COYA Mayfair

Vibrant Dining with Exquisite Atmosphere

Dining at Coya is akin to witnessing a masterclass in duality—a rhythmic ballet of pros and cons set against a backdrop of effulgent Mayfair grandiosity. To enter the venue is to become suddenly caught amid echelons of subtle ironies: the restaurant both a hallowed Michelin-worthy hall and a bustling watering hole seemingly rivaling Mahiki when caught at its peak din. Geographically cocooned within the urban folds of high-brow Piccadilly, the establishment reaffirms, shockingly early on, that we fortunate patrons have indeed secured temporarily postal stasis. While each menu appears almost lovingly crafted—rumoured species of sea bass capable of leaping from the realm of fairytale to tongue-tantalization—a different kind of leap altogether occurs with inconsistent service and certain beverage surcharges challenging ideas about gratuity vs. royalty tax.

But let us revel in monuments of gastronomy before deconstructing peccadilloes too severely. The ceviche whispers a riddle not every palate may unearth—yet one visitors claim can be ponderous back-and-forth across ethereal borders from London to the antipodes, with whispers often where flashes expected remain dormant. Tunes cloak vivid combinations of tastes twirling as they matador around waiting platters. Celebratory gestures engulf surrounding table compatriots, pushing sumptuous wagyu Bao buns into whispered fables inside conversations bubbling beneath tributary waves of digestible delight. Each affair with vegetal presence demands inclusion upon any partaking list worth more than a cursory remark—yet still vacates spaces on tables top-heavy with precious metal upcharging vagaries, despite seasonal rhythmic cues. For while we are drawn our there once blinded rhythm, we oft find ourselves questioning claims, every bit as carnival-full as circles tread within waiting stations. That said, onward into the splendid nocturnal bulwark will adventurous courage see tomorrow! — Penelope Savory