Until a decade ago, this Southall stalwart, once known as Sagoo & Takhar, was the area’s most famous Punjabi restaurant. The standards are inconsistent now, and the place is quieter. However, it’s worth coming here for the one classic dish that it does better than anywhere else: sarson ka saag aur makki di roti. This rich, warming winter dish of mustard greens accompanied by sunflower-yellow cornmeal flatbreads, so beloved of Punjabi farmers, gets ex-pats misty-eyed with nostalgia. The leafy greens are ground into a thick paste and cooked in plenty of ghee with turnips or kohlrabi; a shower of ginger juliennes to cut through their bitter, peppery, astringent minerality. The best time to eat here is early in the day when the saag is freshly cooked and at its vibrant best. The large flatbread section is also superb; fenugreek leaf paratha being particularly alluring.

This modest mithai and namkeen shop has only a few tables as it’s primarily a takeaway, with packs of own-made sweets and nibbles stacked high on bright red shelves. Oversized suterfeni sit on countertops like bales of hay, along with pistachio-dressed slabs of mohanthal, halwas and barfis. However, the Punjabi samosas (there are several regional variations) are what everyone comes here for: good-sized but not bloated, with pastry that’s neither too thick nor too thin, and a balanced ratio of potato-to-pea filling. Most importantly, the spicing is as it should be, with whole coriander seeds, fennel seeds, and crushed dried pomegranate seeds (often missing in inferior versions.) The flavour is nuanced, with no over-powering chillies or masalas. There are excellent curries too, notably kidney bean, and spinach — but the samosas are the main draw.

This smart two-floor Southall venue is all clean lines and glossy surfaces. It’s been around for four decades — opened by the then 16- and 17-year-old siblings, Sanjeev and Sanjay Anand, whose grandfather Bishan Das Anand founded the well-regarded Brilliant Hotel in Nairobi. Madhu’s was their father Jagdish Kumar’s nickname; and in the early days, their mother Krishna Kumari was the head chef. Kenyan influences abound in dishes such as yoghurt-marinated baby poussin, and tender lamb ribs laminated with chilli and lemon. Fresh coriander-flecked pakoras in fennel-flavoured yoghurt kadhi, slender aubergines on a stem with baby potatoes, and butter chicken made to an old family recipe are among the most popular dishes. Cauliflower with fenugreek leaves is as good as what might be found in a Punjabi home kitchen; and dal makhani quietly trumps flashier versions found elsewhere. Don’t miss Punjabi samosas made with beautifully flaky ‘khasta’ pastry.

The immediately striking thing about this friendly, accessible dhaba in a quiet residential Southall street is its look: loud colours and rustic scenes of a Punjabi village, as channelled through the artistic sensibility of 1980s Bollywood movies. There are huge jewel-hued murals of truck drivers and women drawing water from a well, mismatched mirror-work chairs in shades of fuchsia and midnight-blue, a baffling life-size figure of a Sikh Papaji in pink kurta and turban, and sparkling lanterns casting shadows everywhere. A fairly standard but well-executed menu includes succulent cumin-spiked chicken wings; tender lamb with green peppers; glossy aubergine dotted with pickling spices; paneer lababdar in a sturdy tomato-onion sauce; and — best of all — black urad dal slow-cooked with butter on charcoal that gives it a distinctly smoky flavour. 

The buzzy riverside setting is the biggest draw here — but this contemporary North Indian diner, a new branch of the Kensington original, also benefits from gorgeous colours and textures, feel-good ambience, and a highly enthusiastic staff team. Sharbati atta roti made from wholemeal flour milled from sharbati, a superior golden variety of wheat grown in Madhya Pradesh, is a thinner, crisper, denser option to naan that’s well worth trying as it’s not available anywhere else. It’s perfect for scooping up aloo chana made from tea-infused black chickpeas with potatoes, and pahadi chicken spiked with cinnamon, ginger and fresh fenugreek leaves. Seating, both inside and outside, is an imaginative mix of high bar stools, round tables, and a converted pool table that’s something of a talking point.  

