The Cocochine

27 Bruton Pl

London W1J 6NQ

BY NEAL MARTIN | JULY 19, 2024

The Food:

Amuse-bouche: miniature Coronation chicken, salmon and pea tartlet, Comte filled doughnut with truffle, malt tart of deer heart with shredded carrot

Tanera Island hand-dived XXL scallop, Alsace bacon, kombu in a roast chicken jus

Slow-roasted lamb with onion, peas and lamb jus

Gâteaux Nantais with Alfonso mango sorbet, jackfruit with exotic garnish, crème Anglaise

Petit fours

The Wines:

I never published one of my best meals in 2023. That’s because it took place in a private test kitchen for chef Larry Jayasekera, who was then trialing dishes for a brand-new restaurant, The Cocochine. At that point, the erstwhile photographic studio was hidden by scaffolding, the building gutted, and the entire roof reconstructed. Even the electricity mains had to be upgraded. Stepping over tentacles of cables, I enquired when he planned to open.

“November,” Jayasekera replied, sangfroid.

“No chance,” I thought. So, it turned out. All building work is preordained to drag on beyond builders’ hand-on-heart promises, and it was not until March that The Cocochine opened its doors.

Would the food match the startling quality that I found in the test kitchen?

Would it be commensurate to the lavish décor, the multi-million refit?

I gave it a few weeks and then booked a table at the end of May.

Malt tart of deer heart with shredded carrot

Located in the heart of Mayfair, as you would expect, The Cocochine exudes luxury from the moment a smart chap in a bowler hat smiles and opens the door. We enter the ground floor, mainly dark hues, flashes of red and subdued lighting. It is not ostentatious, but the décor telegraphs the message that a lot of money was spent. Backer Tim Jeffries, one of the world’s leading photographic and art dealers and not short of a few pounds, clearly wanted to make a splash on the West London restaurant scene. The Cocochine is squarely aimed at gourmands expecting fine cuisine in salubrious surroundings, walls adorned with monochrome photographs from his collection. It is (thankfully) the opposite of nearby Sexy Fish, which seems to relish garish exhibitionism, and some people like that. Here, the luxury is visible but more discrete. Pop to the loo, and you can easily step over the ornate mosaic floor that could belong in Jeffries’ art gallery. Maybe it did?

There are just 28 covers, mainly situated on the ground floor. The second floor is dedicated to the kitchen, where no expense was spared in meeting the chef’s specifications. The crown jewel is the roof-top private room with its own dedicated kitchen, fireplace (useful on this inclement May evening) and large skylight windows that flood it with natural light, a rare commodity in Mayfair. Last autumn, when The Financial Times reported the fortune it would cost to hire, despite the economic doom and gloom, the restaurant was inundated with requests. Alas, it would have blown Vinous’ budget, and so we settled for a ground-floor table. In retrospect, I would have chosen one of the counterchairs overlooking the kitchen. That is partly because I found it a bit nippy on the ground floor and noticed a more comfortable temperature when I walked to the rear. Also, despite the exacting detail of the restaurant, I was surprised to find that my table wobbled, something I’d expect in a local corner café but not here.

Salmon and pea tartlet

The Cocochine offers a three-course menu. Many restaurants at this level now opt for set menus, so it was a refreshing change to pick and choose.

First came four amuses bouche, including a miniature Coronation chicken, a salmon and pea tartlet, a Comte-filled doughnut with truffle, and a malt tart of shredded carrot, pickled red onion and deer heart. The chicken needed a little more seasoning, but the pop-it-in-your-mouth salmon and pear tartlet was spot on. The truffle was the most seductive, and the deer heart tart had a pleasant edginess, though perhaps the pickled red onion just dominated too much…maybe less pickling?

Tanera Island hand-dived XXL scallop, Alsace bacon, kombu in a roast chicken jus

I chose dishes that come from their own estate. The hand-dived XXL scallop had been fished off Tanera Island just the day before, and our waiter presented a book with images from this part of west Scotland. The scallop had a stunning texture and just the right meatiness, topped with diced chives. Alsace bacon, Japanese kombu and roast chicken jus enhanced it. The dish might not be revolutionary, but the combination was perfect.

We were served a delicious homemade brioche seasoned with caramelized onion and thyme, glazed with brown butter. It’s the best I have eaten since The Devonshire Arms, and the two knobs of butter were surplus to requirements. The only downside is I scoffed mine before the main course was delivered and rued being unable to mop up the juice later on.

