I Queued For Agora For 90 Minutes – Was It Worth It?

It’s no secret that Brits love a queue – but queueing for your supper is perhaps another matter. If you’re not wholly confident that a restaurant will be ‘queue-worthy’, it’s a hard ask to give up two hungry hours in a gamble for a table. Agora is one such restaurant that asks its diners to sacrifice an unknown amount of time in pursuit of a seat; yet it has built up a cult-following of London foodies who file upfront nightly for a spot. What’s driving these diners, and are they completely bonkers? Tessa Dunthorne gets in line.

What’s The Hype Behind Borough Market’s Agora?

What Is Agora And Can You Book Tables?

Agora opened in Borough Market in 2024 as the casual answer to its fine-dining sister restaurant OMA – also its upstairs neighbour, by restaurateur David Carter (Smokestak, Manteca). It styles itself as a Greek ‘souvla bar’, focusing on small plates including skewers, dips and charcoal rotisserie meats. There’s a range of wood-oven baked flatbreads – think spicy pork and pineapple-topped – and a limited dessert menu. 

The popularity of the restaurant was probably predestined, mostly thanks to the Michelin acclaim of OMA, but a @topjaw video in 2025 sealed Agora’s viral status. In the video, presenter Jesse Burgess claims the spot boasts ‘outrageous value’, which was additionally confirmed by a Bib Gourmand win a month before.

From this point, diners have been hard-pressed to secure tables. And if you’ve meandered Borough Market at mealtimes, you will definitely have seen the lengthy queues formed ahead of the restaurant. It’s only possible to book Agora at peak times with a larger group (who would struggle with extraordinary waits in the queue, otherwise), and even then these are released in fortnightly advances. 

The Report: Does Agora Live Up To Its Hype? And How Long Is Its Queue?

It is 6.15PM on a dry but grey Thursday night in March, and the queue for Agora already stretches to Leon, which sits at the very end of Bedale Street. There is a nominal gap for diners entering Berenjak, Agora’s adjacent neighbour, and they stare at us, the queuers, with sympathy. And disbelief. I’m texting my running-late-on-tube partner as a woman asks if I’m the last of the line, and – to be honest – I’m joining Padella’s digital queue concurrently: 120 minutes’ wait. It’s at this critical juncture that a member of Agora’s team trots by and hands me a cup of crisps, and, reassuringly, these are phenomenal. 

Yes, Agora’s queue is hideous. But there are drinks orders – you pay as you go, and there’s cheap, cheerful on-tap white wine that arrives in a small tumbler – and a gleeful camaraderie. Anytime the queue surges forwards, there’s basically a cheer. Also, because you’re next to a Leon, there’s free WiFi. An hour and 30 minutes later, I do get in (pipping Padella). Is it worth it? 

Flatbreads and dips. Photos by journalist

Certainly the atmosphere inside is lively from the get-go. The setup is minimalist – tables are basically bare, barring metal goblets containing cutlery and napkins – and tunes intermingle with conversational surround sound. You can see into the kitchen, which is a flurry of activity as well as spitting meats on a 2m spit, and the lighting is dim. You can see through semi-opaque windows, and it’s enjoyable to watch the progress of queue-goers (big groups don’t really move; a schadenfreudian pleasure).

Mushroom and sardine skewers. Photos by journalist

Dining itself is speedy. Yet, while Agora undoubtedly relies on turning tables quickly, it’s by no means rushed. Just efficient. The team settles you in and still takes the time to have a proper chat – and their recommendations are good – and then, upon ordering, its only minutes before the first dishes arrive. They come as they’re ready, and the first to hit the table are sesame-coated pita and flatbread (not so flat – it is a balloon), alongside crisp-topped hummus and spicy feta dips. Its a slew from here of skewers, braises, and salads; as a pescatarian I am well-optioned, but meat-eaters could also plump for sausages, lamb, chicken and more. And, despite being smaller plates, dishes are incredibly filling. Battle any urge to skip dessert: the portokalopita, a thick, sticky orange syrup cake, is possibly the menu highlight. 

Our dinner tallied up to just under £100 (including two dips, two braises, three skewers, three flatbreads, three alcoholic drinks, one shared dessert and service). Outrageous value? Fairly so, at £50 a head and an enormous Athenian feast.

The fava bean and chickpea braises. Photos by journalist

Are There Any Low Moments? 

The chickpea braise is fairly unremarkable comparative to the flavour-bomb other dishes offer, and arrives at a weird juncture in the meal where there is no more bread on the table to mop up its broth. But this is a rare breather from hits; the fava beans braise by contrast is eminently spoonable. It’s an otherwise near perfect dining experience, if one is able to stomach the queue – which I would, for another plate of portokalopita.

What C&TH Ate: 

• Hummus
• Spicy feta dip
• Tomato kalamata flatbread
• Wildfarmed flatbread
• Pita 
• 2x mushroom skewers
• Sardine za’atar skewers
• Grilled onion salad 
• Fava beans braise 
• Chickpea braise

How To Visit

Limited bookings available (dinner and weekend bookings for groups of 4+; weekday lunch bookings for 2+) via agora.london. Otherwise, arrive early and be prepared to queue for between one and two hours. 4 Bedale St, London SE1 9AL