Christmas lunch there”

Nicu and Alessandro are both proper foodies, and they were blown away. Halfway through they just said: “Next time we’re back in London, we’re coming here again.” That told me everything I needed to know.

The more times I’ve eaten at Trinity Restaurant, the more I’ve realised it’s really about the bloke running the show, Adam Byatt.

He’s done his time in proper kitchens. Claridge’s. The Square under Phil Howard. Places where precision is everything. He even popped up on Hell’s Kitchen back in 2007, trying to keep a bunch of celebrities from completely losing the plot.

When he opened Trinity in 2006, he wasn’t chasing a flashy West End trophy. His self-set mission was simple: build a neighbourhood restaurant in Clapham Old Town that served great food people would come back for. Nearly twenty years later, that’s still exactly what it is.

He could’ve expanded, chased more sites in London. Instead, he kept it rooted at 4 The Polygon and just kept making it better. That’s how you hold onto a Michelin star since 2016, land a #4 spot in the National Restaurant Awards, and win Michelin’s Mentor Chef award.

What I like most is how local it feels. The honey in that soufflé comes from hives on Clapham Common. The meat’s from Moen’s, the fish from Moxon’s. During lockdown, his Bistro Union down the road turned into a community shop. That’s not just about plates in a dining room. That’s about being part of the town.

One of the things I love about Trinity is you basically get two restaurants in one.

Downstairs is the flagship. The dining room has that smart Michelin star polish, white tablecloths, open kitchen, the kind of place where the sommelier glides over with a glass of wine you’d never have thought to order. The four-course menuhas a rhythm to it. Each dish feels deliberate, the service is slick, and it’s where you book for a special evening or a proper dinner when you want to be taken on a journey.

Upstairs is completely different. My first meal there started with bread and a glass of Gavi and before long plates were landing one by one, tomatoes with courgettes and smoked almonds, purple sprouting broccoli with anchovy bagna cauda, and that cauliflower I still think about. The room was buzzing, windows open onto Clapham Old Town, the teamlaughing and pointing out what the regular guests always order.

“Upstairs felt like a secret you only tell close friends about. Downstairs felt like stepping into a Michelin-starred temple of food, but one that still wanted you to relax.”

That mix is rare. Most restaurants pick one lane and stay there. Trinity somehow pulls off both, because at the heart of it the philosophy’s the same: seasonal food, cooked well, and served with real care.

The magic of Trinity Restaurant is the food. That’s the obvious bit. But it’s worth saying. Every dish feels thought through, but never fussy. Refined without being stingy. Generous, actually. The kind of cooking that makes you want to book again before you’ve even left.

On my first visit upstairs, the small plates surprised me. Seasonal tomatoes with courgettes and smoked almonds, light, refreshing, like a plate of summer. Purple sprouting broccoli with anchovy bagna cauda and hazelnuts, salty, nutty, properly addictive.

And the cauliflower. Served like a steak, sat on poblano crema. Rich, peppery, comforting. “If it’s on the menu, get it.”Honestly one of the best vegetable dishes I’ve had anywhere.

Downstairs at Sunday lunch, it was the beef that won. Pink, juicy, with a gravy so good the table went quiet for a second. Dessert wasn’t far behind, a soufflé that rose perfectly, ice cream sinking into the middle, sweet with local Clapham honey.

Then there are the signatures people talk about. The Sutton Hoo chicken with pommes mousseline, looks simple, eats like perfection. The sardine “bolognese” dumpling in tomato butter, a joke in name only, because the flavour is serious. And that honey soufflé, tying the whole place back to Clapham Common.

What stood out across both meals was how it was served. The team didn’t just drop plates. They told us about them, gave context, sometimes smiling like they were letting you in on a secret.That’s what I mean when I say it’s not just delicious. It’s food that makes you stop mid-sentence, look at your mates, and just nod..

The food gets you through the door at Trinity. No doubt. But it’s the service that makes you remember it.

