Zapote

Dive into London's Trendiest Mexican Experience

It’s one of those sunny, unremarkable afternoons when you find yourself drawn to Shoreditch, that ever-so-trendy patch of London, teeming with scruffy art students and immaculate tech gurus. Rest assured, if you're searching for a culinary adventure, Zapote, which brandishes its somber anonymity among crashing cymbals of industrial decor, is guaranteed to shift your assumptions about Mexican cuisine into overdrive. Here, you are served a symphonic sequence of small plates, each seemingly wrought from the twisted neurons of some gastronomic Da Vinci—without the benefit of an audacious clanging fairground jingle for distraction, mind you.

Float not upon a river of mediocrity but brave the rapids of multi-dimensional flavors. Look no further than the guacamole that perfunctorily skis across your palate or beef tacos that turn surprising flips through dual cooking methods. Consider the prawn ceviche—a subtle salting of sea airs astounding even the iciest introvert amongst us. I caught myself audibly clapping like a seal for the spicy margarita—a potpourri of triumphs in citrus and spirit harmoniously colliding. And while the restaurant audacity flows like free prose at a Shoreditch poetry slam, there’s one spanner tap-dancing torturously out of place—the assaultive noise levels make hearing fellow diners' witticisms rival hunting demure unicorns! Nevertheless, methinks a tasteful pastiche of modern serenity may remedy this querulous overtone (an architect with marvel at padding will fix it). In sum: this is Mexican reimagined yet amiably tethered to tradition, a bacchanalian feast rendering my own alphabetical musings towards 'return visit as soon as possible.' Bravo, Zapote, bravo! — Penelope Savory