It’s an unassuming little storefront, snug and secure in a cozy corner of Hell’s Kitchen. The menu makes it easy, a mandatory 9-course tasting to take away the stress of choice.
It’s a fusion of foods, inspired by Korean cuisine, but each course if so creative conceived and so exquisitely executed with an incredible attention to detail.
The first course is Corn Soup, with a crisp fritter to offset the cream and a gochujang pico to add some punch. A taro chip of caviar adds a layer of luxury to something that’s already a standout.
The Hwe is a scallop of summer, sweetened by melon with a hit of strawberry chojang and chilled with fruity ice.
The chef’s special is optional, except it’s entirely necessary, and at a measly $24, it is a steal. Each order is an entire piece of Abalone, an unforgiving shellfish, deceptively difficult to braise. This one is so tender, its texture delineated by a diced shrimp stuffing. Then the yuzu foam makes it come alive.
Eggplant Twigim is exquisitely grilled, skewered alongside a silky rice cake. An earthy pine nut hummus adds an edge with a sparring smudge of pepper sauce that adds a sweet burn.
The Halibut is here and it is flawless. The butter poach brings out all the flavors, the sweet and savory sauce is divine, and a spoonful of caviar makes it come alive.
You can’t make fabulous fusion without a technical foundation to build upon, and the Chicken is a clear example. This beautiful breast is so juicy, as is its soy-based jus, smothered with enough white truffle to get a person fired.
A Flat Iron Steak is marinated in a subtle galbi sauce, not sweet enough to overpower, with a cover of black truffle to add a layer of luxury. The sides are mushroom purée, fried potato, pickled celery, fried summer squash, and a mustard green dip in the middle. It’s a mashup of color, flavor, and texture, meant to be mixed for a choose-your-own-adventure.
Snow Crab Bibimbap is a signature dish, and the uni and chunk of claw conceal the complexity that lies below. Creamy avocado holds the sprouts and seaweed rice together, and chunks of candied anchovy add an unexpected flavor-burst.
The Froyo is the beginning of the end, a sour yogurt atop a tangy compote, with a sesame sable crunch.
Then comes the Ice Cream proper, a simple milk sandwiching a berry stripe, sitting in a berry cream.
Chef comes out to ensure that we’re satisfied, and we’re struck by his humility and youth. He’s a down-to-earth guy whose easy manner masks his prominent position at the helm of one of NYC’s best restaurants and hottest tables.
Kochi is the kind of place I’d like to keep a secret. The competition is keen at this $145 price point, but Kochi is undoubtedly among the best. There is no comparison to classics like Blue Hill because despite the identical cost, the experiences are entirely diverse. That said, I think I prefer Kochi. The savory-sweet flavor-theme will not please every palate, but it sure was pleasurable for mine.
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