Value for money and unassuming decor – no wonder Jeremy Corbyn is a fan of Gaby's Deli

Like the company they keep, you can tell a lot about a person by the restaurants they choose to go to. Famously, of course, the Blair/Brown “pact” was sealed at a table in Islington’s Granita – at the time, the hardest-edged, most glittering of the new wave of London’s restaurants, thrilling the borough’s Georgian house-owning chattering classes with lentils and chickpeas and chargrilled meat. The sort of place that spawned a million internet commenters squawking “champagne socialism” – Granita welcomed every customer with a glass of fizz – it couldn’t have shrieked New Labour louder if it tried.

Old, old Labour hung out in Soho, within the liverish, tobacco-stained walls of the Gay Hussar, a gentlemen’s club masquerading as a restaurant, where intense chaps of the Hattersley and Foot ilk slurped fuchsia-coloured cherry soup, and Blair’s image nudged up to that of Karl Marx.

And now we hear that our new Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn, chooses to patronise Gaby’s Deli on the Charing Cross Road. When I heard this, I was a bit surprised – in my experience, Gaby’s Deli is the haunt of tourists, unadventurous theatregoers and the less pecunious luvvie, able to live all day on a good, cheap carb-loading. But not senior Westminster players.

The glass counter groans with brightly coloured salad – an almost Ottolenghi rainbow of colours; there are kebabs and wraps, chopped liver and a random kleftiko. Flavours are Mediterranean meets non-kosher Jewish: the salt beef sandwich might not be up there with Katz’s (of When Harry Met Sally fame), but the pink, tender beef is layered thickly, perfect on a bagel rather than the sometimes dry rye bread. Their falafels are legendary: huge, crisp and fluffy, with plenty of spice. Piled on to silky, oil-slicked hummus and served with flatbread, they’ll see you through the stormiest of political seas.

The last time I went, admittedly in the late-afternoon doldrums, I was the only woman in the place. Gaby’s will appeal to anyone in search of value for money in a joint with a sense of history. It’s not too concerned with anything as shallow as decor or design, nor are the staff bothered with trying to be your best pal. It’s even attached to a cause: it was saved from redevelopment by a rousing chorus of regulars and celebrities. Hey, maybe Corbyn’s attachment to the place isn’t so surprising after all.