London Restaurant Website Ratings
We've rated 9 restaurant websites in London. Average score: 53/100.
Mediocre
Websites Rated
Average Score
Neighbourhoods
Browse by Neighbourhood
Explore restaurant website ratings by neighbourhood in London.
Mayfair
2 restaurants
Avg score: 36/100 · Poor
Shoreditch
2 restaurants
Avg score: 61/100 · Good
Notting Hill
1 restaurant
Avg score: 71/100 · Good
Covent Garden
1 restaurant
Avg score: 81/100 · Excellent
Battersea
1 restaurant
Avg score: 46/100 · Mediocre
Kensington
1 restaurant
Avg score: 32/100 · Poor
Charing Cross
1 restaurant
Avg score: 49/100 · Mediocre
Best & Worst in London
Worst Rated
Tamarind of Mayfair
Indian · Mayfair · London
"Let's start with the desktop view. The photo of the dining room is lovely, but putting dark, un-backed text over a busy, multi-colored background is Web Design 101 failure. Your users shouldn't need night vision goggles to find the 'Menus' link. The popup aggressively selling the lunch menu is actually quite nice, but once you close it, you're greeted with an absolutely massive expanse of nothingness. It looks less like a high-end Mayfair dining destination and more like a developer pushed to production on a Friday at 4:59 PM and immediately went on holiday. Things go from incomplete to completely broken on mobile. The background image is an inexplicable, unrecognizable blur that looks like a camera misfired in a dark closet. Worse, there's no hamburger menu, no address, no phone number, and no way to actually see what kind of food you serve. You have a 'Reservation' button and a logo, and that's it. If you are charging £29 for a lunch menu in Mayfair, your digital presence needs to match your physical elegance. Right now, your website is literally 80% blank beige space. It feels abandoned. Fix the contrast on your desktop navigation, swap out that abysmal mobile background image, and for the love of hospitality, put your address and a menu button where people can actually see them."
Raj of Kensington
Indian · Kensington · London
"This website looks like a web developer started building it, went on their lunch break, and simply never returned. The most glaring issue is the massive, inexplicable white voids taking up prime real estate on both the desktop and mobile versions. It feels less like a design choice and more like a graveyard for widgets or images that failed to load. When combined with awkwardly floating, cropped photos of curry, the whole mid-section of the site feels entirely unfinished. Then there's the typography. The homepage features a genuinely elegant, faint mandala background—which is immediately ruined by a harsh, neon cyan 'RAJ OF KENSINGTON' header that looks like it belongs on a 2004 laser tag arena's Geocities page. It's a bizarre stylistic clash. Furthermore, whoever built this lazily kept the mobile hamburger menu for the desktop version, forcing users an extra click just to navigate a practically empty homepage. But the true crime against web standards happens in the mobile footer. Instead of stacking the 'Overview,' 'Opening Times,' and 'Our Address' columns vertically like any modern responsive site, the columns stubbornly stay side-by-side. This results in them squishing together to produce avant-garde poetry like 'Overv iew', 'Openi ng Times', and 'Our Addre ss'. You have to squint and decipher broken syllables just to figure out when they open. The food looks great, but this website needs a total rebuild."
Veeraswamy
Indian · Mayfair · London
"Veeraswamy boasts a rich 100-year history and a Michelin star, but its website feels like a digital ghost town. It looks as though the developers set up a sprawling, image-heavy layout, forgot to upload the actual images, and just called it a day. Both desktop and mobile experiences are plagued by miles of glaringly empty white space between lonely paragraphs, forcing visitors into an endless, thumb-tiring scroll just to read a Michelin quote. When the text waxes lyrical about 'foliage' and '1920s velvet,' it would be nice to actually see it. For a restaurant celebrating its centenary, finding the actual food shouldn't be a historical expedition. The primary call-to-action is a persistent pop-up for a 'Nostalgia Menu,' but if you want to see the standard offerings, you're left hunting for inline text links buried in the copy or relying on the hidden hamburger menu. The mobile site’s sticky bottom navigation is a fantastic UI touch, but omitting a direct 'Menu' button in favour of generic 'Info' is a glaring oversight for a dining establishment. To add insult to injury, essential details like the physical address, phone number, and opening hours are completely absent from the homepage footer. You shouldn't have to play hide-and-seek to figure out where a Regent Street institution is actually located. It’s an elegant brand draped in luxurious purple, but the execution is so fundamentally flawed that it undermines the prestige it promises. Fix the broken image containers, condense the layout, and put the basic information where people can actually see it."
