Why London’s BYOB Scene Spans 36 Countries (and what to drink in their restaurants)

Forty years ago, if you wanted to eat proper shatkora beef curry – made with the sharp citrus fruit from Sylhet – you flew to Bangladesh. Bhuna khichuri wasn’t something curry houses served to British customers. It was comfort food cooked at home. The Vietnamese cafés weren’t offering ca kho to or bun bo hue. Finding proper Adana kebab cooked over charcoal required a trip to Turkey.

Now you can eat all of these within a few miles of each other in London, often at restaurants where BYOB removes the financial barrier to trying something completely unfamiliar. Migration made these cuisines local. BYOB made exploration affordable.

Our guide covers 180+ restaurants across 36 countries. Not because we’re chasing numbers, but because that’s what actually exists in London’s BYOB landscape – many are family-run spots, cooking regional dishes you won’t find on high street menus, operating unlicensed or offering strategic corkage because it’s how they’ve always done it or because they need to fill Monday tables.

Here’s what’s worth trying, based on 30+ years of wine trade experience and dishes these restaurants actually serve. But fear not, I’m not going through all 36 cuisines – they’ll be in the guide accompanying book I’m working on!

The Bangladeshi Correction

Most people think Brick Lane is Indian restaurants. It’s not. It’s Bangladeshi restaurants that spent decades marketing themselves as “Indian” because that’s what tourists expected to see.

The difference matters. Bangladeshi cooking uses shatkora – a citrus fruit from Sylhet with a flavour somewhere between lime zest and bitter orange. You’ll find chital fish kofte (sweetwater fish dumplings) and boal fish fry – meaty, firm fish coated in slightly sweet sauce. These aren’t “Indian curry house” dishes. They’re regional Bangladeshi cooking that curry houses avoided because they assumed British customers wouldn’t order them.

We have many Bangladeshi restaurants in our guide, all unlicensed and offering free corkage. Established, family-run restaurants with second or third generation in charge now, still cooking food that reflects Sylheti home cooking rather than what sells to stag parties.

For wine: Chenin Blanc from South Africa or Spanish Albariño. The acidity cuts through richness, the citrus notes work with shatkora’s tang without fighting it. Off-dry works better than bone-dry – you need some fruit weight to handle the complexity.

This is what Brick Lane was before the gastropubs arrived.

Georgia Isn’t Just Khachapuri

Small restaurants run by Georgian families. Qvevri wines on the list if they’re licensed, but most welcome you bringing your own.

Khinkali are soup dumplings the size of your fist – twisted tops, spiced meat filling, hot broth inside. The technique: bite the top, suck the broth, eat the dumpling, leave the twisted knob on your plate as a tally. Get it wrong, and you spray yourself with meat juice. Get it right, and you understand why Georgians have made these for centuries.

The Georgian restaurants in our guide offer free corkage. Refreshingly authentic establishments, certainly not performing Georgian identity for Instagram. They’re family operations cooking what they grew up eating, adapted slightly for London ingredients but fundamentally unchanged.

For wine: If you want to stick with the theme, bring qvevri amber wine. Skin-contact whites aged in buried clay amphorae, tannin structure like light reds, oxidative notes from extended lees contact. The tannic grip pairs well with fatty dumplings more than you’d expect. Or bring Saperavi, Georgia’s main red grape, with high acidity, dark fruit, and the ability to handle richness without overwhelming delicate spicing.

Or if you want recommendations that are less “wine-geeky” (and easier to find), try a Chianti Classico or a Beaujolais – both with characteristics similar to Georgian wines.

Vietnamese Food Beyond Pho

We have eight Vietnamese restaurants in our guide, six of which offer free corkage. Most are small cafés with plastic furniture, laminated menus, and family-run operations that have been on Kingsland Road or in East London since the 1980s and 90s. The sort of joint appreciated by the late, great Anthony Bourdain.

The dishes worth ordering: gỏi cuốn (summer rolls) – rice paper, prawns, vermicelli, mint, coriander, Thai basil, dipped in nước chấm (fish sauce, lime, garlic, chilli). Bún bò Huế – spicy beef noodle soup from central Vietnam with lemongrass and shrimp paste, proper depth, not the tourist version. Cà kho tộ – caramelised fish in claypots.