Downstairs, they’ve got a proper sommelier. Big wine list, hundreds of bottles, but it doesn’t feel scary. No nonsense, no pushing the most expensive. Just someone who clearly knows their stuff and points you to the right glass. One pairing turned a good dish into a great one. You notice that.

Upstairs is different. More energy. The host we had was laughing, chatting, telling us what she liked and what the regulars usually ordered. Felt more like being looked after in someone’s home than just being served.

Truth is, the team at Trinity don’t just deliver plates. They make you feel like a proper guest. And that’s rare in London.

What I like about Trinity is it’s not parachuted in. It belongs here. You see it in the details. The honey in the soufflé? From hives on Clapham Common. Meat from Moen’s, fish from Moxon’s, both round the corner. Even their gin kicks money back to charity. And they’ve raised close to ten grand for the hospice down the road. That’s local.

Then there are the extras. Downstairs you’ve got things like Tableside, eight seats right by the kitchen, watching it happen in front of you. Upstairs, the Sunday Lunch Club is basically a local ritual now. Big tables, plates flying out, everyone relaxed. In summer, they even park a truck outside on the Polygon and sell sandwiches and fries.

One week you’re having four courses in the dining room, the next you’re stood outside with a sandwich and a smile. That mix keeps people coming back.

The two rooms couldn’t feel more different. That’s what I love about it.

Downstairs is calm. Smart. You sit down for dinner and before you know it, hours have gone. The open kitchen ticks away quietly, the team moving without a fuss. It feels grown-up, but not stiff like some other restaurants in London.

Upstairs is the opposite. Windows open onto Clapham Old Town, chatter bouncing off the walls, dishes landing one after the other. Lively. Social. Almost like a café, if cafés served Michelin star food.

Either way, you feel looked after. And that’s rare.

Let’s be honest, it’s not cheap. A proper Sunday dinner downstairs is about a hundred quid a head, before the wine. Upstairs is easier, you can just pick a couple of plates, but it’s still more than your average meal in Clapham.

I noticed it most at that Sunday lunch with my Romanian mates. Four courses, nothing missed, everything bang on. When the bill came I didn’t flinch. Because I knew it was worth it.

It’s the kind of place you save for special evenings. But you never walk out thinking about what it cost. You walk out thinking about the flavours, the service, and the look on your mates’ faces when that soufflé hit the table.

The more times I’ve eaten here, the more I’ve realised it’s not just about the food. Yeah, the plates are seasonal and delicious. But the bigger story is the place itself.

When Adam Byatt opened back in 2006, his goal was simple: build a neighbourhood restaurant in Clapham Old Townthat people would come back to. Not a flashy West End spot, not something designed for Instagram. Just a proper place.

Nearly twenty years later, he’s still at it. Michelin star since 2016, #4 in the National Restaurant Awards, Mentor Chef award under his belt. All impressive, but the part I like? It still feels local. The suppliers. The charity work. The fact he never left 4 The Polygon.

And his kitchen is basically a training ground now. Young chefs come through, go on to open other restaurants or take what they’ve learned into London’s food scene. You feel that heritage in the menu.

That’s why Trinity matters. Not just a one-off. It’s part of Clapham, part of the town, part of the bigger dining story.

Every time I’ve walked out of Trinity, the same thought: how on earth is this in Clapham? It could sit in Mayfair, Park Lane, wherever, but it’s here, on 4 The Polygon. Our local.

For me it’s the small things. Bread so good I ordered more. A soufflé that shut us up mid-chat. The team treating us like guests, not just another table to turn. Those moments stick.

Truth is, “Trinity isn’t a one-off. It’s the place you keep coming back to, because somehow every meal feels like a special one.”

That’s why Ramsay called it the best in London. That’s why Nicu and Alessandro want it again when they’re next over. And it’s why I’ll keep nudging people: go. 

Just go.

I’d love to hear about it. Places like Trinity in Clapham Old Town matter more than we realise, especially once they’re gone.

Address: 4 The Polygon, Clapham Common, London SW4 0JG, England

Telpehone: 020 7622 1199

Website: https://trinityrestaurant.co.uk