Cocoro's sushi and sashimi selection changes according to what's very best on the day. Photo/Sylvie Whinray
Push the boat out and consume a small school of fish at this incredible Japanese fine-dining restaurant, writes critic Kim Knight.
A listicle is a piece of writing presented in the manner its etymology suggests - as a list.
You may be familiar with the form. You may, over the years, have written one yourself. A grocery list. A wishlist. A list of things to do or things you've done. A neat and orderly collection of words that, by its very being, diminishes the grandness or gravitas of the undertakings it describes.
My dinner at Cocoro could be reduced to such a list.
Whitebait. Crayfish. Scampi. Prawn. Crab. Trevally. Snapper. Salmon. Oyster. Octopus. Flounder. Hāpuku. John Dory. Tuna. A different type of prawn. Flying fish roe. Pāua. Warehou. Kina. Salmon roe. Eel. Mackerel. Kingfish. Scallop. Another different type of prawn.
At Cocoro I ate at least 25 different types of kaimoana. I say "at least" because I got confused by the multiplicity of prawns and at one point I was instructed to douse a chawanmushi with dashi, which is a broth that nearly always contains bonito, which is (of course and also) a fish.
It was my birthday. In lieu of new wine glasses or a book or a voucher for a pedicure, I was going to consume a school of fish. When we pulled up outside Cocoro, there was a cat on the footpath, lolling in the early evening sun. Cats love fish. I took this as an excellent omen.
Omotenashi, Cocoro's signature sushi and sashimi set menu, costs $220 a head before drinks. James enjoyed another $95 worth of matched sake and wines and I had sparkling water which is what I wish I'd had more of the night prior when I found myself in an underground bunker singing Billy Joel's The Piano Man. (Blessed is the karaoke joint that will not let you book the room for a third hour).
There is no natural segue from karaoke to Cocoro, so let's pretend that previous paragraph never happened. (And then let's all pretend I didn't spend more on dinner for two with drinks than a flight to pretty much anywhere that doesn't require a nasal swab. You can, I should mention, do a far cheaper tapas-style meal - or an even more expensive degustation that includes wagyu beef).
Cocoro is a Japanese restaurant that sits quietly on Brown St, a medium-sized room with a large, long wooden table down the centre and more conventional tables down either side. The latter are too close together for my comfort. In these non-travelling times, Cocoro is a treat that transports you and I wanted full immersion with no neighbourly interference. I especially, sincerely, didn't want to hear the man beside me muse as to whether this was his eighth or ninth visit. We should all be this lucky.
Begin a deep pescetarian dive with whitebait. In provincial New Zealand, where I cut my eating teeth, you slap a patty packed with these little fishes in between two slices of squishy white bread. If you're very flash, you add lemon. I tried and failed to imagine my father's face should he ever be presented a tiny plate of individually tempura-fried bait. So delicate, so delicious, so completely affirming of Dad's belief that Auckland is another country. (Witness our third course, served in a three-tiered lacquered wood cupboard.)
Cocoro is home to Auckland's most coveted sashimi platter. It's a cliche, but not a stretch, to say this is a work of art. A sumptuous still life of surprise and delight. Raw crayfish was a singular revelation - so clean and almost crackly in texture. Contrast it with the sticky, gummy prawn and then consider the scampi as a segue between the two. Honestly, I've never concentrated so hard on a single bite in my entire life.
I thought I had a broad raw seafood education. Mussels off the rocks as a kid; fresh-caught and thinly sliced kahawai as an adult; salmon via sushi every other lunchtime. But I'd never had raw flounder (a little mealy) and I've certainly never had the opportunity to compare and contrast so many different species.
I typed "sashimi" into paperspast, National Library's digital archive, curious as to how Japanese cuisine may have once been perceived. In 1912, the Rodney Times defined sashimi as a filet of raw fish, served with condiments:
"This dish, though highly recommended by both Japanese and European medical authorities, is pronounced queer and uncivilised by those not born to the custom of eating it," the newspaper reported. "When these critics are reminded, however, of their eating live oysters with gusto, it occurs to them that the one is at least more artistic in appearance than the other, though both may be equally palatable and nutritious."