Indian Moment
Indian · Battersea · London
"Welcome to Indian Moment, where the very first moment you experience is an aggressive, screen-hogging red pop-up demanding you read their BYOB and corkage policy. Nothing screams 'fine dining experience' quite like a 150-word legalistic lecture on responsible drinking and box wine limits before you've even seen a samosa. On mobile, this text box is so massive it gets cut off, trapping you in a scrolling nightmare just to find the green 'Continue' button so you can actually view the website. Once you escape the pop-up purgatory, you're greeted by an absolute identity crisis of a colour scheme. We've got a dark red logo slapped onto a black background (rendering it completely invisible), an orange 'Our Story' button, a hot pink newsletter sign-up, a dark teal footer, and random brushstrokes straight out of 2012. For a restaurant heavily boasting about being 'award-winning', the visual presentation feels incredibly disjointed and unpolished. And speaking of a restaurant, where exactly is the food? There is not a single photo of a dish on the entire homepage. Visitors have to actively hunt through the navigation to find a menu or rely on the sterile 'Order Online' button. They do score genuine points for proudly displaying their 5-star food hygiene rating and clearly listing their contact details in the footer, but it would be infinitely better if they also told us when they actually open. Ditch the aggressive pop-up, hire a designer to pick exactly three colours, and show us why we should want to eat here."
Bengal Tiger
Indian · Shoreditch · London
"Bengal Tiger might have an award-winning kitchen and a pristine 5-star Food Hygiene rating, but their website is suffering from a severe case of digital food poisoning. The layout is dominated by massive, inexplicable blocks of solid grey and black that force users to scroll through screens of literal nothingness. It feels less like a restaurant homepage and more like a modern art exhibition exploring the concept of the void. Then there's the typography. Someone clearly fell in love with a yellow cursive font, but they forgot to check if anyone could actually read it. Worse, the copywriter seems to have been abducted mid-sentence. You are greeted with sections grandly titled 'RESERVATION' followed by a delicate, illegible script whispering 'Make a'. Make a what? A run for it? The suspense continues down the page with 'ENJOY' followed by 'Come and'. Come and what?! The mystery is as thick as a good vindaloo. To top it all off, the navigation bar is a hoarder's dream, cramming 13 different links into the header, including three separate ways to look at food. Throw in a Mother's Day graphic that looks like it was made on Microsoft Word 2003, and you have a site that completely undermines the 'authentic, award-winning' vibe they are going for. Fix the broken spacing, finish your sentences, and ditch the cursive—your food clearly deserves a better digital storefront."
Maharaja of India
Indian · Charing Cross · London
"Welcome to the Maharaja of India, where the cuisine is fine, but the spellcheck is apparently on strike. Nothing says 'premium dining experience' quite like greeting your guests with a casual marker-pen font that looks like it escaped from a primary school bake sale, right above a glaring typo welcoming them to an 'authentic indian cousine'. It completely undermines the elegant, dark aesthetic they are trying to achieve with the background. It takes a special kind of confidence to hide your menu entirely from the homepage, forcing hungry visitors to play a guessing game or immediately commit to clicking 'Order Online' just to see if you serve a decent Tikka Masala. The food photography looks enticing enough, but referring to your dishes as 'succulant' in the gallery section just adds another entry to the typo tally. But the real mystery here isn't their secret blend of spices, it's trying to figure out where the restaurant actually is, or how to contact them. The 'Visit Us' section proudly lists a Charing Cross Road address, while the footer casually drops a completely different address on Portpool Lane. To top it all off, there is absolutely no phone number visible anywhere on the homepage. Good luck calling ahead to find out which address you are actually supposed to show up at!"
CORE by Clare Smyth
British · Notting Hill · London
"CORE by Clare Smyth clearly wants to convey a sense of pristine, world-class fine dining, but it crosses the line from 'elegant minimalism' into 'did the CSS finish loading?'. The typography is undeniably delicate and the dark green footer is beautiful, but the sheer volume of empty white space makes scrolling down the page feel like a trek across a frozen tundra. The most glaring offense is the trio of massive, empty white cards taking up a huge chunk of the layout. Are they supposed to contain images that are failing to load? If so, it's a critical error. If not, it's a completely baffling design choice to dedicate acres of screen real estate to blank white boxes with tiny 'Visit W&S' buttons at the very bottom. On mobile, your thumbs will get a full workout just swiping past this snowy void. Then there's the food photography. For a restaurant renowned for its exquisite, highly visual plates, why is the food hiding off-screen like it's camera-shy? The beautiful ingredients are bizarrely cropped to the extreme left and right margins, leaving the center of the page feeling stark and clinical. Let the food be the hero, not the white space. Thankfully, the site's utility saves it from total disaster. The footer is an absolute masterclass in providing essential information: lunch and dinner hours, the address, and clearly segregated contact details are perfectly laid out. It's a website that functions flawlessly for booking a table—provided you don't succumb to snow blindness on your way down the page."
