Padella

There is no booking system at the Borough Market branch of Padella, and there never has been. You turn up, join the queue that snakes along Southwark Street, and wait for a text or a wave from the door staff, sometimes twenty minutes, sometimes well over an hour on a Saturday. The system is a genuine source of frustration for anyone with somewhere to be, and Padella knows it, but the pasta has kept people queuing since it opened in 2016.

The kitchen is open plan and tiny, and everything on the short menu is made in house that day. Pici cacio e pepe, thick hand rolled strands in a pepper and pecorino sauce, has been there since day one and remains the dish most people order twice. Pappardelle with an eight hour beef shin ragu and crab tagliolini with chilli and lemon are the other two dishes regulars steer newcomers towards.

Portions are deliberately modest, sold in two sizes, which encourages ordering three or four dishes between two people rather than one large plate each. It is a smart way to taste more of the menu and keeps the bill surprisingly low for food of this standard, most pasta dishes still under twelve pounds.

The room itself is narrow, loud and functional rather than atmospheric, bench seating and close quarters with strangers, more refectory than restaurant. That is part of the appeal for some and a genuine drawback for anyone hoping for a leisurely, quiet meal. Service is fast because it has to be, and lingering over a second bottle of wine is not really what the space is built for.

The honest caveat is the queue itself. On a wet Tuesday it barely exists, but on a weekend afternoon it can eat up most of an hour before you have even seen a menu, and there is no way to skip it. Go at an odd time, an early weekday lunch or a late one, and you get all of the pasta with none of the standing around.