Kobe Steakhouse Mayfair – Review

All Kobe is Wagyu but not all Wagyu is Kobe. ‘Wagyu’ means ‘cow’ in Japanese. Wagyu is a premium steak but Kobe is premium Wagyu. Kobe is a city in Japan’s Hyögo Prefecture, near which the premium Tajima cattle originate. Wagyu cattle are fed for between three and six hundred days after weaning. The cattle lead relaxed lives but, contrary to popular opinion, are not massaged by farmers. Some Wagyu cattle are raised in UK, US and Australia, but the Japanese Meat Grading Association remains the global standard by which beef is measured. It measures quality from 1 to 5 and the amount of usable meat derived from a cow’s carcass from A to C. It also offers a BMS (Beef Marbling Score) which ascends from 1 to 12. Yep, gone are the good old Aberdeen Angus Steakhouse days when steak lovers had to decide little more than fillet, rump or steak, rare, medium or well done.

If, like myself, you’ve spent a life unaware of much of the above, Kobe, Mayfair’s menu is a little overwhelming. Choose Chateaubriand, choose Tomahawk, choose Ribeye. Choose Chilean, choose Argentinian, choose Australian. Choose A5. Choose A5+. Choose steak with no grading. Choose a sampler of three different steaks. Choose burger. Just say ‘sod it’ and choose fish.

Thankfully our waitress bursts with energy, enthusiasm and most importantly, knowledge. Rare to unusual, she volunteers her name, Flo, and is invaluable in helping us navigate this meaty minefield. Kobe, Mayfair opened in early March and is one of the few family-run restaurants in the area. Flo worked with the family in Milton Keynes and, like many, followed it to London and takes understandable pride in her placement. Her Laurent Perrier suggestion calms our frayed nerves and the surprise amuse-bouche, Italian White Sturgeon on blini, suggests any choice she helps us with will be the right choice.

Given Kobe, Mayfair specialises in steak, the idea of ordering a double starter and main might appeal to some, but to us and our stomachs, it’s a step too far. Temptations such as Steak Tartare, Wagyu Tataki or Wagyu Bone Marrow, therefore, go by the wayside and my Prawns’ aromatic waft arrives moments before the dish itself. Grilled and red, the prawns resemble two dangling earrings laid out on my plate. Interspersed with five creme frâiche foam clouds, the consistency is soft and textured and the heads, if you like that kind of thing, are succulent and juicy. Scallops are dainty and seared. The dollop of caviar balanced on the stretch of crispy bacon (lardon) is a nice touch and the lardon pleasantly influences the scallop and the smooth cauliflower purée. Small chunks of kohlrabi are smoked additions and, rather than bringing crunch, bring an almost tapioca pearl softness.

At some point Flo returns to show us three cuts of raw and (very) marbled beef, none of which would look out of place at a Body Worlds exhibition. The Lobster, over which I’d usually drool, seems counter-intuitive, as does the Halibut, the Mushroom Risotto, the Chicken, etc. It’s gotta be steak. And it’s not gotta be from the UK or Chile or Argentina, it’s gotta be from Japan, and, Hell, let’s make it at least A5 whilst we’re at it. My Wagyu rump is served medium rare and resembles a large stone. It’s chunky and well grilled on the outside, succulent on the inside and possessed of an overriding and appealing buttery taste. It’s a long, glorious eat, my only real question is to dip or not to dip. I ordered Blue Cheese, Bérnaise, and Peppercorn sauce and tried each one. Blue Cheese is definitely overpowering, but the notion of de-purifying the Wagyu with the milder others also, ultimately, seems wrong.

To her Wagyu Sirloin, my friend added Bone Marrow sauce with chimichurri. Honouring the nose-to-tail ethos pioneered by St John’s, it’s gooey and messy and gelatinous and for a short time, hides what lies underneath. Upon casual glance, the Wagyu Sirloin might look like partially burnt toast with lighter and darker striations but it has to be the meal’s star. An acquired taste? Possibly. Defying expectation? Absolutely. Over the years, I’ve used the phrase ‘melt in your mouth,’ but this takes the concept to a new high. By the time I fork the meat into my mouth and chew, it’s already liquefied. It’s like, what!? Texture isn’t soft, it’s viscous. Rather than asking for 200g of wagyu, my friend might as well have asked for half a pint of the stuff. It’s a rare moment where mind barely believes the information sent from mouth. But, time and time again, the wagyu liquefies. It’s rich, it’s warm and more than worthy of its reputation.

For its central location on Hay Hill, the sloping thoroughfare which links New Bond Street and Dover Street to the Berkeley Square part of Mayfair, Kobe encourages a refreshingly eclectic crowd of all ages, colours and types. Families intersperse with doe-eyed dates. Children dote on cuddly toys. Dogs breeze in and out in shoulder bags and Patti Smith lookalikes sit next to Kanya West sunglasses after-dark types. A blush, copper-coloured aesthetic brings cohesivity to the space, which surprises with both up and downstairs dining, although bronze-tinted, mirrored ceilings occasionally make it more disorienting than it needs to be. Modigliani type jungle prints mix with abstract landscapes, and two seventies glass chandeliers glow from three of the tall, arched window fronts. A thumping sound system is a constant, and although house dominates, music takes diners on a global journey ranging from Ibiza to Brazil to the Middle East.

For dessert, my super dark Chocolate Fondant is viscous and warm but neither runny nor stodgy. A scoop of Pistachio ice cream and biscuit crumble work as the perfect companion for what sounds like a rich finish but is actually surprisingly light of touch and entirely irresistible. The Apple Tart Tatin, flambéed at the table with Rémy Martin and served with vanilla ice cream, is similarly pure in finish and happily light of touch. Flo and I discuss a final cocktail. I think Espresso Martini, but she convinces of the Mocha, which is a house twist on the classic. As, throughout the rest of the evening, she’s spot on. The mezcal, hazelnut liquor and creamy topping is a sublime way to end an evening, which goes one step beyond expectation and surely makes Kobe, Mayfair a crowd pleaser for the long haul.