I’ve walked past it a million times on my way to Hyde Park, but it’s purely by accident that I wind up at Koi, a sleeper hit among London’s many Japanese restaurants.
A lost reservation at an upscale Italian on Kensington High Street has my companion and me scratching our heads for a Plan B. But just around the corner, we’re reminded of Koi. We seize the chance to finally try the dimly lit, narrow, three-story restaurant.
We’re asked to remove our shoes before stepping onto a platform, and then sitting down, our feet inside a well under the table. We sit on soft cushions, and it’s far more comfortable than a traditional dining table and chairs.
The menu is vast. Over a glass of Kirin and cold sake, we spend several minutes poring over the long lists of sushi, sashimi and niguri we settle on a mixed platter. But that’s just to start. We’re overwhelmed by choice, and begin ordering for a non-existent extra four people. Dobinmushin soup arrives, a thick, muddy broth more delicious than it sounds, flavored with a large prawn, a piece of chicken, and a shitake mushroom, all found like treasures at the bottom of the sea once we’ve emptied the small clay pot of liquid.
A shallow, stone bowl arrives with one of the best dishes of the night, sautéed octopus in a pasty red chili sauce with mushroom. Unlike so many other Japanese restaurants in London, there is nothing derivative of Nobu here. There are traditional favorites, like black cod with miso, but absent are the typical “yellowtail in jalapeño sauce” rip-offs. The octopus is a dish we’ve not tried before. It’s rich and warming.
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Seared tuna tataki is perhaps a bit too seared; the overly charred taste is the giveaway, and the crab and avocado salad is heavy on the salad, but then the tempura arrives to lift our spirits.
In a classic case of “eyes bigger than stomachs,” we’re presented with plates of both jumbo prawn and soft-shell crab tempura. Piled high, the generous, golden yellow sculptures melt in our mouths as we bite into the crunchy, freshly fried batter with soft, sweet crab in the centre.
We don’t care about cholesterol, sodium levels, or fat; this is bliss. If you’re going to go for it, this is the way to do it. Despite its romantic atmosphere, we’re surrounded by tables of four, groups of friends and families and the usual international crowd that inhabits Kensington and Chelsea. Too bad none of them can help us out with all the leftovers.
Excited as I am about the crab and the octopus, I’m even more delighted to have a new neighborhood favorite.
Koi’s got style, substance, and convenience going for it, and who cares if it’s not on London’s hot table lists? If it was, I’d never get in on a Saturday night without a reservation, and in a city where restaurants are immune to the recession, that’s priceless.
