Soho just got a whole lot louder. Tigermilk, the Paris born Latin dining phenomenon, has landed on Charing Cross Road and it is ready to party. This is not one of those quiet, moody restaurants where you whisper over a tiny plate of something beige. Tigermilk is bright, bold and here to feed you well, pour the good tequila and possibly ruin tomorrow’s plans.
The two-level space is pure theatre. Think marble floors, mirrored ceilings catching every flicker of candlelight and enough greenery to make you wonder if you wandered into a jungle with better cocktails. The bar gleams gold and glows like treasure, lined with more than 250 bottles of tequila and mezcal that wink at you from across the room. Behind it all, the open kitchen roars with smoke and spice, a little chaos you actually want to watch.
Food here is Latin at heart but refuses to play safe. The chipotle and agave marinated T-bone is the kind of steak that starts arguments about who gets the last slice. Cochinita pibil tacos are so tender and juicy they should come with a warning label for white shirts. Then there is the ceviche – dorade with strawberries, bright and surprising, a little sweet, a little sharp, very clever. Bigger plates bring the drama, especially the rocoto glazed lamb shoulder that falls apart the second a fork touches it. And the guacamole? It is smashed to order at your table, customised to your spice level and your mood.
Dessert is non-negotiable. The passionfruit tiramisu is sunshine stacked on sponge, tropical and creamy with just enough coffee to keep things interesting. But the dulce de leche cheesecake might be the real villain here – sweet, silky and gone before you realise you promised to share.
Cocktails go hard on tequila and mezcal. Start with a hibiscus margarita or a bright, grapefruit kissed house spritz and do not be surprised if one turns into three. There is also a thoughtful wine list with bottles from France and South America, but honestly, the bar wants you on margaritas. Don’t fight it.
Tigermilk is loud, generous and gloriously fun. Dinner here does not end when the plates are cleared. It ends when the last drink is gone and you are laughing too hard to check the time.
@tigermilkrestaurants
127 Charing Cross Road, London