These are regional Vietnamese dishes, not the pho and spring rolls that became shorthand for “Vietnamese food” in Western cities.

For wine: Grüner Veltliner from Austria or Albariño from Rías Baixas. Grüner’s white pepper and citrus peel notes mirror the herbs without overpowering them. Albariño’s natural salinity from Atlantic coastal vineyards makes it perfect for fish sauce and lime. Both have enough acidity to reset your palate between bites.

Whilst many people bring beer or nothing at all, they’re missing out. The acidity and aromatics in these wines elevate the food in ways lager can’t.

Korea, Chianti, and Why It Works

The Korean restaurant in our guide has both free corkage and a Michelin Bib Gourmand. We love that kind of combination! It’s family-run in a railway arch in Hackney.

To eat. Bulgogi: thinly sliced beef marinated in soy sauce, sesame oil, garlic, sugar, grilled and served with rice and banchan (side dishes). Sweet and savoury at once. The marinade is the key – it penetrates the meat, caramelises on the grill, and creates layers of flavour that need wine with structure.

For wine: the pairing that surprises people – Chianti. Sangiovese’s high acidity balances the sweetness in the marinade better than fruit-forward reds. The tannins are fine-grained enough not to clash with soy and sesame. It works where softer, riper wines turn flabby.

Pinot Noir is the safer choice – red fruit, moderate tannin, doesn’t overwhelm. But Chianti is the insider move that makes sommeliers nod when you mention it.

Japan and the Sherry Argument

We’ve just added a Japanese restaurant to our guide – a welcome return after a relocation. Counter seating, free corkage, tempura done properly – prawns and vegetables in light batter, fried fast, served immediately while still crisp.

Most people bring sake or beer. Both miss the opportunity.

The better pairing: Manzanilla sherry from Sanlúcar de Barrameda. Bone-dry, aged under flor yeast, saline bite from Atlantic coastal cellars. The salinity cuts through the batter, the dryness resets your palate, and the nutty complexity from biological ageing works with tempura’s delicate flavours without overpowering them.

Or Champagne if you have the budget – the acidity does similar work, the mousse scrubs your palate between bites, the autolytic character from lees ageing adds depth.

This isn’t about showing off. It’s about wine that actually improves the food rather than just accompanying it.

Malaysian Rendang Isn’t Thai Curry

We’re delighted to have a Malaysian restaurant in our guide, and it has free corkage to boot. It’s family-run, with proper Rendang that takes hours to make (but not very long to eat!).

The Rendang is slow-cooked beef in coconut milk and a spice paste (lemongrass, galangal, turmeric, chillies, shallots, garlic) that is reduced until the sauce is thick, dark, and intensely flavoured. The beef should be tender but not falling apart, coated in paste rather than swimming in liquid. It’s not the Thai curry we know commercially; it has a different spice balance, a different cooking technique, and a completely different flavour profile.

For wine with beef rendang: Syrah from Northern Rhône or South Australia. The structure matches the meat; the dark fruit and spice notes complement the paste without competing; the tannins handle the richness. For chicken rendang (lighter spicing, less intense): off-dry Riesling from Mosel or Rheingau. The sweetness tames the heat, the acidity cuts the coconut milk, and the aromatic complexity matches the spice layers.

If you’ve only eaten Pad Thai and thought that covered Southeast Asian food, this is where to recalibrate.

Taiwan’s Dumpling Technique

Taiwanese cooking is too often lumped in with its neighbours, but its dumpling technique is a distinct art worth seeking out. Xiǎo lóng bāo style but with pork and cabbage filling, thin wrappers that hold together without tearing, served with black vinegar and chilli oil. The technique matters – good dumplings have enough juice inside to require careful eating, enough wrapper integrity not to fall apart, enough flavour not to rely entirely on the dipping sauce.

For wine: Pinot Noir from Burgundy or any cooler climate New World; the acidity handles pork fat, and the red fruit doesn’t overwhelm the delicate filling. Or sparkling wine from Cava, Franciacorta, or English vineyards – the effervescence cuts richness, works with vinegar’s acidity, refreshes between dumplings.

Late-night eating, small plates, low-key atmosphere. Don’t overthink it.

Lebanese Mezze and the Rosé Principle

We keep adding Lebanese restaurants to our guide. Amazing food, most have free corkage, and are bustling places with communal tables, designed for groups, and are family-run.