Dishoom Shoreditch
Indian · Shoreditch · London
"Dishoom’s website looks exactly like its restaurants: incredibly aesthetic, heavily branded, and slightly overwhelming. You've absolutely nailed the vintage Irani café vibe with gorgeous typography and elegant framing. However, you've also nailed the feeling of being handed a thick novel when all you really want is a menu and a reservation link. The homepage is a sheer test of endurance. Right out of the gate, mobile users are hit with an aggressive promo modal that blocks the view. Once they swat that away, they're faced with an endless scroll of historical anecdotes, FAQs, and massive image blocks. By the time they actually find the 'Food Menu' button—because heaven forbid you actually show a dish and a price on the homepage—they might have starved to death. Credit where it's due: your 'Planning your visit' section is a masterclass in providing comprehensive information, detailing everything from nearby transport links to wheelchair accessibility. It's just a shame you decided to hide half of it behind mobile accordions. It's a gorgeous site, but it desperately needs a ruthless editor. Trim the fat, let the food take center stage, and save the history lessons for the back of the physical menu."
Dishoom Covent Garden
Indian · Covent Garden · London
"Dishoom’s website is less of a standard restaurant landing page and more of an interactive museum exhibit. It's undeniably gorgeous, with a continuous geometric line leading you on a curated journey through their lore. The typography is crisp, the branding is flawless, and the aesthetic is dialed up to eleven. But be prepared to pack some rations for the journey down the page to find actual, practical information. While the storytelling is charming, the sheer volume of content is staggering. Before you can find out what's for dinner, you are treated to poems, odes to vintage stuntwomen, and a sprawling history lesson. On mobile, this translates to an endless thumb-workout. It’s the digital equivalent of a waiter giving you a fifteen-minute dramatic monologue about the origins of cumin before finally handing over the menu. That being said, when you eventually do reach the 'Planning Your Visit' section, it is an absolute masterclass in restaurant communication. Everything from accessibility details to the nearest bus stops is meticulously laid out. It’s a premium, theatrical website that perfectly captures the highly-curated Dishoom experience—just make sure you have the time to read a short story before booking your table."
Best Rated
Dishoom Covent Garden
Indian · Covent Garden · London
"Dishoom’s website is less of a standard restaurant landing page and more of an interactive museum exhibit. It's undeniably gorgeous, with a continuous geometric line leading you on a curated journey through their lore. The typography is crisp, the branding is flawless, and the aesthetic is dialed up to eleven. But be prepared to pack some rations for the journey down the page to find actual, practical information. While the storytelling is charming, the sheer volume of content is staggering. Before you can find out what's for dinner, you are treated to poems, odes to vintage stuntwomen, and a sprawling history lesson. On mobile, this translates to an endless thumb-workout. It’s the digital equivalent of a waiter giving you a fifteen-minute dramatic monologue about the origins of cumin before finally handing over the menu. That being said, when you eventually do reach the 'Planning Your Visit' section, it is an absolute masterclass in restaurant communication. Everything from accessibility details to the nearest bus stops is meticulously laid out. It’s a premium, theatrical website that perfectly captures the highly-curated Dishoom experience—just make sure you have the time to read a short story before booking your table."
Dishoom Shoreditch
Indian · Shoreditch · London
"Dishoom’s website looks exactly like its restaurants: incredibly aesthetic, heavily branded, and slightly overwhelming. You've absolutely nailed the vintage Irani café vibe with gorgeous typography and elegant framing. However, you've also nailed the feeling of being handed a thick novel when all you really want is a menu and a reservation link. The homepage is a sheer test of endurance. Right out of the gate, mobile users are hit with an aggressive promo modal that blocks the view. Once they swat that away, they're faced with an endless scroll of historical anecdotes, FAQs, and massive image blocks. By the time they actually find the 'Food Menu' button—because heaven forbid you actually show a dish and a price on the homepage—they might have starved to death. Credit where it's due: your 'Planning your visit' section is a masterclass in providing comprehensive information, detailing everything from nearby transport links to wheelchair accessibility. It's just a shame you decided to hide half of it behind mobile accordions. It's a gorgeous site, but it desperately needs a ruthless editor. Trim the fat, let the food take center stage, and save the history lessons for the back of the physical menu."