Slow-roasted lamb with onion, peas and lamb jus

The slow-roasted lamb cutlet comes from the restaurant’s own Rowler Estate. Like the scallop, I cannot fault it. It was perfectly cooked, packed with flavor and lightly seasoned with just the right amount of fat around the rim. The cutlet was accompanied by a small “nest” of caramelized onions and peas, the waiter pouring on the lamb jus. One side of the plate was dappled with tiny citrus baubles that lifted the dish.

For desserts, I deliberated between the Cocochine chocolate and Oscietra caviar and the Gateaux Nantais. I opted for the latter. I guess that’s the only downside of à la carte…you can choose the wrong thing and then, as I did, look on enviously at the spectacular chocolate dessert. There was nothing wrong with my Gateaux Nantais; the crème anglaise poured at the table. However, it was certainly small for a dessert, and being unfamiliar with Jackfruit, I now realize that it does not belong in the premier league of fruit. At the end of the day, that’s a fifty-pound dessert, and it left me wanting more…or that chocolate.

To finish, petit fours, the pick of the bunch, two tiny madeleines tucked up in napkin bed that are delicious.

Gâteaux Nantais with Alfonso mango sorbet, jackfruit with exotic garnish, crème Anglaise

As for the wines, I ordered from the list as I heard there was a fine selection. The list comes in a thick, leather-bound book and is dominated by Bordeaux and Burgundy, which inevitably limits those trying to avoid a four-figure bill. I’m not suggesting that such wines cannot be included. Rather, it’s the flip side of my tirade about the selection at The Four Horsemen that focused exclusively on natural/biodynamic wines at the expense of the classics.

Isn’t there room for both?

If you’re a millionaire who wants to splurge – go for it. But if you’re a wine-lover with a broad interest in regions around the world, then this is perhaps the true litmus test of a sommelier’s knowledge. Anyone can list DRC, First Growths etc. If you can spend money on a mosaic floor, maybe ferret away a few choice bottles of vino from South Africa, Oregon or Greece, to name but three off my head. The sommelier mentioned that they have negotiated direct allocations from notable producers. Indeed, a full page is dedicated to Domaine Leflaive, although the wines are not especially cheap.

As it was, I chose a glass of 2016 Chablis Butteaux 1er Cru from Jean-Marc Brocard to start. This is beginning to show secondary aromas on the nose, algae and crustacea, quite a hardcore Chablis bouquet that could not come from any other wine region. Maybe there is a little rusticity on the palate, but I appreciate the density and weight with a bitter lemon note on the finish that gets that saliva flowing. I chose one of the least expensive reds on the list, even though the 2016 Beaumont came in at £60 per bottle. But what I got is a fine example of a great vintage, one where you don’t need to travel to the top of the hierarchy to find delicious wine. Lavished with black fruit, tobacco and a light tang of seaweed on the nose, this has youthful zest but equal class and composure. That translates onto the palate: a quintessential Haut-Médoc that’s just beginning to drink well, pliant tannins with a caressing, quite pure blackberry and cedar finish. No complaints here.

There are many aspects of The Cocochine that I enjoyed, not least the quality of ingredients and execution. Perhaps the menu plays it safer than I was anticipating. Maybe that was because of my own choices - an observation rather than a criticism. There was something comforting about the dishes encountered at the test kitchen, and this translated onto the menu in terms of failsafe combinations, but that precluded a knockout dish where I wanted to jump up onto my chair and praise the epicurean gods above. I won’t find a better scallop or lamb this year. Service was excellent throughout, though again, a small quibble in that we were waiting around for someone to fetch our coats.

At £145 per person, La Cocochine is not inexpensive. That’s half the price you will pay at similar restaurants like The Ledbury or Core. Nevertheless, even though I chose the least expensive wine on the menu, the bill soon racked up. Mere bagatelle for Mayfair habitués but not for most; then again, location alone means that La Cocochine is aimed at pocketed gourmands. There is nothing wrong with that. Mayfair is the priciest on the Monopoly board, so what else would you expect? I just think the menu could be furnished with in-between dishes to showcase Larry Jayasekera’s flair or even his Sri Lankan heritage. His life story, from growing up in poverty to heading up a Michelin-starred restaurant, is an amazing journey. La Cocochine has everything in terms of looks, but there is room to take it up a couple of notches in terms of ambition on the menu.

In the aforementioned FT article, the opening sentence was that the restaurant “promises to rewrite the rules on restaurants in Mayfair.”

Go on, then. I’d love to see it.

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