For the Indigenous peoples of Latin America, corn was more than food, it was sacred. In the Mayan Popol Vuh, the gods tried to create humans from clay and wood, but only succeeded when they used corn, making it the sacred foundation of humanity. Today, corn remains a staple across Latin America and ranks as the second most produced crop in the world.

Sopa Azteca or tortilla soup has its origins in the state of Tlaxcala, Mexico. Tlaxcala means ‘Land of corn’. When the Spanish introduced the concept of soup to the Americas in the 16th century, the locals started adding their ingredients to them. This soup is mainly made of tomatoes (originally from the Andes, but domesticated in Mexico and given its name from the Náhuatl word Tomatl) and corn, spiced with chipotle chillies (smoked and dry ripe jalapeños). We use four varieties of corn for this dish: white corn (large kernels that are round, soft, almost floury in texture), yellow corn (It has hard, starchy kernels with very little sugar), sweetcorn (the most common in UK, with a thin, delicate skin and watery, sugary interior) and blue corn, high in antioxidants.

Chilean pastel de choclo is especially popular during the Fiestas Patrias, which take place in September. The dish, as we enjoy it today, is a perfect example of indigenous cuisine influenced by Spanish colonisation. The Mapuche, an indigenous group in Chile, prepared a dish called pinu—a stew made of chopped meat, onion, and chilli. After the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors, this preparation evolved with the addition of olives, sultanas, and boiled eggs. The topping, a type of corn mash, was widely popular across the region, from Peru to Argentina. This vegetarian version is a mix of buckwheat, lentils and pak choi.

Tiradito is a Peruvian dish similar to ceviche and a clear expression of Nikkei tradition, where Japanese techniques meet Peruvian ingredients, like a marriage between sashimi and ceviche.

In this vegetarian version, heritage beetroot is lightly cured and roasted with miso, then sliced thin and served with avocado and shredded palm hearts dressed with spring onion, coriander and chilli.

This version celebrates the start of tomato and beetroot season, using heritage varieties at their peak from early May through the summer. The tomatoes and samphire add brightness and texture, while the tomato leche de tigre ties everything together with a clean, vibrant finish.

In almost every Latin household, the kitchen has a secret hierarchy, and it’s governed by pegao, the golden, crispy layer of rice left at the bottom of the pot. It is the ultimate chef’s privilege, fiercely guarded and rarely shared. Tonight, we’re saving you the family drama: everyone gets their own.

Our crispy rice cuboid is scented with cumin, inspired by the rich, comforting aromas of a Colombian lechona Tolimense, and fried until it shatters on the fork. It meets its match in the chickpea and asparagus slice, complemented by a deeply savoury mushroom and chipotle jus that intensifies its smoky character.

We’ve grounded these bold Latin flavors with a nod to British high summer, pairing the dish with a vivid green pea and Peruvian black mint (huacatay) puree, sweet roasted courgettes, and pickled courgette slices for a cheeky, refreshing zing.

A dome of passionfruit sorbet sits beneath a shell of dark chocolate, topped with a yellow butterfly. The chocolate nods to cacao, once considered sacred in Mesoamerican cultures and linked to Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom and renewal. The butterfly references Cien Años de Soledad by Gabriel García Márquez, where it symbolises love and memory.

The dome rests on a soil of crystallised chocolate. Crack the shell to release the passionfruit, bringing a fresh, tropical lift that clears the richness of the menu so far and prepares for the final course.

Tres leches is a Latin American icon, traditionally a delicate sponge infused with a trinity of milks. Since the British sun is famous for its disappearing acts, I have reimagined this classic by channelling the spirit of summer and those long afternoons enjoying drinks at the beach.

Think of this as a piña colada you can eat. We have taken that light sponge and infused it with coconut milk and pineapple juice, piling on roasted pineapple, toasted coconut, and a boozy coconut and rum cream. Finished with crisp meringue and the obligatory maraschino cherry, it is a cheeky, tropical finale that brings the holiday vibes straight to your seat. It is basically a beach party in a bowl, no sunscreen required.

