DB Eats: Coya

Arjun Waney’s restaurant empire is fast expanding. With six Zuma sites around the world, including London, Istanbul and Hong Kong, and rotisserie restaurant Oblix about to open in The Shard, Waney has also found the time to jump on the charging Peruvian bandwagon, along with Lima London and Ceviche, with Coya in Piccadilly, a cavernous temple to tiraditos and anticuchos.

Brightening up the desolate end of Piccadilly near Hyde Park Corner, Coya boasts a shabby chic, chandelier-filled members bar on the first floor manned by the cool, dark and handsome Cedric Martinez, who I last encountered working his charms at Eighty-Six in Fulham.

Downstairs in the basement, the 100-seater restaurant is cleverly partitioned to give the illusion of intimacy. Mustard velvet chairs and mint green shutters bring warmth to the dove grey stone walls, one of which is framed by a giant purple door that appears like a gateway to some ancient Incan kingdom.

Coya gives good buzz – from the upbeat but uncheesy Latin soundtrack to the animated banter of its glamourous clientele, it’s an ideal date venue: attractive, unusual, flatteringly lit and throbbing with life. A mixture of sumptuous fabrics and industrial touches, the décor both sooths and keeps you on your guard.

The ancient and modern happily coexist at Coya, with primitive animal artworks and amphorae juxtaposed by a modern bar mixing killer pisco sours in all colours of the rainbow, including a perfectly balanced, rhubarb-hued raspberry version.

The disarmingly drinkable pisco sour is deservedly enjoying its long-awaited moment in the sun in London, and is fast being discovered by the capital’s top mixologists. Long may the trend continue; it’s time the mojito was knocked off its sugary perch.

Head chef Sanjay Dwivedi, formerly of Indian restaurant Zaika in Kensington, hasn’t made it easy for us – the menu, housed in a brown leather book of Biblical proportions, is intimidating in its absence of cohesion.

Scallops and aji limo

Rather than dishes being grouped into categories loosely resembling starters and mains, instead you’re greeted with page upon page of flavour combinations that sound so enticing, it’s tempting to order every last one.

Coya’s clever approach is dangerous for those, like me, of a naturally greedy disposition. I figured that between two, opting for one thing from each of the sections would give us an accurate snapshot of Coya’s capabilities.

Thus, we began with a dish from the “para picar” (to pick at) section in the form of lithe crispy prawns served with a piquant aji limo dipping sauce. Encased in feather-light batter, the juicy, piping-hot prawns were enlivened by the coral-coloured hot sauce. Next up came moreish chicken wings slathered in spiced salt and tamarind glaze.

Chicken wings with tamarind glaze

Skin glistening and slightly charred from the Josper grill, the tender and moist meat was given a welcome tang from the richly flavoured tamarind.

Less successful were subdued squares of crab and gold potato topped with red peppers, all three elements being of too similar texture and temperature, leaving little in the way of contrast, heat or excitement.

Raw scallops meanwhile, were cut into paper-thin, pearl white slithers, luminous and shimmering in the light, swimming in a bright orange aji limo sea dotted with sprigs of coriander.

Pretty as a picture, the silky scallops glided over the tongue and were brought to life by their fiery chili bath.

The apogee of the feast was a simple sea bream ceviche, the fish cut into lime-drenched cubes and floating in a tiger’s milk broth with amarillo chili, crispy corn and coriander. Being Peru’s national dish, Coya owes it to the land of the llama to get its ceviche right.

The composition was beautifully balanced, from the fiery chili and onions, to the cooling lime and coriander, mellow, meaty bream and textured corn kernels, it was like showering under a lime juice waterfall while munching a mouthful of chili.

Asparagus

A side of crunchy courgettes and cooling mint was refreshingly familiar amid the flavour madness exploding around us, while a bowl of asparagus and spring onions in a chili, rice vinegar and garlic bath was flamed-licked, bold and addictive, leaving me scraping the bottom of the bowl for the sunshine yellow dregs.

Stuffed as a pillow by this point, we were strongly advised to partake in the spicy beef fillet. Never one to turn down a challenge, it proved one of the finest pieces of beef I’ve ever encountered.

Topped with a crown of fried onions and red and green shards of chili echoing the colours of the Portuguese flag, the medium-rare fillet had been marinated in star anise, giving the meat a haunting aniseed trace, subtle enough not to overpower it, yet present enough to make an impact.

The beef was impossibly tender, its rich, succulent chunks melting in the mouth and bearing the hallmark of the smoky Josper. Crying out for a robust red, Coya’s enthusiastic and approachable Swedish head sommelier Maria Wallen suggested L’Espressio del Priorat 2011, the second wine of prestigious, seven-hectare Priorat estate Mas La Mola.

Spicy beef fillet

A blend of old vine Garnacha and Cariñena, the wine is made by young Spaniard Jordi Masdeu and head wine buyer for Zuma International Alessandro Marchesan, resulting in a dense drop filled with black and red fruit.

Smooth and luscious on the palate, with hints of herbs and spices, it put in an Oscar worthy performance as a supporting act to the exquisite fillet.

While a fresh mint tea and petits fours would have been the sensible way to round off proceedings, I was curious to try the quirky sounding corn sundae and sweet corn ice cream. Topped with an unwelcome swoosh of spray cream, the savoury ice cream was sweetened by chunks of caramel popcorn in an interesting rather than a delicious dessert – corn is best kept on its cob.

While Coya has much to recommend it, service is patchy, running the gamut from friendly and welcoming to frosty and pushy. With a minimum of six dishes between two needed to fill you up, prices soon escalate, requiring a level of service some of the staff at Coya fail to reach.

If it’s variety and atmosphere you’re after, Coya has it by the lime and chili-laced bucketload, but this temple to tiraditos needs to work on its service to do Dwivedi’s fantastic food justice.

Coya, 118 Piccadilly, London W1J 7NW; Tel: +44 (0)20 7042 7118. A meal for two with wine costs around £140.