Milos London

Selection before the flame

Costas Spilliadis sets the fish before the cooking, the defining gesture of his work as Chef at Milos London in St James's, London. The display on ice is not decoration; it is the first station of the meal, where the raw material is read before the kitchen takes it. Spilliadis founded the original Estiatorio Milos in Montreal in 1979 and has kept the house language close to one idea: Greek seafood begins with selection, then restraint. London joined that lineage in 2015, carrying the same discipline into a Grade II-listed former British Columbia House at 1 Regent Street St James's, near Piccadilly Circus.

His route has stayed inside the restaurant model rather than around it. He is founder and chef of the original restaurant, founder and chef of Miami, and founder and chef of London; he also worked with the Greek seafood restaurant concept at Hudson Yards in New York City from 2018. The continuity matters because the method depends on repetition. Fish shown plainly, handled cleanly, grilled, fried, poached, or baked in salt, then brought to the table without a kitchen trying to overtake the sea.

The market as mise en place

The London room keeps the Milos fish market at the center of service. Diners choose from the ice, and that choice becomes part of the pass: whole fish for grilling, sea salt baking for loup de mer, milokopi, and rofos, raw preparations from the bar, and plates built for sharing rather than display. The house works with Mediterranean fish and also with local Cornish fish, folding London into a Hellenic seafood grammar without changing the sentence.

The menu moves through familiar stations with a tight hand. Grilled octopus comes with Santorini fava. The Milos Special stacks fried courgette and aubergine with kefalograviera and tzatziki. Greek salad stays close to vine-ripe tomatoes, feta, and olives. There are curing traditions too, including hot smoked eel and Messolonghi roe, alongside sashimi, tartare, oysters, and ceviche. The wine program is curated rather than loudly announced, with Greek bottles sitting naturally beside fish, olive oil, sea salt, and herbs.

A polished room around ice

The room is elegant without losing its working center. Vast doors give way to a dining room where the fish display pulls the eye before the table does, and the atmosphere stays busy but measured, with service moving around the counter, the pass, and the plates with practiced control. The building gives the restaurant civic weight; the ice gives it purpose.

That tension is the London address at its best: Piccadilly formality around a market ritual, polished service around a product-first kitchen. The meal does not need theatrical complication. A fish chosen from the display, cooked to order, and set down with the restraint Spilliadis has repeated since Montreal is enough of a signature for Milos London.