Last Updated on October 26, 2025
Bold Latin American flavours with a French kick
3.5 out of 5.0 starsTigermilk, with its vibrant South American menu and cocktails, has clawed its way into Parisians’ hearts, spawning multiple branches across France and in Brussels. Having missed the opportunity to visit when I was in Paris, I took a French “copine” to sample Tigermilk’s UK debut in Charing Cross Road.
The casually chic branches of Tigermilk dotted across Paris are owned by founders Nina and Alexis Melikov. These grabbed my attention because, aside from restaurants like Gloria and Jacuzzi, part of the Big Mamma group, and the child-friendly Buffalo Grill, France doesn’t have many restaurant chains. With voluminous pot plants and natural light illuminating milky painted walls and warm wooden furniture, Paris’s Tigermilk looked like a cool destination for cocktails, its menu mixing crowd-pleasing tacos and guacamole with more challenging ceviche.
Tigermilk’s namesake ingredient, leche de tigre, is a citrus-based marinade and sauce used to cure fish in ceviche, Peru’s national dish. Migrant French chefs catering to Peru’s elite after independence in 1821 had a strong influence on Peru’s tastes and culinary techniques, as imported ingredients like butter and cream influenced local cooking. Over time, leche de tigre became a refined sauce by emulsifying fats from the fish juices and acid from lime juice into a silky texture, much like beurre blanc or vinaigrette. It’s not dairy, but when concentrated, it can look like thin mayonnaise. Leche de tigre is much celebrated in Peru and a foundation of Tigermilk’s menu – although, as I was to discover, the pudding is heavily egged indeed.
Tigermilk UK’s interior is immediately more lavish and hyper-stimulating than the clean-cut Parisian branches. Floors laid with cream and liver-red marble, packed gallery walls of floral still-life paintings, gilt framed, hung upon printed wallpaper. The ceilings sparkle with amber mirrors and creeping greenery (possibly artificial); the stairs are disguised with tall cacti. Tigermilk’s Instagram-chasing, busy decor gives old French chateau interior vibes cut with the glamour of a St Tropez nightclub and a Kew Gardens greenhouse. To think this was previously Superdrug!
Sat on gold velvet chairs, we cin-cin’ed our mocktails with irony; Tigermilk is more where you drag your indecisive coven of Whatsapp gal pals for giggly evenings of sequined cocktail chasing alongside a high-octane glossy dinner. A sober Tuesday lunchtime, Tigermilk was still atmospheric with the 130-seater venue around half full. For daytime, my alcohol-free margarita had a complex enough flavour to linger over and a generously salted rim. Pina Virginia (rather than Colada) felt equally celebratory and interesting enough not to miss booziness. Although I was already secretly plotting to come back and get hammered on yuzu-flavoured Tiger-Spritz and Oaxacan Negronis on a more rambunctious occasion.
The guacamole appetiser arrived with our starter courses. I read that Tigermilk theatrically prepares guacamole at the table with ingredients and heat tweaked to your taste. Ours came without ceremony: a tennis-ball-sized dome in a stemmed silver dish, accompanied by tortilla chips. It looked less photogenic than other dishes, though I’m sure it was the orange light and the spices sprinkled on it. If you were merry on pisco sours, you’d inhale away with the bowls of crispy golden tortilla.
Dishes arrive in a piled-up intensity with lashings of lime, salt and coriander. Whilst the flavour definitely punches you in the mouth, the textures were uniformly soft without bite. Nor was anything especially spicy. Platefuls of shininess ready for their iPhone close-ups, the trouble was that each dish belted out the same tune on repeat.
Salmon Tiradito had glistening slivers of pink fish swimming in an overwhelming puddle of “creamy, spicy aji Amarillo leche de tigre”. It mirrored the mayonnaise served with the sweet potato, only with a thinner consistency.
Sweet & Creamy Tacos had a mushy filling and were laden with more lime- and chipotle-laden mayo that felt very similar to the leche de tigre elsewhere. We were starting to regret some of our menu choices; perhaps we ought to have ordered the Spanish rice rather than sweet potatoes, as everything we’d picked felt pillowy soft and squidgy.
My main, Pollo Asado had pre-cut slices of juicy tender chicken breast alongside greens (chopped rocket in a dressing?) and sour pickles. A virtuous choice here, you could have it with rice but not bother with starters. We were told people order soft tacos to roll the pieces of chicken up.
Frustratingly, the other main, Amarillo Ceviche, as recommended by one server ended up being our least liked dish of the meal. Pollock in zesty ají Amarillo leche de tigre, avocado cream, pico de gallo, pomegranate and coriander. It looked pretty enough arranged on the dish but the squares of pollock had squelchy texture and the constant lime flavour in the leche de tigre sauce now palled. Curiously the other server sympathised that this dish was not one of her favourites and whilst she cleared the table, it got left behind the longest for us to stare at. When eventually taken away, the neighbouring table (and these are intimately near) had one of its own delivered so I had to carry on looking at it. To justify how little I’d liked the pollock ceviche, I’d attempted another piece and immediately wished I hadn’t. I’m not stranger to cured fish I’d not order pollock again and would limit leche de tigre to one menu dish only. Tigermilk’s namesake may be the star but it sings louder than every other flavour.
Desserts ended things on a higher note. My silky “Mousschacho” chocolate mousse was admittedly yet more mush and fleur de sel salt but sweet enough with caramelised hazelnuts to temper the lime that had flushed out my palate. My friend’s Dulce di Latte Ice Cream, handmade from Fior di Latte at an ice cream parlour in London was topped with salted peanuts. You need one of these rather than the passionfruit or yuzu desserts to counteract the sourness elsewhere on the menu if not the salt.
Tigermilk’s sparky liquid, leche de tigre, is said to put a spring in your step; whilst I found our menu choices that day lacked variety, I’d be curious to go back and sample others with real cocktails. The prices are decent value, the vibe is unpretentious and welcoming. Perhaps it’s like a hangover swearing you off drinking again because whilst I felt totally limed out on the day, writing this a few days later, and re-reading the menu I’m inventing a reason to return and see it through blurry glasses rather than the cold light of day. Armed with experience, I’d vere towards smoky mole or barbecued red meat sharing dishes which may offer fieriness with less sourness. Tigermilk is somewhere to flex your Tiger Feet, you should go in a big group of bubbly buddies to soak in the atmosphere, just watch out for that lime bite. And give your tastebuds a badly needed rest with plain pasta tomorrow.
Tigermilk
127 Charing Cross Road
London
WC2H 0EW
(Star rating – 3.5)
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