This is (one of the) spiritual homes of Mezze. Hummus, baba ghanoush, moutabal, tabbouleh, fattoush, grilled halloumi, muhammara (red pepper and walnut dip), labneh, pickled vegetables, warm flatbread. Multiple small dishes, contrasting textures and flavours, meant to be shared and eaten slowly.

For wine: Assyrtiko from Santorini – volcanic soils produce wines with laser-like acidity and mineral backbone that cuts through tahini, olive oil, and yoghurt. Or Provence rosé – bone-dry, versatile enough to handle variety without clashing with anything on the table. Some friends swear by NZ Sauvignon Blanc.

The beauty of Mezze is that you’re not trying to match one wine to one dish. You’re finding a wine with enough acidity and neutrality to work across a spread. Assyrtiko and dry rosé both do that job. Great with friends, conversation, and a variety of bottles.

Iranian Home Cooking Takes Three Hours

Persian restaurants are now on our radar. Our BYOB entrants are often neighbourhood cafés with plastic tables and serious food.

Ghormeh sabzi: lamb stew with fenugreek, parsley, coriander, kidney beans, dried Persian limes. Simmered until the herbs break down into a thick, dark green sauce and the lamb becomes tender. The dried limes add a distinctive sour-bitter note that defines the dish.

This is something different. Forget ubiquitous kebabs and tikka masala. This is Persian home cooking that requires time and technique, adapted from recipes that haven’t changed much in generations.

For wine: Cabernet Sauvignon from Bordeaux, California, or Chile – structure matches lamb, tannins handle richness, dark fruit works with the savoury depth. Or Pinot Gris from Alsace if you prefer white with herb-forward dishes – fuller texture than Pinot Grigio, enough weight to stand up to the stew.

Pakistani Biryani and the Cricket Test

The Pakistani restaurants in our guide are all free corkage, all unlicensed. Busy, loud, cricket on TV screens, queues at the door on Friday and Saturday nights.

Proper biryani: basmati rice layered with spiced meat (lamb, chicken, or goat), saffron, fried onions, sealed with dough and slow-cooked in a heavy pot so the steam cooks everything together. The rice absorbs the meat juices, the saffron tints it yellow, and the fried onions add sweetness and texture. Served with raita (yoghurt with cucumber and mint).

This is celebratory food, even if served in a humble restaurant. While you’re there, make it a feast and order the famous lamb chops – grilled over charcoal with spices and served sizzling. They’re famous for good reason.

For wine: dry rosé from Provence or Navarra – acidity balances spice, red-berry notes work with the sweetness from fried onions, low tannin doesn’t clash with yoghurt. Or Grenache from Southern Rhône or Spain, if you want red – soft tannins, ripe fruit, handles richness without overwhelming the delicate saffron notes.

Sri Lankan Hoppers Aren’t Dosas

Sri Lankan restaurants are a welcome addition to our guide. Small, family-run, cooking food that’s less familiar to most Londoners than Indian cuisine, despite sharing some ingredients.

Hoppers (appa): bowl-shaped pancakes made from fermented rice flour and coconut milk, crisp edges, soft centre, sometimes with an egg cracked in the middle and served with various curries and sambal (spicy coconut relish).

The fermentation gives hoppers a slightly sour note that dosas don’t have. The coconut milk adds richness. The shape creates textural variety – crisp around the rim, tender in the centre.

For wine: Grüner Veltliner from Austria – acidity handles coconut milk, citrus notes work with sambal’s heat without amplifying it. Or off-dry Riesling from Germany – sweetness tames chilli, acidity cuts richness, aromatic complexity matches the spice layers.

Different spicing than Indian food, with a different balance of heat and richness; worth exploring if you’re curious about South Asian cuisines beyond the familiar.

North Africa: Three Countries, Different Approaches

Ethiopia – Doro wat at two small cafés, both with free corkage. Slow-cooked chicken in a berbere spice blend (chillies, cardamom, fenugreek, coriander, cumin, black pepper, cinnamon) served on injera (a spongy fermented flatbread made from teff flour). The injera soaks up the sauce; you tear off pieces and use them to scoop the stew, communal eating.

