The UK's least fashionable restaurants

While most restaurants feverishly run to stand still, some travel at a more sedate pace and keep well ahead of the field

Oversized pepper mills, napkins folded like sail boats, dessert trolleys and lacy doilies… welcome to the retro world of the UK's least fashionable restaurants. And we mean that in a good way. They're not at the cutting edge gastronomically, they're not kitted out with the latest Murano glass chandeliers and handprinted wallpapers, and you're not likely to see Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton spilling out of their doors after one too many mojitos. But what they lack in headline-stealing novelty, they make up for in longevity, popularity and the unflagging devotion of generations of regulars.

All of the following, from the dinky Laughing Onion in Brighton to grand old Bibis in Leeds, have been in the same hands for at least the last quarter of a century. Over the years, some have made a few concessions to modernity, either in their design or on the menu, some have had complete overhauls and others have stayed exactly as they were way back when, as if frozen in aspic, impervious to fashion.

All, however, have maintained their success by marching to the beat of their own drum.

By sticking to their original vision and, more importantly, by listening to their customers, they've all earned the right to call themselves institutions.

Oslo Court On ground level since 1982 What is it?

‘Oslo' as its many regulars fondly call it, is the ground floor restaurant at Oslo Court, a residential mansion block in London's comfortably-off St John's Wood.

Who owns it?

Galician-born Tony Sanchez took it over in 1982 with his brother José after leaving Spain in the 70s to avoid military service. Sanchez rented it until five years ago, when he bought a 65-year lease for £1m. José now runs the kitchen, with both the brothers' wives helping out in the pastry section.

What's it like?

As camp as Christmas – in Barbieworld.

A shock (literally, for the first-time visitor) of pastel pink and salmon. The human eye can hardly take it all in – think cut-glass crystal, pink napery, chintzy swags and kidney-shaped salad dishes. Although it looks retro, the refurbishment process is ongoing; the pink and green swirly carpet, for example, is just two years old.

Longest-standing dishes?

Crab à la Rochelle (puff pastry vol-au-vent with crab and mushrooms in a creamy sauce, a hangover from before Sanchez took over); Grapefruit Grilled with Brown Sugar; Duck à l'Orange; Crêpes Suzette. The meal starts with Crudités, Melba Toast and curls of cold butter.

Longest-serving member of staff?

Neil, the Egyptian Dessert Waiter with a natty line in brocade waistcoats, is the star of the show, pre-dating even Sanchez. He's so fondly regarded, he was once named as a luxury on Desert Island Discs.

Most loyal regular?

Many live in apartments in the block above, including the enigmatic ‘Mr Rod' (everyone's formally addressed at Oslo Court) an account holder, who's been in every day for lunch for 20 years. Many are, shall we say, in the twilight of their lives. ‘Remember me in your will' is a fond term of address here. Most regulars come on Saturday lunchtimes, booking up to a year ahead. Take a look at the reservations book for a Saturday lunch and you'll see it's literally a carbon copy of the previous week.

What's changed?

"They used to come on Saturdays after going to the synagogue, now they skip the synagogue part and come straight here," chuckles New Yorker Gordon ‘Mr Dibble' Dibble, an Oslo regular. It now closes on Sundays, leaving the regulars having to slum it elsewhere. "A lot seem to go to the River Café. It's quite nice there," says Sanchez. "There's nowhere else to go on Sundays."

Secret to its success?

All the food is cooked from fresh and served in old-fashioned portions. "A customer might be a kinky bugger," says Sanchez. "But sometimes he just wants a leg-over. You have to offer him what he wants when he wants it."

"Quality and quantity," reckons Mr Dibble.

"Now, if you offer those two together… there you go." Mr Dibble also puts down Oslo's success to Sanchez's flexibility as a host. "He'll take large parties when few others will and he'll move the tables round each service, so it never looks the same from one day to the next."

Charlbert Street, London NW8 020 7722 8795

The Laughing Onion 30 years on, Jean-Jacques Jourdan's still at it What's it like?

A simple shop-front on a smart Brighton terrace, with paper table covers, carpet tiles and fairy lights. A piano and a wall full of celebrity photographs (think Tom O'Connor, Ted ‘3-2-1'

Rogers and Nookie Bear) and faded newspaper cuttings attesting to owner Jean-Jacques Jourdan's singing (and womanising) career.

Who owns it?

Variously described in his heyday as a ‘scintillating French cabaret star' and the ‘Gallic John Wayne', Paris-born Jean-Jacques Jourdan.

Now a sprightly 75, Jean-Jacques and his lavish chest wig remain in rude health.

How did he get started?

After travelling the world in showbiz (Hong Kong, Sydney, Doncaster), he settled in London.

"I used to leave meals for my bank manager,"

recalls Jourdan. "One day, he said ‘I don't want to insult you, as great as you are, but you're not doing much singing now. Why don't you do something with food?'"

What happened next?

Jean-Jacques opened the Laughing Onion on Ship Street in Brighton in 1976. He bought the freehold on his current property in Kemp Town in 1983, just as his rent hit £7,000 a year.

Does Jourdan still perform?

Mais, oui. After service, Jourdan morphs from cook to crooner. "I emerge half-pissed – actually very pissed – and start to sing. I sing all the French ‘froggies' – ‘C'est Si Bon', ‘Non Je Ne Regrette Rien'..." Only in Brighton.

Any plans to retire?

He tried this after his 75th birthday in 2006, but there was an immediate uproar, with local paper, the Brighton Argus putting Jean-Jacques'

Laughing Onion on the front page. "After that I got cold feet."

Longest-standing dishes?

Aside from Jean-Jacques? Escargots, Garlic Moules, Cassoulet, Ratatouille au Riz, Irish Coffee (three courses, £17.95).

What's changed?

"The only thing that has changed is my age,"

says Jourdan. Not strictly true – he used to open seven days a week, but post-‘retirement', it's just two Saturdays a month. "Meals have to be preordered, as I can't take too much pressure. I wouldn't take a walk-in. I don't mind carrying on as long as life is easy."

What does the future hold?

"I was offered £400,000 18 months ago. I could probably sell tomorrow for half a million," he admits. "People tell me to sell, but they don't understand. I just want to cook my little things, sing a few songs. This will be happiness forever."

80 St George's Road, Kemp Town, Brighton BN2 1EF 01273 696555