I grew up not far from High Street Kensington, which was once home to a bustling Barker’s and the gloriously oddball Kensington Market—effectively a Camden market with a slightly more glamourous location—but it was also a culinary no-mans land. For all its Georgian grandeur and cashmere-draped clientele, the area never quite got the memo that people who buy £400 jumpers also need somewhere halfway decent to eat lunch and dinner
Thankfully, someone seems to have had a long-overdue epiphany. Restaurateurs have finally grasped a rather obvious truth: even the affluent deserve local restaurants that don’t make you long for a Pret. Enter the new wave—Krokodilios, The Blue Stoops, and Zuaya the latter brought to you by Emerald Hospitality. This sudden proliferation of ambition suggests that High Street Ken has recognised the need for great neighbourhood restaurants.
Zuaya pitches itself as a culinary journey through Latin America. I went for lunch with my mother during birthday week—a woman who treats mediocrity with the scorn of a Roman emperor. If there were flaws, she’d find them before the first forkful.
The restaurant is tucked neatly off the high street, down a cobbled side street just perfect for an afternoon of eating and drinking. Inside, it’s all foliage-draped ceilings, verdant banquettes, and salsa music just loud enough to make you think you’re on holiday without forcing conversation into a shout. Tables are clothed in white, a nice but arguably unnecessary touch, however the branded handmade side plates add a touch of panache.
We start, as one should, with guacamole this is done tableside in a marble mortar. It’s an over-the-top performance, but a pleasing one. Rich, creamy, with a citrus punch that’s just the wrong side of heavy-handed, it nonetheless hits the spot. The sweet potato crisps—sugar-rush orange and addictive—stay at the table like a well-behaved child, dipping into everything and causing no trouble.
Beef empanadas come next—pulled beef in a golden, crisp pastry shell that leans more towards samosa than the usual doughy Latin American interpretation. It works. It really does. Then, a fig and goat cheese salad with baby spinach and grapes: a combo that sings with harmony. The figs were so good, Mum demolished them before I had a look in. This is both praise and grievance.
The main event is a 350g Picanha steak, carved at the table with theatrical flourish from a charcoal grill. It’s got a respectable crust, a juicy heart, and—crucially—the portion size is generous enough to appease even the hungriest carnivore. Alongside it, lemon chicken thighs, barbecued to tender perfection and lavished in a honey, soy, cream and tarragon sauce.
The cassava chips are a revelation: golden, crisp exteriors giving way to fluffy, cloud-like centres. They’re addictive. Dangerous. We’d have ordered another four portions if dignity—or a full stomach—hadn’t intervened. Broccoli turned up too, presumably for moral support. It was fine. Nobody clapped.
For drinks we opened with a glass of Cava, the grown-up’s alternative to Prosecco, followed by a Syrah that delivered all the dark, spicy notes you’d hope for. A crisp Chardonnay later on played nicely with the chicken. The wine list isn’t outrageous in ambition or pricing, which is a small miracle for the Royal Borough.
And then there’s Evelyn. Our waitress. A young woman with the poise, charm, and instinct for hospitality that you simply can’t teach. She’s the sort of front-of-house presence that elevates a good meal into a memorable one. In a difficult time to gain and retain great hospitality workers, she is a shining beacon of the business.
In the end, Zuaya is more than just a promising local restaurant—it’s a sign that High Street Ken has finally decided to join the restaurant revolution in other local parts of London. Go for the food, stay for the hospitality and take your mother if you want the unvarnished truth. Just don’t expect to get any of the figs.
Zuaya 35 Kensington High Street, London W8 5EB – Zuaya