A just-short-of-technicolor shack by the water, Goat Ledge offers local fish in baps or salad in boxes. The lettuce isn’t advertised as local, but it’s noticeably tasty. The Hastings Roll, with homemade pickle, plenty of dill, and garlic-lemon mayonnaise, is particularly good, especially alongside pencil-thin chips and a glass of Horlicks — weird but it works. Look for the winter special: a creamy and unforgettable fresh-and-smoked fish pie that’s worth taking a long walk after.

St. Clement’s, a formal-ish bistro, deserves its Michelin star. The prix-fixe menus, which change daily, don’t just centre on Hastings-caught seafood. Meat terrines and seasonal vegetables — in early December, it was pork and green peppercorn and chicory with Stilton — feature prominently too. If there’s a posset on the pudding menu, order it, as it’s something of a house specialty. Reservations, made a few days in advance and not the day of, are wise.

The Oak Bakery demands two orders per person: a sandwich to eat then and there and a loaf to take back home. Over twenty types of bread sit in baskets behind the counter, most notably “Our Amazing Sour Dough”, though the sage and onion and seeded bloomer deserve equal credit. The deli case of doughnuts and danishes also makes for great take-away items to eat on the beach, or midnight snacks. Don’t expect crunchy Parisian loaves; the dough here has a bit of bounce, ideal for bacon, eggs, or something mayonnaise-coated, like coronation chicken or tuna and sweetcorn.

Petit Fi meets the standards of warm, friendly service and something-for-everyone menu people expect from a cute, awning-ed cafe on a coastal town’s scenic busy road. It’s the rotating menu that proves the owners are the kind to be overjoyed at the sight of locally foraged mushrooms and what they could do with them. Kedgerees, kormas, and various brunchy egg dishes are scrawled on a blackboard; it’s likely there will be a filo tart that changes with the seasons — carrot, caraway and feta; Stilton, apples and walnut — while five or six cakes sit pretty on plates by the counter, nice for an in-between-reservations snack.

A Syrian family’s recipe for falafel wrapped in Lebanese paninnete bread is the perfect emblem for this Lebanese and Syrian restaurant housed in a high-ceilinged movie theatre/gallery. Liban is especially lively during weekend brunch or before a show, and there’s a homemade touch to all the food, be it the tea cakes and cookies at the counter — laced with date, rose, or tahini — or the pomegranate-strewn lentil soup, all of which plays well with the menu’s Lebanese wine. Liban is a very St. Leonard’s restaurant: arty but not pretentious, house-proud, and friendly.

Cafes and bookstores don’t seem like an unusual pairing: see the nearby Hanushka, also on George Street. But a Thai restaurant — with co-owner June using the Thai home recipes she grew up with — and bookstore hybrid is particularly rare, which is why this is the only one in Europe, possibly the world. It’s no gimmick. The tiny joint has about three tables, so making a reservation is smart, and the bookstore is only open when dinner is, so there’s no non-dining foot traffic. Chef June pairs chicken with green curry, pork with red, and beef with panang, according to what she thinks is best. Dishes like chicken stir-fried with pineapples, the presence of krachai root — a kind of ginger slightly more medicinal in taste — and the accompaniment of dried chilli, meant to be crushed over food, bring far-from-home vibes, a gap bridged by taste. This is very good Thai food.