On one side of the street, an advertising agency: well-fed, well-paid people heading out for lunch. On the other, a queue stretching down the pavement – a couple of hundred people waiting for a meal at a soup kitchen. For Michael Brown, the contrast became impossible to ignore. “We’d be off to go and get a seven-quid sandwich from Pret,” he recalls. “And we passed the soup kitchen daily… one day I just said, ‘What are we doing?!’”

That moment – that small, uncomfortable realisation – set in motion what would eventually become 130 Primrose, a glamorous new restaurant in north London built on a simple but ambitious idea: that employment, not charity alone, can be a route out of homelessness.

The premise is straightforward. Recruit people with lived experience of homelessness, train them, pay them, give them qualifications and help them move into long-term jobs in hospitality. A restaurant that functions both as a workplace and a bridge – somewhere people can rebuild not just skills, but confidence, routine and independence.

But as with most simple ideas, the reality has been more complex – and more revealing.

Brown, who previously ran an advertising agency, became involved with homelessness charities more than a decade ago, when he started volunteering at the very soup kitchen he used to walk past. What began as a practical offer of help – lending staff to fill volunteer gaps – quickly became something more sustained. He went on to become a trustee, working closely with the team and helping to shape initiatives that would later inform the model behind 130 Primrose.

“It’s a real perspective flip,” he says. “You get to know people on the streets and see their backstory… It’s not just the image that gets conjured up when someone mentions the word homeless. It can happen to anyone.”

Over time, that understanding evolved into a broader ambition. If the issues these people were facing weren’t simply a lack of support, but a lack of access – to jobs, to structure, to opportunity – then perhaps hospitality, an industry perpetually short of staff, could offer the solution.

“At the time when we launched this,” Brown says, “there were half a million jobs in UK pubs and restaurants that went unfilled… and at the other end you’ve got hundreds of thousands of people who would kill for that opportunity.” The result was Home Kitchen, the restaurant that preceded 130 Primrose – a first attempt at putting that theory into practice.

The initial model was ambitious: 16 people recruited from the homeless community, many of them entering their first job. Training, qualifications, wages and tips – all wrapped into a functioning restaurant environment. “It wasn’t a walk in the park by any means,” Brown says candidly. “When we got busy, it tended to fall down.”

The idea itself held, but running a restaurant is demanding at the best of times; layering in training, support and varying levels of experience added a further complexity. Recruitment is handled externally through charity partners such as Beam and Crisis, with each trainee referred via local authorities and supported by a case worker, while training and qualifications are delivered through external providers. “In theory, we thought we could get all 16 a job,” he continues. “As it transpired, we got five of them a job. It’s progress, but we knew we could do better.”

That first year has shaped what 130 Primrose is now: not a complete reinvention, but a refinement. A version of the same idea, built with a clearer sense of what’s needed to make it sustainable. Part of that rethink has come in the form of Monica Galetti, who has joined as executive chef and trustee. Known for her work at some of the UK’s most exacting kitchens, she brings a clarity of purpose that cuts through any lingering romanticism about what this kind of project entails.

When I meet her, she emerges from the basement kitchen still in her chef whites, having been working with head chef Eric Zhang. Much of her focus now is on ensuring he feels confident running the kitchen independently, building a structure that can hold without her being there day to day.

“It has to run as a great restaurant,” she says simply. “It just happens to be doing it for a great cause.”

That principle shapes everything, from the menu to the pace of service. There’s no attempt to overcomplicate things; if anything, the opposite.

“It’s very seasonal at the moment, very Mediterranean-based – aubergines, artichokes, tomatoes, bruschettas, anchovies,” she explains. “Simple, but delicious. It’s a neighbourhood restaurant… You want to be able to drop in, have a couple of plates, on the go.” She hopes to eventually incorporate elements of her Samoan heritage, but for now, the simplicity is intentional. With trainees at the start of their careers, the focus is on building confidence and consistency first.

“Why build something that they can’t adhere to or manage?” she says. “Let’s do something that they can deliver.”

That approach extends beyond the menu. Training here isn’t just about cooking – it’s about adapting to the rhythm and expectations of a working kitchen, something that can be as much a mental shift as a practical one. Galetti says. “They have a six- to eight-week training period first… and also, can you imagine that training and having them prepared? It’s a lot mentally – arriving on time, having to be answerable to someone.”

