I could feel the pain in my head as I turned in bed, blurred images in my mind of alcohol induced craziness. Distant memories of gin soaked karaoke, snapshots of strangers taunting me with jager bombs.
I always knew it would end like this.
As I lay on that bed waiting for death to take me, I began to see images of my life flash before my eyes. My first steps, my first mouthfuls of food, the first days at many different schools, my first kiss quickly followed by the first time I was dumped, the first tastes of alcohol, my first hangover, many meals, days spent watching TV, nights spent chasing girls (mostly unsuccessfully), trips abroad, more meals, meeting my wife, even more meals, getting married and too many years working in jobs that could have been done by a monkey (arguably a monkey may have done it better).
It strikes me, as the icy fingers of the grim reaper reach towards me, that I have lived a wasted life. Sure I have had fun, sure I have met my soul mate, sure I have travelled the world but it is clear to me that I haven't eaten enough good food. I have eaten some great food but I'm angry to say that those occasions have not been the norm. I have wasted my life eating mediocre meals only punctuated by the occasional joy of some exceptional cooking. How many great men have regretted this on their deathbed? Was Nelson trying to steal a taste of a lost meal when he asked Hardy to kiss him? When Churchill said he was "bored with it all" did he mean the restrictions of his menu? Am I just one more in the line who has made bad food choices?
But wait, this is not my fault. I have searched the globe and spent my waking hours looking for the perfect meal and the ultimate tastes but so often I have been let down. I have wasted time eating in establishments that aspired to being average.
This is the fault of all those average chefs who labour day and night to prepare mediocre meals. This is the fault of every chain restaurant that opens on the high street's of this nation. This is the fault of every person that has opened a restaurant without an ounce of experience. This is the fault of us, the consumer, for putting up with it and eating in silence. Ok so maybe it is my fault slightly. Maybe I should have learned to be a better chef so I didn't have to eat that average food, maybe I should have complained more, maybe I should have only eaten in places with Michelin stars or hidden bistros in the maze of parisian side streets or maybe I should have just found Koba and Korean food earlier in my life....
Tucked in an unassuming road off Charlotte street, seconds aways from the big ticket restaurants of Roka, Fino and Salt Yard, sits the quietly confident Koba. My Wife and I had ventured in to the west-end to have a meal with two of our closest friends who had not long since returned from their honeymoon in Japan. Being the gap between Christmas and New Years all the Japanese restaurants I had hoped to visit were closed. So on the back of a few good reviews and a recommendation from a friend I had booked the four of us a table at Koba. This I am ashamed to say would be my first experience of Korean food. Being such a fan of Japanese food I have always opted for a new Udon bar or Yakitori kitchen rather than trying the delights of Korea. This, I would learn, was a painful mistake.
We arrived at the restaurant slightly late for our lunch booking, thanks to the ineptitude of London Underground but shouldn't have worried as we were the only people there. This concerned me slightly but I put it down to the time of year rather than anything else. The restaurant is deceptively spacious with a galley of dark wooden tables each concealing a barbecue in their centre. Slightly more noticeable was the overhanging extractor fan and the lack of leg room due to the cover hiding the grill workings. Although this was nothing that good food wouldn't cause me to ignore.
As novices to Korean food we let our extremely helpful waitress recommend what would be the most authentic dishes to order. It was a matter of minutes before the dishes started to arrive. A mixed selection of Kimchi was the first mouthful on the journey. A mix of spiced fermented cabbage, cucumber and radish coated in chilli had just the right amount heat and was highly addictive. For me the cucumber had the best balance of flavour but I would happily eat a plate of all three. The starters consisted of Yook Hwei, seasoned raw beef with sliced pear and an egg yolk mixed in, which was excellent and strangely cleansing, Pajun, a traditional pancake made with spring onion and seafood (pictured above), which was excellent if not a little plain compared to the other starters. An excellent plate of dumplings that put most gyoza to shame and a serving of tasty glass noodles with vegetables rounded off the appetizers nicely.
Our mains came with a share of theatre as they unveiled the hidden grill and let the UFO like extractor earn its money. We had an excellent selection of meat and fish cooked in front of us, which to be fair I find a little off putting as it makes me feel like we are doing all the work. This in my wife's case was the truth as she ended up turning the meat as the waitress set another table sizzling. The highlight of the barbecue was the thin slices of cooked duck which we wrapped in a lettuce leaf with excellently seasoned shredded spring onion. My friend was quick to point out that this was a little like a bun-less burger which was strangely true and utterly delicious. The low point was the overcooked baby octopus but I wont hold this against them as everyone else seemed to enjoy it. Having obviously judged us as fat western gluttons the waitress had said we would be fine with a traditional rice dish too. With hind sight this probably was a dish too far but how will I keep my reputation as a glutton if I only eat the food I need? The spicy chicken with vegetables and rice came in a hot stone pot which then had chilli sauce and an egg yolk mixed in to it at the table. This, only served as a slight let down as for all the performance it lacked a little flavour and didn't keep its heat well.
Having pushed my expanding waistline to the limit we all agreed that deserts would be a step too far and the limited choice of ice creams with red bean sauces was slightly uninspiring. In all a great meal which was only bettered by the helpful and patient service. I would highly recommend it to anyone but especially those sick of insipid Chinese restaurants that differ from one another only by the staff that work there.
Koba provided a perfect start to the last day of my life and if only the bad influence of my partners in crime hadn't led me on debauched night of alcohol and karaoke I may still be able to set right the crimes of the past. Forget the flowers, bring kimchi to my grave....
My wife tells me that I don't deal with hangovers well.
Koba, 11 Rathbone Street, London W1
Tel: 020 7580 8825
Score 4 out of 5
Price: £45 per head (This did include champagne and wine, well we were celebrating...)
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