Both directions at once at Kojin
Kojin (out of four) Address: Third floor, 190 University Ave. (at Richmond St. W.), 647-253-6227, kojin.momofuku.com Chef: Paula Navarrete Hours: Lunch, Monday to Friday, 11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. Dinner, Sunday to Wednesday, 5:30 to 10 p.m.; Thursday to Saturday, 5:30 to 11 p.m. Reservations: Yes Wheelchair access: Yes Price: Dinner for two with wine, tax and tip: $250
Is Momofuku’s Kojin an agenda-setting, buzzworthy Latin American steak house serving uniquely delicious dishes?
Or is Kojin an overpriced, overhyped restaurant lacking good service and food consistency?
Kojin is restaurant No. 15 in the global empire of New Yorkbased Momofuku. It opened June 7 to replace the Daisho and Shoto restaurants closed this February after six years, the space remodelled in the brand's no-frills style. Momofuku founder David Chang told the Star’s Karon Liu he made the change so diners won’t get bored at the building’s 10-year mark. The ground-floor Noodle Bar remains as is.
Despite being named for the Japanese god of fire, Kojin is not an Asian restaurant.
Well, not entirely. There’s more than a touch of Korea in the quirky amuse bouche of pickles. The kitchen makes them using chili-free white kimchi brine; the sour peaches and crunchy pears are partic- ularly memorable. Sometimes the kitchen will also send out a cup of chicken bone broth steeped with black tea, a warming elixir with a silky mouth feel.
Chef Paula Navarrete, 29, may have carried over these fusion touches from her five years cooking at Daisho but her Colombian roots are front and centre at Kojin, especially when it comes to the wood-grilled meats and flame-licked vegetables.
Corn flatbreads are as striking as Sofia Vergara. Think of a cross between a johnny cake and an arepa; if neither of these references ring a bell, just know the puffy discs are chewy in a good way, thanks to white hominy nubs and earthy corn meal.
With each flatbread comes a selection of dips. Burning logs of white oak and walnut take cherry tomatoes almost to the bursting point ($14), while chilies add their own heat. This dish stands head and shoulders above a bland splodge of white cheese ($13) barely enlivened by pickled garlic and crushed peanuts.
Kojin certainly gets its beef right. In-house butcher Derek Easton (ex-Sanagan’s) dry-ages the $77 steaks until high in flavour. The trimmings go into a burger ($23) memorable more for its wings of crisped gruyere than its greasy, split-batter onion rings.
Twice, the server neglects to ask how we want our steaks cooked. One time, it arrives medium-rare, another time it’s grey throughout.
“The waiters should be letting people know it will be cooked medium-rare, unless the customer requests otherwise,” Navarette later apologizes.
It’s not the only slip, even by Kojin's idiosyncratic service standards. Staff offer to check the backpacks of others but fail to extend the courtesy to me. When I ask about a particular ingredient, the server promises to return with the answer. I’m still waiting. Clearly, my disguise worked.
Kojin completely falls apart at dessert. Vanilla ice cream is ruined by sea salt. Sherry vinegar overwhelms strawberries. Blueberry cobbler ($17) is no such thing. It is a cornmeal pound cake with a few berries instead of the customary baked fruit topped with batter. And there’s nothing about the dulce de leche sweet bread ($15) a basic home cook couldn’t replicate with a jar of caramel spread and a slice of challah.
I’m not sold on the value. A plate of sliced tomatoes is $21. There's not much to them, just some olives, herbs, shallots and gritty bits of rice. What justifies the price?
“We really pride ourselves on sourcing the best. The work goes into the product, not from the cooks but at the farm. We’re not trying to rip anyone off,” Navarrete says in a phone interview en route her lettuce and sweet potato suppliers.
And yet the tomatoes are served chilled, a bad way to showcase their flavour.
At least for the $69 chicken, diners get a production. It takes 45 minutes to prepare a whole chicken, staff explain. A whitejacketed cook brings out a steaming casserole to show it to the table. Back in the kitchen, the chicken breast is sliced and placed atop crispy sushi rice, while the wings and skin are fried and the leg meat shredded into soup. It’s interactive and meant for sharing, like many of Kojin’s dishes. I don’t order it but observe a cook show off what appears to be the same chicken to different tables.
This brings us back to the original question: Is Kojin groundbreaking or heartbreaking?
Both, methinks.