For the Indigenous peoples of Latin America, corn was more than food, it was sacred. In the Mayan Popol Vuh, the gods tried to create humans from clay and wood, but only succeeded when they used corn, making it the sacred foundation of humanity. Today, corn remains a staple across Latin America and ranks as the second most produced crop in the world.

Sopa Azteca or tortilla soup has its origins in the state of Tlaxcala, Mexico. Tlaxcala means ‘Land of corn’. When the Spanish introduced the concept of soup to the Americas in the 16th century, the locals started adding their ingredients to them. This soup is mainly made of tomatoes (originally from the Andes, but domesticated in Mexico and given its name from the Náhuatl word Tomatl) and corn, spiced with chipotle chillies (smoked and dry ripe jalapeños). We use four varieties of corn for this dish: white corn (large kernels that are round, soft, almost floury in texture), yellow corn (It has hard, starchy kernels with very little sugar), sweetcorn (the most common in UK, with a thin, delicate skin and watery, sugary interior) and blue corn, high in antioxidants.

Chilean pastel de choclo is especially popular during the Fiestas Patrias, which take place in September. The dish, as we enjoy it today, is a perfect example of indigenous cuisine influenced by Spanish colonisation. The Mapuche, an indigenous group in Chile, prepared a dish called pinu—a stew made of chopped meat, onion, and chilli. After the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors, this preparation evolved with the addition of olives, sultanas, and boiled eggs. The topping, a type of corn mash, was widely popular across the region, from Peru to Argentina. This vegetarian version is a mix of buckwheat, lentils and pak choi.

Tiradito is a Peruvian dish similar to ceviche and a clear expression of Nikkei tradition, where Japanese techniques meet Peruvian ingredients, like a marriage between sashimi and ceviche.

In this vegetarian version, heritage beetroot is lightly cured and roasted with miso, then sliced thin and served with avocado and shredded palm hearts dressed with spring onion, coriander and chilli.

This version celebrates the start of tomato and beetroot season, using heritage varieties at their peak from early May through the summer. The tomatoes and samphire add brightness and texture, while the tomato leche de tigre ties everything together with a clean, vibrant finish.

In almost every Latin household, the kitchen has a secret hierarchy, and it’s governed by pegao, the golden, crispy layer of rice left at the bottom of the pot. It is the ultimate chef’s privilege, fiercely guarded and rarely shared. Tonight, we’re saving you the family drama: everyone gets their own.

Our crispy rice cuboid is scented with cumin, inspired by the rich, comforting aromas of a Colombian lechona Tolimense, and fried until it shatters on the fork. It meets its match in the chickpea and asparagus slice, complemented by a deeply savoury mushroom and chipotle jus that intensifies its smoky character.

We’ve grounded these bold Latin flavors with a nod to British high summer, pairing the dish with a vivid green pea and Peruvian black mint (huacatay) puree, sweet roasted courgettes, and pickled courgette slices for a cheeky, refreshing zing.

A dome of passionfruit sorbet sits beneath a shell of dark chocolate, topped with a yellow butterfly. The chocolate nods to cacao, once considered sacred in Mesoamerican cultures and linked to Quetzalcoatl, the god of wisdom and renewal. The butterfly references Cien Años de Soledad by Gabriel García Márquez, where it symbolises love and memory.

The dome rests on a soil of crystallised chocolate. Crack the shell to release the passionfruit, bringing a fresh, tropical lift that clears the richness of the menu so far and prepares for the final course.

This tart is inspired by piña colada flavours, with a crisp pastry filled with smooth coconut crème pâtissière and topped with roasted pineapple and a touch of rum.

It is a cheeky, tropical finale that brings the holiday vibes straight to your seat. The flavours of a beach party in a bowl, no sunscreen required.