CORE by Clare Smyth
British · Notting Hill · London
"CORE by Clare Smyth clearly wants to convey a sense of pristine, world-class fine dining, but it crosses the line from 'elegant minimalism' into 'did the CSS finish loading?'. The typography is undeniably delicate and the dark green footer is beautiful, but the sheer volume of empty white space makes scrolling down the page feel like a trek across a frozen tundra. The most glaring offense is the trio of massive, empty white cards taking up a huge chunk of the layout. Are they supposed to contain images that are failing to load? If so, it's a critical error. If not, it's a completely baffling design choice to dedicate acres of screen real estate to blank white boxes with tiny 'Visit W&S' buttons at the very bottom. On mobile, your thumbs will get a full workout just swiping past this snowy void. Then there's the food photography. For a restaurant renowned for its exquisite, highly visual plates, why is the food hiding off-screen like it's camera-shy? The beautiful ingredients are bizarrely cropped to the extreme left and right margins, leaving the center of the page feeling stark and clinical. Let the food be the hero, not the white space. Thankfully, the site's utility saves it from total disaster. The footer is an absolute masterclass in providing essential information: lunch and dinner hours, the address, and clearly segregated contact details are perfectly laid out. It's a website that functions flawlessly for booking a table—provided you don't succumb to snow blindness on your way down the page."
Maharaja of India
Indian · Charing Cross · London
"Welcome to the Maharaja of India, where the cuisine is fine, but the spellcheck is apparently on strike. Nothing says 'premium dining experience' quite like greeting your guests with a casual marker-pen font that looks like it escaped from a primary school bake sale, right above a glaring typo welcoming them to an 'authentic indian cousine'. It completely undermines the elegant, dark aesthetic they are trying to achieve with the background. It takes a special kind of confidence to hide your menu entirely from the homepage, forcing hungry visitors to play a guessing game or immediately commit to clicking 'Order Online' just to see if you serve a decent Tikka Masala. The food photography looks enticing enough, but referring to your dishes as 'succulant' in the gallery section just adds another entry to the typo tally. But the real mystery here isn't their secret blend of spices, it's trying to figure out where the restaurant actually is, or how to contact them. The 'Visit Us' section proudly lists a Charing Cross Road address, while the footer casually drops a completely different address on Portpool Lane. To top it all off, there is absolutely no phone number visible anywhere on the homepage. Good luck calling ahead to find out which address you are actually supposed to show up at!"
Bengal Tiger
Indian · Shoreditch · London
"Bengal Tiger might have an award-winning kitchen and a pristine 5-star Food Hygiene rating, but their website is suffering from a severe case of digital food poisoning. The layout is dominated by massive, inexplicable blocks of solid grey and black that force users to scroll through screens of literal nothingness. It feels less like a restaurant homepage and more like a modern art exhibition exploring the concept of the void. Then there's the typography. Someone clearly fell in love with a yellow cursive font, but they forgot to check if anyone could actually read it. Worse, the copywriter seems to have been abducted mid-sentence. You are greeted with sections grandly titled 'RESERVATION' followed by a delicate, illegible script whispering 'Make a'. Make a what? A run for it? The suspense continues down the page with 'ENJOY' followed by 'Come and'. Come and what?! The mystery is as thick as a good vindaloo. To top it all off, the navigation bar is a hoarder's dream, cramming 13 different links into the header, including three separate ways to look at food. Throw in a Mother's Day graphic that looks like it was made on Microsoft Word 2003, and you have a site that completely undermines the 'authentic, award-winning' vibe they are going for. Fix the broken spacing, finish your sentences, and ditch the cursive—your food clearly deserves a better digital storefront."