At the time when we launched this, there were half a million jobs in UK pubs and restaurants that went unfilled… and at the other end you’ve got hundreds of thousands of people who would kill for that opportunity

Michael Brown, co-founder and trustee

At its core, the restaurant is balancing two priorities: delivering a quality dining experience for customers and creating an environment where people can learn and grow. It’s a balance that requires patience, investment and a willingness to build gradually. For Ade, a father of three and one of the first cohort to come through Home Kitchen, that opportunity has been transformative.

“I was homeless, Igot referred… and I went for the interview. Then I got the job”, he says, adding how he had to wait a year for his role to begin.

Before starting, he spent time in training, learning the basics of kitchen work. When he eventually joined, the impact was immediate. “When I came to Home Kitchen, finally I had a new life,” he says. “I met with different people who had been through the same stress and process… we didn’t just work as a team, we were like a family.”

His role in the kitchen evolved naturally – from kitchen porter (KP) to taking on additional responsibilities, from stock rotation to maintenance, finding where his strengths lay.

“One of our coaches figured out what we were good at,” he explains. “I like to tidy up a lot… so I was doing KP, a bit of DIY, helping wherever I could.”

The changes weren’t dramatic or instant, but they were steady – the kind that come from routine, structure and being part of something.

“The stress has not completely gone away,” he says. “You have to deal with it… but everything became very easy for me.” Now, he has stability – something that once felt out of reach. “I have a roof over my head now.”

When Home Kitchen closed for its relaunch, Ade moved into a full-time role at the soup kitchen, part of the same wider network as 130 Primrose, continuing the cycle that first brought him into the programme. The work there brings him back into close contact with people in situations he knows all too well. “I know what it is to be homeless,” he says. “I know what it is to not have a good sleep.”

At first, the transition was challenging – supporting people in vulnerable situations requires resilience, particularly when you’ve experienced similar struggles yourself. “It was a bit strange when I started,” he says. “You have to deal with people who are vulnerable… people coming to swear at you, not because they want to be rude but because mentally they are not stable.”

I know what it is to be homeless. I know what it is to not have a good sleep … When I came to Home Kitchen, finally I had a new life

Ade, kitchen porter

Brown notes that around 80 per cent of people experiencing homelessness have a mental health issue, many of them undiagnosed – something that led the team to fundraise for and establish a mental health drop-in centre.

But over time, that experience for Ade has become something else entirely – a way of giving back.

“I got help from people I don’t even know,” he says. “So you have to care for people as well… I should be able to manage people the way I was managed.” Now, he’s part of the support system for others. “They say to me, ‘you’re a lifesaver,’” he says. “When I walk in in the morning, I see smiles on their faces… that gives me gratification.”

That kind of progression is central to the model at 130 Primrose. The aim is not to create a permanent workforce, but to act as a stepping stone – a place where people gain the skills and confidence to move on.

“It’s a feeder for talent,” Brown says. “They come here, they have a period of employment… and then we help them move on to other jobs.”

In that sense, success looks slightly different from a typical restaurant. Staff are not expected to stay indefinitely; in fact, their departure is part of the goal.

For Galetti, that idea is fundamental.

“If they move on to bigger, better things, you’ve done something,” she says. “You’ve done a little bit for someone else… and it makes room for someone else to take their place.”

It’s a model built on movement – on the idea that opportunity should be passed on, again and again.

Back in the kitchen, preparations are ongoing. The menu is being refined, the team trained, the final details brought together ahead of reopening. For Galetti, the focus remains firmly on the fundamentals: good food, a welcoming space, and a team that feels supported enough to perform.

“You want people to come in and just feel welcome,” she says. “Great value, great food, good company, good service.”

The mission may be significant, but the experience, for diners at least, should feel effortless.

Behind the scenes, though, the work is anything but simple, but it clearly, has the potential to change lives – not in abstract terms, but in practical, everyday ways.

For Ade, that change is already tangible.

“I want to see how much I can be able to give back,” he says. “To Michael, to Alex… all of them that really came up for me when I was really down.”

At 130 Primrose, the idea is that there will always be someone next in line – someone else ready for that same chance.

130 Primrose is now open. For more information, visit 130primrose.org