You get the sense that Margaret’s wants to look after you. The restaurant is named after a regular – a long-time guest of its older sibling next door, Restaurant 22 – which says something about the kind of place this is: personal, thoughtful, quietly confident.
Restaurant 22, of course, is one of Cambridge’s most prestigious addresses, sitting alongside Midsummer House in the local fine dining hierarchy, complete with its Michelin star. With Margaret’s being the younger, more relaxed offshoot, expectations are naturally high.
Cambridge isn’t exactly a food destination – not yet, anyway – but Margaret’s makes a convincing case for venturing north of the city centre, beyond the buzz of Mill Road’s independents, for something more grown-up. It’s a bistro, technically, though that term doesn’t quite do justice to the experience. This is more like being invited to a particularly elegant, slightly formal dinner party – one that costs £65 on weekdays and £75 at the weekend, and where the hosts are serious about seasonal cooking.
The menu is tight and set: four courses, with a choice of fish, meat or veg for the main, and a final decision between sweet or savoury. Picky eaters should probably stay home. For the rest of us – especially those who hate trying to make small talk while weighing up three kinds of pasta – it’s a welcome relief. Margaret’s puts fresh produce ahead of variety, changing the menu often depending on what their suppliers bring through the door. When we visited, they’d only been open five days and were already tweaking dishes. It’s the kind of flexibility that makes you want to become a regular – as Margaret herself clearly has (she’d already been in twice, according to our waitress).
The space, like the menu, is understated but carefully composed. Cream walls, brown leather chairs, bare marble tables, a whisper of floral perfume in the air. There’s an open kitchen at the back and candlelight flickering at each table. It’s intimate, not precious – the kind of place where you can turn your head and see what the chef’s up to, while still sinking into your seat with a glass of wine.
We began with olives, and not just any: plump, glossy, meaty green beauties, easily the best I’ve had. A promising start, followed by soft focaccia with broad bean pesto and hummus – all very good – but it was the sweet, pickled pepper paste pooled in our olive oil that made me quietly emotional.
Even the wine felt thoughtful. A Sauvignon Blanc with a surprising tropical note added depth to the usually dry classic – a small but telling detail.
Lamb with cumin might not be radical, but I’ve only ever had it in stir-fry form. Here, the combination arrived more artfully: juicy, blushing lamb over a pool of orange-flecked cream, finished with streaks of balsamic. It’s a bold, confident plate – the kind that tells you the chef knows exactly what they’re doing.
There’s a sense of balance to the food. It feels light without being stingy, and healthy without preaching. The radishes were improbably long, the butter on the new potatoes smelled gloriously excessive, and a tempura monkfish cheek dipped in lemon, ginger and seaweed was the sort of thing you wish would never end. I could have eaten a dozen. I shouldn’t have.
Yes, portions are small, but there are enough of them, and served on deep-set little plates that keep you happily fed. The whole experience is paced to make you stop thinking – just sit back and let the glow of the candlelight and the hum of the kitchen lull you into submission. I even checked that my larger dining partner was satisfied. He was.
The night ended, as all good meals should, with excellent dessert and even better dessert wine. Lancashire bomb cheese with caramelised onions on malt loaf was so rich and sweet it flirted with pudding territory. Its partner, a 10-year Sandeman Tawny Port, sealed the deal. Meanwhile, a spiced treacle tart with Chateau Villefranche Sauternes had that rare mix of depth and lightness – fresh, fruity, and just a little bit festive.
It’s easy to see why Margaret keeps coming back – I suspect I will too.
