Sodaeng is a relative newcomer to London’s restaurant scene — a reincarnation of the popular restaurant of the same name in Edinburgh, which made the move south in 2021. Specialising in traditional Korean cauldron cooking, the milky pork bone soup is hearty yet nourishing with a delicately clean taste. A side of rice and the complimentary trio of pickles make this meal complete. —Tanita de Ruijt 

Pitanga’s take on this classic Nigerian dish, favoured for its fragrant nuttiness and discreet heat, comes crafted with tender regard by chef Nky Iweka. The potency of Iweka’s comforting soup comes from its stock — a rich and crimson mélange punctuated by West African palm oil, smoked prawns, scotch bonnet chillies, and flaked stockfish. Thickened by lightly toasted ground egusi, the soup is almost buoyant in texture and clings onto every morsel of pounded yam or eba that’s thrown its way. —Lucas Oakeley

The okra isn’t the most exciting order at Masgouf, the five-site London restaurant group named after Iraq’s national dish: seasoned grilled carp. No, it’s the lamb kouzi and kebab skewers that are thrilling; but sometimes comforts come before thrills, and that’s when the usually reserved bamia speaks up. A warming plateful of steamed rice served with a tangy and ever-so-slightly crunchy tomato and okra stew feels like eating a hug, and makes even the coldest afternoon sunsets a bit more bearable. The bamia isn’t just basic; it is essential. —Maazin Buhari

A seemingly endless autumn-winter can only be cured by one thing: stodge. That includes ceremonious biryani, brothy noodles, hearty shepherd’s pie, or just a huge Sunday roast. One contender is the spicy merguez meatballs, served on a bed of light, brothy moghrabieh and topped with cooling yoghurt, at the Camberwell Arms. Order it along with a couple of other dishes, and feel it warm the cockles of your heart. —Apoorva Sripathi

Windows steamed up and bristling with energy on a wet Wednesday at barely 6 p.m., Cadet diners that look up from chatting over glasses of wine can gawp at the hulking spoonfuls of butter that chef Jamie Smart hoicks into pots of mussels, before closing the lid and letting heat and time perform alchemy. With the assistance of garlic and chunks of stale bread, what emerges is a plate of glisteningly fat orange lads, tasting of the waters they lived in, now bathing in a new tide pool of molten butter. The bread? As pleasingly sopped as those queueing outside, to get in and join the throng. —James Hansen

London’s first Honduran restaurant opened without a name on Old Kent Road earlier this summer, but in the meantime has titled itself Sazon Catracho, and the weather has chilled to the point where its menu of heavy, stodgy things — that weigh on the stomach as much as anything eaten in a Bavarian food hall — have become extremely welcome. Yes there are pastelitos, pupusas, and carne asada, but come for the baleadas. They’re pleasingly malformed, betraying the work of a human hand in the tortilla dough, and stuffed with barely scrambled curds of egg, hard cheese, and a sour crema. Because this is winter, adding chicken or beef might be an idea, but it doesn’t need anything apart from the amethyst-hued Kilner jar of curtido within reaching distance. It’s extraordinarily simple, the kind of dish that wouldn’t be allowed at a faux-Mexican restaurant in London because it’s too filling, but it will line the belly marvellously and hold all and everyone in good stead for cuffing season. —Jonathan Nunn

The lunch menu at Esters nearly always features a soup, and currently, it’s a butter bean bowl with kohlrabi, leeks, parsley pesto, and Lancashire cheese, with the usual option of a poached egg addition. There are few things more capable of staving off the dreariness of a dimly lit, grey London afternoon than a bit of provincial cooking, and Esters is a cafe most reliably suited to do it well. Brothy, veg-dense soup with the smush of a fatty bean and a lick of sticky cheese, plus a crusty corner of bread to sop it up: proper winter food for the soul. —Nathalie Nelles

Barbecued foods may be associated with summer, but JB’s Soul Food’s jerk chicken has a soothing depth that immediately warms the body. Silken chicken flesh, surrounded by the immensely gratifying char of its skin, and the jerk sauce on top blending the allspice, scotch bonnet, and brown sugar to create a superlative balance between sweet, hot, and fragrant. —Joel Hart

“Tortellini season,” chef Mitchell Damota, current resident at P. Franco, wrote on 29 November. Rarely do two words conjure quite such an atmosphere. Just as there are few better places to be on the cusp of autumn/winter than in the cosy embrace of an Emilia-Romagnan trattoria, in London right now Clapton’s inimitable wine bar is hard to beat. Better still with a bowl of steaming hot broth, loaded with tiny parcels of meat-filled tortellini. —Adam Coghlan

Offering staunch and rich insulation against the cold and general malaise of 2020, these two dishes will lift low spirits. On the weekdays, nihari, shimmering with ghee and the gentle heat of ginger; on weekends, it has to be the creamy haleem, a deep earthy dish with layers of enveloping spice, mopped up carefully with fluffy, crispy kulcha naan. —Shekha Vyas