Have you heard about The Cocochine? It may well be that you haven’t. For in spite of high profile owner, the many millions spent on it, and the flurry of pre-launch publicity, The Cocochine is an anomaly among Mayfair restaurants. It’s the most highly anticipated new restaurant opening of the year – as the debut of gallerist Tim Jefferies, swain of many a supermodel back in the day, and former Petrus chef Larry Jayasekara – and yet, somehow, simultaneously, the most hush-hush.
Even before stepping through the door, I’d heard all about the build, how the entire street – Bruton Place in the very heart of Mayfair – had to be rewired to supply enough power to fuel the state-of-the-art kitchen. I’d heard about the private room with its gold latticework ceiling and handset mosaic; about the serving station hewn from a single 1,800kg block of Devon stone; about the waiting staff’s Savile Row suits; and, of course, I’d heard about the art on the walls – Richard Avedon, Herb Ritts, Helmut Newton – all from Jefferies’ Hamiltons Gallery, naturally. So why isn’t this vision, this magnum opus, this masterpiece, all over our social media feeds? Because, quite simply, The Cocochine is doing things differently.
This much was clear from the first press announcement, released long before The Cocochine opened its doors in March. At The Cocochine, the guest would come first. There would be no turning of tables (book a table and it’s yours not just for 90 minutes but for the night); there would be no online bookings (update: they’ve quietly joined OpenTable since then); and the menu would be à la carte. The Cocochine would also be exclusive; even though it would occupy the full four storeys of a Mayfair mews house, it would seat just 28 in the dining room, 7 at the chef’s table, and 14 in the private room (they could have almost doubled their covers had they not devoted so much space to the restaurant bathroom, certainly the most luxurious restaurant bathroom in London).
The wine cellar accommodates 1250 bottles of rare wine, among them sought after vintages of Tignanello, Vega Sicilia, Ornellaia and Petrus. Compare that with the made-for-Instagram Mayfair archetype, with the supercars outside, the plastic flowers crawling up the walls, and dry ice emanating from the cocktails, and you can see The Cocochine’s brand of luxury is, whisper it, quiet.
Restaurant Review
After glasses of Billecart-Salmon, our first course is a plate of canapés. In a standard-issue ‘tasting menu’ restaurant, each one might constitute a course in itself. Here we get five in one go. It’s almost too much to take in at once, so complex and multi-layered are the individual snacks, so detailed their description by the chef, but I recall a stunning carrot and smoked Norwegian reindeer heart tartlet, a crisp croustade of yellowfin tuna and caviar, and a perky little Comté doughnut with truffle.
“You could bring your grouchiest uncle, your trickiest client, your fussiest niece, or sulkiest teenager, and watch as their bad mood evaporates. This spoiled brat stands corrected.”
The menu doesn’t quite meet my definition of ‘à l carte’, given the price is set at £145 for three courses, but it does offer rare choice. For my friend, a whopping roasted scallop, hand-dived from financier Ian Wace’s private island Tanera Mòr in the Inner Hebrides, with pickled strawberry and elderflower sauce. My first course boasts prestigious Pertuis asparagus and Alsace bacon with a moussey, aerated bacon hollandaise. Jayasekara, a one-time tourist tout and refuse collector turned chef de cuisine, takes his sourcing seriously; he’s said to have visited 26 countries in pursuit of the very best for The Cocochine.
The dishes get only better. Dry-aged wild turbot, again from Tanera, with white asparagus, Dorset crab, with lemongrass sauce; chicken from Les Landes by legendary producer Arnaud Tauzin, with Tanera langoustine, morel, jus gras and, on the side, the cutest, most scrumptious chicken hand pie. (Since our visit, Jayasekara has introduced a £45 pie menu, and a £70 set lunch; word of his pie-making clearly having got out).
We finish with a cheese course: quince and vinegar tart, with ripe Gorgonzola and an aged Parmesan crust. Again, blissful. I’m poised to post some pictures on Instagram but think better of it. I think I’ll keep The Cocochine all to myself. It can be our little secret.