Bring orange wine – skin-contact whites from Georgia, Slovenia, or Friuli with tannin structure that handles berbere’s complexity without amplifying heat. Or off-dry Riesling if you want something gentler – the sweetness tames spice, the acidity refreshes.

Morocco – Lamb tagine with cinnamon, saffron, and prunes at two Moroccan spots, both with free corkage. Slow-braised until the lamb is tender, the sauce is rich, and the dried fruit has plumped up and sweetened the whole dish.

Bring Provence rosé – bone-dry structure cuts the sweetness from prunes, moderate alcohol doesn’t amplify spice. Or Chenin Blanc from Loire – waxy texture handles richness, acidity works with preserved lemons.

Tunisia – Harissa-spiced lamb with couscous, preserved lemons, and merguez sausage at one Tunisian spot, free corkage. A newer addition to London’s North African BYOB scene, less well-known than Moroccan restaurants, but cooking similar food with different spice balances.

Bring Grenache from Southern Rhône or Spain – red fruit balances harissa heat without clashing, soft tannins work with lamb. Or Albariño from Rías Baixas if you want white – high acidity, saline notes from Atlantic coast, handles spice without getting overwhelmed.

These aren’t restaurants performing “exotic” identity. They’re neighbourhood spots, often unlicensed for religious or economic reasons, cooking food that reflects home traditions adapted to London ingredients. I spent many a Sunday afternoon with my children when they were growing up, enjoying Hoummous, Merguez sausages and various Tagines when we weren’t having a roast at home.

South America: Asado and Arepas

Colombia – Bandeja paisa (mixed platter: beans, rice, chicharrón, avocado, plantain, arepa, fried egg) at one Colombian restaurant, £5 corkage. Huge portions designed for sharing or for very hungry people. Regional dish from Antioquia, hearty mountain food, everything on one plate.

Bring Chilean Carménère: herbal notes suit the variety of ingredients, moderate tannins don’t overwhelm, and there is enough fruit to handle it all. Or Malbec from Argentina – ripe fruit, soft tannins, works across the plate.

Argentina – Asado (charcoal-grilled steak) at eight Argentine steakhouses in our guide. Seven offer free Monday corkage. Premium venues like Gaucho deploy Monday BYOB strategically – it fills tables on slow nights, creates atmosphere, and brings in wine collectors who might not come otherwise.

Bring Malbec from Mendoza: the obvious choice, with high-altitude fruit and structure for fattier cuts. Or Cabernet Sauvignon from Chile or Argentina for premium cuts – more structure, ages better, justifies bringing something from your cellar rather than buying on the night.

Plan for Mondays. Save £££ compared to list prices and enjoy steak cooked by people who’ve been doing it for decades.

What This Actually Represents

Our guide started as insider knowledge for wine trade professionals – where you could road-test samples, bring special bottles without awkward conversations, or take clients without wine list markups destroying the budget. Thirty years in the wine business builds that intelligence base.

It’s expanded beyond the trade because the same principle applies to anyone: BYOB removes the financial risk from trying unfamiliar food. You can order Uyghur hand-pulled noodles, Afghan dumplings, or Kurdish walnut sauce without risking the cost of a meal that you’ll like. Bring an inexpensive bottle, see what happens, and learn something.

Migration made cuisines from 36 countries local to London. BYOB made exploration affordable. The combination means you can eat food that didn’t exist in this city forty years ago without betting your budget on whether you’ll enjoy it.

Two parallel BYOB cultures operate in London. Migrant BYOB remains rooted in necessity and cultural identity – unlicensed family restaurants operating with free BYOB, facing pressure from rising costs and no mechanism to offset through alcohol sales. Premium BYOB operates as a strategy and yield management: licensed restaurants offering Monday corkage to fill soft nights, creating destination evenings out of what used to be dead tables.

Both exist in our guide because both exist in London. The Kurdish café in Peckham with free corkage and plastic chairs. The Michelin-starred restaurant charges £50 to bring your Burgundy. Same behaviour pattern, completely different worlds, united by the fact that bringing your own bottle is welcome.

180+ restaurants. 36 countries. Verified corkage policies, updated continuously as things change. Not a static “best BYOB” list that names the same handful of usual suspects with outdated information, but live intelligence that reflects what actually exists right now.

Alastair Cassie
Founder, BYOB City Guides™

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