The Cocochine – Review

Close to car-free, the mews-lined Bruton Place has to be one of London’s best kept secrets. A Berkeley Square artery, it exudes history, class, elegance and, given its largely residential hub, offers a surprising amount of utility. A pub, a barista, what looks like a soon to be art gallery, a Georgian snack bar and a few restaurants co-mingle with cool detachment from each other. 

Half way down on the right from the Berkeley Square end, The Cocochine Restaurant opened in March 2024 and is the first solo venture from Larry Jayasekara, former head chef at Gordon Ramsay’s Pétrus. Adapted from a four storey townhouse, a finessed preciseness, a flair for the intimate, an abundance of black and white contemporary photography define the restaurant’s hermetic and friendly atmosphere. An eclectic soundtrack which rages through the decades from Sam Cooke to Lou Reed to Hall & Oates to MGMT adds familiarity and a nice antidote to the run of the mill dance music which washes over many a contemporary restaurant.

Every day is taster day at The Cocochine and the taste begins with snacks and nibbles; spicy Devilish cashew nuts and sublime rosemary popcorn, both washed down by Billecart-Salmon Le Réserve. Served in impossibly thin stemmed glasses and with an arching, theatrical flourish by Emanuele, our chatty and passionate sommelier for the evening, this is, indeed, a devilish beginning but which is immediately surpassed by three canapés. Doughnuts as starters seem to be au courant these days and its easy to see why with the king-sized, marble-sized doughnut covered in shavings of damp truffle as if it’s just flown in from France. The potato chutney with tamarind in fine pastry looks like a beguiling jewellery plaything and the bite size of cheese and crispy onion topped with caviar bursts with dedication and confidence. 

We seem to have temporarily lost Emanuele but thankfully, Danny’s on hand and splits the duties for the rest of the evening. Equally enthusiastic and charming, he offers an Emilio Moro Polvorete from Spain, a youthful, light white which works well with the official start of our tasting menu. The Otoro Tuna covered with Oscietra caviar looks like a small portion, especially dwarfed by large plate but is surprisingly filling and seems to go on, happily, forever. The tuna is lightly diced in sweet soy sauce and sliced croutons add occasional crunch to the sublime and marbled chunks of fish. Rolls of warm brioche which unravel like Danish cinnamon rolls and crunchy sourdough rolls are also served with salted and truffle butter. Covered by an apple jelly, decorated with green petals which might be coriander leaves, The Ceylon King Crab salad is sublime and if the crab is so delicate as to be sometimes overpowered by the jelly, it tastes of Asia and comes with a jus decorated with green parsley tincture drops.

The Banana Leaf BBQ Native Lobster is chunky and meaty and served in another 12” sized plate with white spiral designs that practically hypnotise as the lobster delights. A tamarind and tomato sauce and grated lime zest provide slight sourness to the lobster’s sweeter glaze and there’s some cardamon and ginger somewhere and a dollop of crème fraîche hidden beneath pretty yellow flowers and green leaves. Apparently this is one of the chef’s favourites and one he used to make in beach fire pits for his friends after a long day’s surfing. One imagines that Larry Jayasekara didn’t lack for friends as he grew up.   

Emanuele is back with a choice of knives. Our steak must be nearby. The knives look like they’re hiding in a tailor made cigar box. There are eight to chose from, all with the same blades and striated handles but different darker colours. My friend and I opt for similar shades of midnight blue. Danny’s back with new wine, this time from Austria, one of the few the locals allow to leave the country.  Zweigelt, Kracher uses old oak to allow the fresh fruit flavours to shine and keep the tannins soft, has an amazing structure and good length. Our Rowler Farm Sirloin Beef is dry-aged for forty days and served in deep plates which looks like inverted UFOs. Hollandaise sauce, chanterelle mushrooms, green peppercorn jus all add to the flavoursome chunk of gorgeously rare and tender steak which is sprinkled with coarse salt. Overall it reminds of Autumn and the countryside, Sunday afternoons with family at home/or the pub. We feel it should be raining outside but sambal, a chilli based Sri Lankan condiment, surprises and we forget about seasonal weather. 

Emanuele takes us on a quick tour of the rest of the building which also surprises and impresses. The kitchen is based on the next floor up and if you’re interested you can sit at a bar, essentially a chef’s table, watch the magic as it happens and gain more insight from Jayasekara as he talks you through each dish in detail. Next flight up is what looks like, with large glass window, an old artist’s studio. With long table, sofas, bar and space for 16 guests, this is a secret which shouldn’t be so well kept, is a perfect place to hold intimate parties or gatherings. It also has a fully functioning fireplace for extra winter frisson. The basement is where Emanuele feels most at home, dedicated, as it is, to an earthy smelling, cool temperatured wine cellar which hosts over 1000 bottles including immediately noticeable imperials of Pétrus.

We have a palate cleansing, off menu mango mousse which is prepared at the table with chilli flakes, salt and Finger lime which neither my friend nor I had ever heard of. Finger limes are quite the thing. They originate from Australia and are nick-named the ‘citrus caviar’ for their egg-shaped, caviar-sized fruit. My friend loudly proclaims that he wants to grow finger limes in his garden. These counteract the mangos sweetness for one bouche that offered us no end of amusement.

Danny offers us a final dessert wine, also from Kracher, this time an Auslese Zweigelt. The fresher side of sweet wine, the sugar wafts fragrantly and its colour charms like a darker rosé. For the majority of diners, ourselves included, the dessert title, Wattalapam, presumably Sri Lankan, gives nothing away. Even when delivered, in another large, dramatic plate, it’s impossible to divine what it is, impossible, frankly, to even guess. Gold leaf sparkles on a quenelle of, one presumes, some sorbet which sits on a lattice of something surrounded by a sauce. We eat it and a subtle, delicate mixture of caramel is infused with bursts of saltiness and fishiness. It sounds strange, is another big surprise but works superbly. It’s actually a Sri Lankan Créme Caramel with Golden Oscietra caviar. My friend can hardly believe it. I can hardly believe it. He’s sure it’s his favourite dish after his last favourite dish. Amongst a selection of often exceptional dishes, it’s hard to argue.