I took a trip to visit my brother and his girlfriend in Elephant and Castle. He mentioned off-hand that there was a restaurant nearby that he really wanted to try – knowing my brother I should have suspected that it would shape up to be one of the great culinary excitements of my year.
When I enter Noko, I’m struck by their style. Techno music plays, loud enough for a little table-sude boogie but not quite so loud so as to drown out conversation.
The decor is modern, with the industrial aesthetic that so often appears in restaurants like this, but tempered with a huge selection of greenery. Plants line walls, the ceiling is a mess of exposed pipes and beams. This is juxtaposed with simple wooden tables and adjustable lamps, comfy chairs and hand-fired plates.
It comes off, therefore, as posh but not pretentious, modern but warm, unique but classic. Industrial classy minimalism, a really enigmatic space that makes you feel like you’re in for a fun night with good food.
And boy, it did not disappoint.
We start with the hamachi carpaccio – a dish that had to be invented for its poetic name alone. After we’re all finished annunciating ‘hamachi carpaccio’ a few times, we’re stunned into silence. This is the most tender fish I’ve ever eaten – melts in the mouth barely covers it, this butter-like flesh fresh and soft. It is served with rocket and a sour, ginger and soy dressing, enhancing the natural quality of the fish. If ever a dish is to do justice to the sacrifice it requires, this is it. I can almost taste the little guy’s personality.
They serve us a platter of six pieces of nigiri – foie gras, wagyu, and tuna. They are all beautiful, tender bites of unmitigated joy. Foie gras bursts with rich, smoky nuttiness, pure indulgence coating the roof of my mouth. The tuna melts, as does the wagyu, both presented with real wasabi and soy sauce in a teapot. I’m never buying supermarket sushi again.
At this point, you start to understand Noko’s philosophy. There aren’t huge Instagrammable moments, no fireworks in noodles or dissolving dumplings, no ostentatious theatre, just FOOD. It’s all in service of the ingredients. From the decor, to the cutlery, to the plating, to the cooking style. Everything is served with pure confidence in the chefs.
The nasu arrives, an aubergine covered in what looks like custard – and tastes quite like custard too. It’s a rich miso charred aubergine served with a sweet thick sauce, which is beyond delicious. The charred skin, soft flesh and glossy sauce combine to create this stunning little piece of perfection. I don’t know why any of this works together, and we shovel it all into our mouths before we can meaningfully dissect it.
Next is the scallop – the first dish that doesn’t spark overwhelming joy. It’s very nicely presented, served with a broth in a shell, giving it a vaguely yonic connotation. The miso soup also passes without any particular fanfare – it’s served with seaweed and boba-like tofu, and tastes sort of like Willy Wonka’s answer to seawater.
We order some desserts, cheesecake; deliciously cheesy (strange but really works), tiramisu; coffee-heavy enough to get you home, and black sesame mochi; jelly-like and almost peanut-y, all delicious and somehow still we aren’t stuffed beyond belief.
We order some sake at the end of the meal, in the interests of expanding our cultural palette. We order one each – warm, please – and as it arrives we realise our mistake. We have ordered a bottle each, not the single drink we were expecting. The waitstaff remove the lids, and take them away, the sake there for us to finish in one sitting.
It’s… unique. It sort of tastes as you would imagine hot wine to taste. Hot tonic wine, with a chesnutty thickness to it. We sit there giggling, lost in the madness of a sake haze, and so I almost don’t even flinch when the exorbitant bill arrives.
I decide, in my drunken haze, I’ll happily scoff instant noodles and tinned tuna most nights if it means I can eat like a KING every once in a while. And make no mistake… Noko is food fit for a king.
