Some places never really leave you.
They sit quietly in the background of your life, resurfacing in odd moments – a smell, a taste, a passing conversation, a feeling that something unfinished is gently tapping you on the shoulder. For me, Nepal has always been that place.
When I first opened Kilroy’s of Kathmandu in November 1998, I was in my twenties, running largely on instinct, energy, and a belief that if you looked after people properly, everything else would somehow work itself out. I wanted to create a restaurant that felt like an oasis – a place you discovered and explored with all your senses, where the noise of the city softened at the threshold and people felt a palpable sense of welcome before they’d even seen a menu. Namaste indeed! 🙏
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<p data-rte-preserve-empty="true">Great kitchens are build on judgement, generosity, and trust.</p>
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Back then, it wasn’t about concepts or trends. It was about honest food (~ from suppliers I could trust!), warm service, and creating a space where people could relax, connect, and feel quietly looked after. That simple idea turned out to be a powerful one.
We had 300 seats to fill, but within weeks we were fully booked and Kilroy’s went on to become many things to many people. A meeting place. A refuge after a trek. A destination for first dates, long lunches, late nights, and chance encounters. A place where strangers became familiar, and familiar faces felt like old friends. It also became the backdrop to my own life in ways I couldn’t possibly have predicted at the time.
It was there that I met Arati.
What began as a restaurant slowly became something much bigger than a business. It became a place where friendships formed, where lessons were learned – sometimes the hard way – and where my understanding of hospitality began to deepen beyond food and service into something more human and enduring.
Life, as it tends to do, took me in other directions.
Over the years since Kilroy’s first opened, I’ve worked in different kitchens, different organisations, and different leadership roles. I’ve led teams, made mistakes, learned to listen more than I talk (mostly), and discovered that consistency matters far more than brilliance, and that care – when practised daily – is one of the most powerful forces in hospitality. I’ve learned that great restaurants aren’t built on ego or performance, but on judgement, generosity, and trust.
Somewhere along the way, Arati and I also changed and adapted over the years.
Together, we’ve built careers, a family, and a shared understanding of what good hospitality really feels like – not just for guests, but for the people who make it happen every day. We’ve learned the value of partnership, of doing things with intention, and of creating environments where people feel respected, supported, and proud of the work they do.
So why come back now?
Because the idea that first brought me to Kathmandu still feels true. Because the sense of belonging I feel there has never really faded. And because returning now isn’t about recreating the past – it’s about continuing it with a clearer vision, fuller hearts, and a much deeper understanding of what really matters.
Kilroys of Kathmandu (~ sans apostrophe!), as I imagine it today, isn’t about trying to relive glory days. It’s about creating a new experience that feels in tune with what we know and believe today. The food will reflect a lifetime of cooking, tasting, travelling, leading, listening, and learning – dishes with personality, flavours with stories to tell, and desserts that I will still insist you leave some room for. The service, under Arati’s amazing stewardship, will be thoughtful more than theatrical. The atmosphere warm, relaxed, inviting, and yes, quietly confident - because we know what we like, and we think you’ll like it too.
Most of all, it will be built on care. Care for the people who work with us. Care for the people who walk through the door. Care for the small details that, taken together, make a culinary experience truly memorable.
This journal is where I’ll share that journey – the stories from then, the lessons learned since, and the thinking behind what we’re building in the future. It’s not a countdown to an opening date. It’s an invitation into the process.
If you were part of the Kilroy’s story back in the day, welcome back.
If you’re discovering it for the first time, I’m glad you found us…
The Kilroys are coming home.
~ Thomas 🙏