DINING OUT: Claro

There’s something quietly self-assured about a restaurant that doesn’t need a gimmick to announce itself. No neon, no theatrics, no DJ-led promise of a “vibe”. Instead, Claro — tucked into a Grade II-listed building on Waterloo Place — relies on the far more enduring combination of warm hospitality, proper cooking, and a space that feels genuinely lived-in despite its architectural grandeur. It opened at the tail end of 2024 and very quickly secured a mention from the Michelin Guide, which makes sense once you’ve eaten there: Claro isn’t trying to be the next big thing. It already knows exactly what it is.

The dining room, designed by DLSM Studio, manages an elegant balance between its historical bones and a more contemporary, bustling energy. An open kitchen sits at the heart of it all, radiating fire, warmth and a sense of easy generosity. That word — generosity — is probably the best way to describe the entire experience. Portions aren’t shy, flavours aren’t timid, and while the service is polished, it never tips over into performance. It’s the kind of place where you settle in quickly and realise you’ll probably stay longer than you meant to.

The menu, shaped by Partner and Founding Chef Ran Shmueli and executed by Head Chef Shadi Issawy, reads like a love letter to the richer corners of the Eastern Mediterranean. There’s no strict adherence to one tradition; instead you get the feeling that the team takes what they love from across the region and applies it to impeccable seasonal British produce. The result is a line-up of dishes that feel colourful, layered, and satisfyingly flavour-led without pretending to reinvent anything.

We began with the frena bread, still warm and puffed, served with matbucha, labneh and harissa. It’s the sort of opening that tells you exactly what Claro is about: bold hits of spice, cooling dairy, deep tomato sweetness, and a bread that’s treated with enough respect to be far more than a vehicle. If a restaurant can be judged by its bread — and it often can — Claro is in good hands.

The yellowtail crudo arrived next, a dish that manages freshness without falling into the minimalist clichés of raw fish served for the sake of it. Here, the yellow cherry tomato gazpacho sorbet is the clever twist — bright, cold and almost playful — bringing the fish into sharper focus. A dish that looks delicate but lands with intent.

Shrimp falafel followed, and they’re the sort of thing you’d come back for. Crisp and neatly shaped, they arrive with fresh herb tahini and just-fermented peppers that add lift rather than heat. The flavours land in quick succession: the sweetness of the shrimp, the herbal punch, the gentle spike of acidity. It’s a small plate with remarkable rhythm.

The lamb cigar — slender, tightly wrapped and satisfyingly crisp — comes with a slick of tahini yoghurt and sumac. It feels like the grown-up version of something you’ve eaten before, only here every element has been sharpened, cleaned up, and presented with a precision that never feels fussy.

It was the Claro Lamb Platter, though, that really confirmed that this is a kitchen working with conviction. Served for two, it landed on the table as a display of glowing, slow-cooked meat, accompanied by tzatziki, matbucha, pickles and soft pita. There’s a temptation with “sharing platters” for them to be more theatrical than enjoyable, but this one is genuinely worth lingering over. The lamb is tender without sliding into mushy territory, and the accompaniments are arranged with the confidence of a team that understands balance: freshness against richness, sharpness against depth.

Claro’s cooking thrives in this space between comfort and clarity. Nothing feels overworked; nothing feels accidental. It’s Middle Eastern influence interpreted with sensitivity, rather than a box-ticking of well-known dishes.

Dessert arrived even though we insisted we were full, because the team insisted right back — proof again of that quiet generosity that seems stitched into the place. The dark chocolate mousse with tahini crumble and crème anglaise sounds heavy but is surprisingly well-judged. There’s salt, there’s sesame, there’s bitterness. It becomes something more than a chocolate dessert — almost savoury in its final notes — and leaves you wanting another spoonful despite yourself.

What sets Claro apart is not that it’s reinventing the Mediterranean playbook, but that it’s executing its version with clarity and confidence. The restaurant understands that the best food of this region is built on ingredients that are treated with respect and allowed to speak plainly. The kitchen isn’t trying to modernise tradition for the sake of novelty; it’s doing what good Mediterranean cooking has always done: showcasing excellent produce, intelligently seasoned, and served with the kind of warmth that makes a dining room feel like a natural extension of someone’s home.

The cocktail list reinforces that approach, sitting comfortably alongside the food rather than competing with it. Wines lean thoughtful and European. Weekend brunch reportedly draws a loyal crowd with a breakfast tray that borders on indulgent. Even the Sunday roast comes with a Mediterranean twist, because Claro isn’t interested in being predictable.

What’s most obvious — and most appealing — is the sense of purpose behind it all. Shmueli and Issawy’s partnership is evident in the confidence of the menu, the brightness of the flavours, and the way each plate feels connected to the next. And the space itself, with its open kitchen and relaxed ease, lets you see that teamwork in real time.

In a part of London that is not short of ambitious openings, Claro feels like something different: a restaurant that invites you in, feeds you exceptionally well, and leaves you plotting your return before you’ve even put your coat on. It’s confident without being imposing, stylish without being self-conscious, and generous in all the ways that matter.

Book a table at Claro.