The Travel Critic

The challenge for a small, local restaurant is that it has to be good. That might sound obvious, but it’s the brutal truth. A big chain can chug along, slinging out plates of reheated mediocrity because there’s always another lost tourist or lazy diner willing to settle. But the independents? They live and die by reputation. They rely on repeat customers, on the kind of goodwill that comes from a place being not just good, but welcoming.

Grano, a little Italian spot on the corner of Old Market, nails it. And Old Market itself? It’s cool without trying, the kind of street where an anti-fascist march seamlessly morphs into a street party. Bristol at its best.

And Grano is Bristol at its best too. The food is—well, it’s nice. And I mean that in the best possible way. It’s unfussy, honest, and delicious. A menu that doesn’t scream for attention but just quietly gets on with being interesting and deeply satisfying. No pretension, no twee flourishes, just properly made, properly tasty Italian food.

And the service? A revelation. A genuine smile, a real welcome—not that brittle, performative friendliness you get in places where the staff have been trained to ask how your day is going while already looking at the next table. Here, it feels warm, natural, human.

This is the kind of restaurant that gives you faith in the whole endeavour of eating out. A place that cares, that gets it right, and that makes you want to come back. And in the end, that’s what matters most.