Indian Moment
Indian · Battersea · London
"Welcome to Indian Moment, where the very first moment you experience is an aggressive, screen-hogging red pop-up demanding you read their BYOB and corkage policy. Nothing screams 'fine dining experience' quite like a 150-word legalistic lecture on responsible drinking and box wine limits before you've even seen a samosa. On mobile, this text box is so massive it gets cut off, trapping you in a scrolling nightmare just to find the green 'Continue' button so you can actually view the website. Once you escape the pop-up purgatory, you're greeted by an absolute identity crisis of a colour scheme. We've got a dark red logo slapped onto a black background (rendering it completely invisible), an orange 'Our Story' button, a hot pink newsletter sign-up, a dark teal footer, and random brushstrokes straight out of 2012. For a restaurant heavily boasting about being 'award-winning', the visual presentation feels incredibly disjointed and unpolished. And speaking of a restaurant, where exactly is the food? There is not a single photo of a dish on the entire homepage. Visitors have to actively hunt through the navigation to find a menu or rely on the sterile 'Order Online' button. They do score genuine points for proudly displaying their 5-star food hygiene rating and clearly listing their contact details in the footer, but it would be infinitely better if they also told us when they actually open. Ditch the aggressive pop-up, hire a designer to pick exactly three colours, and show us why we should want to eat here."
Veeraswamy
Indian · Mayfair · London
"Veeraswamy boasts a rich 100-year history and a Michelin star, but its website feels like a digital ghost town. It looks as though the developers set up a sprawling, image-heavy layout, forgot to upload the actual images, and just called it a day. Both desktop and mobile experiences are plagued by miles of glaringly empty white space between lonely paragraphs, forcing visitors into an endless, thumb-tiring scroll just to read a Michelin quote. When the text waxes lyrical about 'foliage' and '1920s velvet,' it would be nice to actually see it. For a restaurant celebrating its centenary, finding the actual food shouldn't be a historical expedition. The primary call-to-action is a persistent pop-up for a 'Nostalgia Menu,' but if you want to see the standard offerings, you're left hunting for inline text links buried in the copy or relying on the hidden hamburger menu. The mobile site’s sticky bottom navigation is a fantastic UI touch, but omitting a direct 'Menu' button in favour of generic 'Info' is a glaring oversight for a dining establishment. To add insult to injury, essential details like the physical address, phone number, and opening hours are completely absent from the homepage footer. You shouldn't have to play hide-and-seek to figure out where a Regent Street institution is actually located. It’s an elegant brand draped in luxurious purple, but the execution is so fundamentally flawed that it undermines the prestige it promises. Fix the broken image containers, condense the layout, and put the basic information where people can actually see it."
Raj of Kensington
Indian · Kensington · London
"This website looks like a web developer started building it, went on their lunch break, and simply never returned. The most glaring issue is the massive, inexplicable white voids taking up prime real estate on both the desktop and mobile versions. It feels less like a design choice and more like a graveyard for widgets or images that failed to load. When combined with awkwardly floating, cropped photos of curry, the whole mid-section of the site feels entirely unfinished. Then there's the typography. The homepage features a genuinely elegant, faint mandala background—which is immediately ruined by a harsh, neon cyan 'RAJ OF KENSINGTON' header that looks like it belongs on a 2004 laser tag arena's Geocities page. It's a bizarre stylistic clash. Furthermore, whoever built this lazily kept the mobile hamburger menu for the desktop version, forcing users an extra click just to navigate a practically empty homepage. But the true crime against web standards happens in the mobile footer. Instead of stacking the 'Overview,' 'Opening Times,' and 'Our Address' columns vertically like any modern responsive site, the columns stubbornly stay side-by-side. This results in them squishing together to produce avant-garde poetry like 'Overv iew', 'Openi ng Times', and 'Our Addre ss'. You have to squint and decipher broken syllables just to figure out when they open. The food looks great, but this website needs a total rebuild."
Tamarind of Mayfair
Indian · Mayfair · London
"Let's start with the desktop view. The photo of the dining room is lovely, but putting dark, un-backed text over a busy, multi-colored background is Web Design 101 failure. Your users shouldn't need night vision goggles to find the 'Menus' link. The popup aggressively selling the lunch menu is actually quite nice, but once you close it, you're greeted with an absolutely massive expanse of nothingness. It looks less like a high-end Mayfair dining destination and more like a developer pushed to production on a Friday at 4:59 PM and immediately went on holiday. Things go from incomplete to completely broken on mobile. The background image is an inexplicable, unrecognizable blur that looks like a camera misfired in a dark closet. Worse, there's no hamburger menu, no address, no phone number, and no way to actually see what kind of food you serve. You have a 'Reservation' button and a logo, and that's it. If you are charging £29 for a lunch menu in Mayfair, your digital presence needs to match your physical elegance. Right now, your website is literally 80% blank beige space. It feels abandoned. Fix the contrast on your desktop navigation, swap out that abysmal mobile background image, and for the love of hospitality, put your address and a menu button where people can actually see them."
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