There’s a brand new Greek-Cypriot taverna in Covent Garden, London, that’s offering taramasalata, souvlaki, spanakopita, kleftiko, kaimaki ice-cream and all the rest. Yet Zylia, which is pale, humbly furnished and deliberately homespun in its styling, somehow has about it the feel of a family taverna that’s been here for about 62 years. You know the sort: up a cobbled back street, with a beleaguered 98-year-old yiayia doing the dishes, a one-eared dog on the step waiting for lamb titbits, and a toilet that’s essentially a cleaning supplies cupboard, as well as home to 200 tins of olives.
Zylia has none of those things, by the way, and its feel is more down to clever interior design mixed with a thoughtful, authentic menu. Then again, you’d expect clever things from chef Nick Molyviatis and hospitality veteran Barry Karacostas. You might link Molyviatis more with Thai food, both at Kiln, where he used to be head chef, and the tarted-up, much-hallowed second rendition of Singburi, which relocated to Shoreditch last year; Karacostas, meanwhile, has recently been working with Arcade, a growing chain of London-based food halls. This is where things get doubly interesting, because Zylia is considered part of the new Covent Garden Arcade, except that, unusually, it has its own front door, its own brick walls, its own website and its own identity. It’s definitely part of Arcade. But it isn’t. Step out of Zylia and into Arcade to spend a penny, and you may as well be walking from a sun-battered Kefalonian alleyway into a Hitchcockian hotel lobby of rich woods, lacquered finishes and oxblood leather banquettes.
This Arcade/Zylia venture is testament to the wibbly-wobbly world of modern hospitality. Ten years ago, the likes of Dalston’s Street Feast and a thousand nationwide copycat street-food concepts told us that bricks-and-mortar dining was old hat. What we wanted, they insisted, was open-plan, wooden benches, ad-hoc ordering, confused queues, no servers; apparently, we wanted a bun fight over bao with all involved clutching buzzers. Now, in 2026, not only do chic, sexy food halls such as Arcade feel more formal and glossy than, say, The Ivy, they’re even hatching separate spaces on their sidelines with brick partitions and individual personalities. For the sake of argument, let’s call these annexes “restaurants”.