At Cocoro it's the visuals that make you gasp but the textures that turn you into a swooning wreck of a human desperately searching for higher-powered adjectives. There are three kinds of soy sauce, another green gutsy sauce solely for the raw pāua, the wasabi is fresh and New Zealand-grown. Dry ice for theatre, pickled vegetables for respite and every bite-sized piece of fish is your new favourite until you get to the tuna which literally makes your tongue dizzy. It's all kind of intimidating and then the Japanese waitperson confesses she doesn't like wasabi and you all burst out laughing. Pitch-perfect service.
That lacquer cupboard was an Alice in Wonderland moment. It opens to reveal the pāua chawanmushi (a savoury, steamed custard), a single scallop bathed in miso-infused bechamel with baby corn and a kunafa-style pastry-wrapped prawn.
A main course of silver warehou arrived and the vegetable component was chargrilled bamboo. Meaty and mealy and just another example of the sensory roller coaster Cocoro will take you on. Wince at the bitter kina on the nigiri platter; marvel at the little brush that allows for the hands-on anointment of soy and wonder if someone is pulling your leg when one dessert course is, essentially, a single, chocolate-dipped Central Otago cherry.
A recent social media post by a member of the increasingly influential Auckland food group Lazy Susan includes a detailed breakdown of the kind of care that goes into a Cocoro meal - three types of rice to form the single, perfect blend that makes the nigiri; in-house pickled ginger is infused with manuka honey; yuzu salt is made from the dried peel of fruit grown in the chef's home garden.
There is so much to take in. It's really hard not to eat forensically, to analyse every mouthful to the nth degree. If the sheer and astonishing quality of the food forces a reflective reverence, the waitstaff are the counterbalance, encouraging conversation and laughter. They remind you this is a restaurant and you are allowed to have a great time. The kitchen is brilliant and the diner must reciprocate with joy and wonder and something altogether more imaginative than a list.
Cocoro, 56a Brown St, Ponsonby, Auckland, ph (09) 360 0927. We spent: $535 for two.
That Cocoro has given nicknames like "Partying Otters", "Elopement", "Awesomest" and "Whale Rider" to their ultra-premium sakes cracks me up. I'm also particularly tickled by "Black Mirror", "Devil Killer", "Dust Bunny" and "Naughty Cat" too. There's "umeshu" (Japanese sweet wines) and "shochu" (Japanese spirits) aplenty and beers from Yona Yona, Urbanaut and Garage Project.
Wine-wise however, it's deep breath time, because Cocoro's encyclopaedic collection isn't just a list. It's a pages-long piece of art curated by someone with wizarding powers of wine knowledge. In addition to featuring Japanese wineries Grace, Ikeda, Jyonhira, Kikyogahara, Obuse and Yamanashi Bailay, they also champion locallyowned wineries operated by expat Japanese, like Central Otago's Sato, Waipara's Koyama, Marlborough's Folium and Martinborough's Kusuda and Ma Maison.
The "By the Glass" selection is drool-inducing but the bottle list is where it gets super-sexy. Forty-three of the world's finest Champagnes? No problem. Featuring Krug, Cristal, Jacques Selosse, Bollinger, Billecart and a smorgasbord of "grower" champagnes, it's my ultimate fantasy fizz-list. Chablis is, by a mile, the best sip for sushi, sashimi and seafood degustations, explaining why there are nine of excellent examples to choose from. Prefer sauvignon, pinot blanc, gewurztraminer or gruner veltliner instead? Then this list is your aromatic oyster. New Zealand's greatest wineries are all represented, Australia and South Africa too. Chardonnay and pinot noir lovers will lose their minds in all the Cote de Beaune, Cote de Nuits, Cote Chalonnaise and Maconnais on display and the hectares of lovely bottles from Bordeaux, the Rhone, Alsace and Provence to perve at. Don't even get me started on their dessert and fortified offerings, they read like bottles the Queen would take to a desert island. Japan is also fast becoming a whisky powerhouse and Cocoro has no fewer than nine of the best on their list. Forget oysters. For wine nerds like me, this drinks list is nothing short of aphrodisiacal.
— Yvonne Lorkin
Broadcaster has written a new book about the joys of getting older.