Ex-Gymkhana chefs Nand Kishor and Sanjay Gour’s cosy, contemporary, colourful North Indian in Epsom is extraordinarily popular, and it’s easy to see why: the reassuringly short menu is filled with very well-executed dishes such as guinea fowl and chicken seekh kabab with apple murabba, and lamb chops enlivened by kasundi mustard relish. Green-streaked spinach, potato and onion pakoras don’t just look pretty, they’re freshly fried and not the hard, overcooked ‘double fried’ lumps found in inferior restaurants. There’s more greenery in fragrant vegetable biryani, generously packed with asparagus, peas, and jerusalem artichokes — a combination that works surprisingly well, especially with the crunch of plentiful fried onions.

Chef Razdan and his wife Shweta run this smart, cosy, welcoming restaurant in Putney — the only one in London entirely dedicated to showcasing the refined cuisine of the Kashmir Valley, a region surrounded by the Pir Panjal and Himalayan mountain ranges in North India. After ceremoniously washing hands with a decorative vessel called tashtri, tuck into crisp, black cumin-studded lotus root kababs, aubergines tangy with tamarind, and dum aloo cooked the traditional way — in a spiced yoghurt gravy, not Punjabi-style tomato-onion that’s found everywhere else. Lamb arrives in several guises — on the bone in rogan josh, cooked in milk and deep-fried, and as two types of festive koftas in mellow yoghurt and bright-red chilli gravies. Kashmiri pulao is not the generic horror containing tinned pineapple and glace cherries like at some avoidable venues: here it’s the real thing, bursting with paneer cubes, almond slivers, and pandan flower water.      

It’s hard to believe that quiet, sleepy Maida Vale hides a pukka Punjabi dhaba — albeit a slightly trendified version complete with cocktails, unconventional lassis, and knowingly kitsch murals of decorative trucks, an old bicycle with fairy lights, and a vintage telephone with rotary dial. The vertical presentation of chaats here is fun: crisp, battered spinach leaves stand upright like soldiers in a battlefield, and samosas with thin ‘patti’ pastry are piled up on a spike. Chunky, coriander-flecked dhaba roti is perfect for scooping up highway chicken curry, fresh and dried fenugreek leaves cooked with sweetcorn, and lamb keema in a hearty onion-tomato sauce. King prawns are grilled very simply in a tandoor, but retain their natural flavour and only require a wedge of lime to neutralise their smokiness.

Atul Kochhar’s new Mayfair venue is that extremely rare thing: a Modern North East Indian restaurant; its low-key glamour allows the humble dishes given a contemporary spin to shine. There’s delicate Tibetan-influenced shapta of jackfruit with red chillies and pak choi; and sticky, steaming Sikkim-style lamb momos piled into a bamboo basket. Cumin and black pepper add oomph to a tender, slow-cooked Bengali-inspired goat curry; and there are milder but equally flavourful gems such as eggs with lentil sauce, and Mizoram-style stir-fry of bamboo shoots, green beans and mushrooms. The flavours are much more understated and the dishes lighter than in other regions of North India.   

The culinary equivalent to ballroom and bhangra dancers moving together in unison, here the looks, attitude, and functionality of a North Indian canteen is combined with the shimmering retro charms of a British chop house. The fast-casual venue near Covent Garden serves multiple purposes: suitable for a quick office lunch, solo meal, post-work dinner, or lingering Sunday lunch with a bunch of mates brave enough to take on the massive thali. Although the flavours are Punjabi, the textures are firmer, crisper, and more British in dishes such as whole tandoor-roasted cauliflower and Amritsari lamb chops. Quirky snacks like smoked cheddar and cassava kababs, and mackerel naan with tarragon cream cheese and green apples are wonderfully imaginative; and regular weekday thalis are good value for central London.

Restaurateur Rajesh Suri and chef Dayashankar Sharma’s contemporary South Woodford venue isn’t North Indian as such — its ambitious idea is to showcase cooking inspired by the Grand Trunk Road, an ancient trade route that stretched between Kabul to Kolkata, with a menu spanning North Indian to Bengali dishes. The room is tastefully decorated with antique temple carvings, terracotta figurines, jaali screens, and a shiny bar. There’s vibrancy and freshness of flavour here, whether in own-made coriander or tamarind chutneys that drape Punjabi chaats, ajwain seeds that perk up Amritsari tilapia, or baby okra that somehow manage to keep their grass-green colour and just-firm texture despite being cooked with vinegar and beetroot. There are comforting classics, too, such as slow-cooked Lucknowi lamb shanks aromatic with saffron and cardamom, bottle-gourd koftas soft as velvet pouches, and dhaba dal whose earthiness is a good foil to spicier dishes.