I had wholeheartedly hoped that Gouqi, a new modern Chinese fine-dining restaurant that has appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the shadow of Trafalgar Square, would prove not to be the over-priced and suspiciously-hyped venture that the critics had billed it as before giving it a try in person.
That was, in part, because I don’t care for Giles Coren, but it was also because I’d enjoyed a rather pleasant day out in London and didn’t want it to ruin my Saturday night. And to my pleasant surprise, things got off to a good start.
Two cocktails (not on the menu) arrived within minutes of us emerging through the dark curtains and out of the glare of the afternoon sun into a cool bar devoid of the stuffiness of the streets outside. An Old Fashioned – made with American Bourbon and not the Bourbon-aged Goalong 5yo which was a missed opportunity – displayed a striking Irn-Bru colour behind frosted glass and had a delicate, zesty sweetness, while the cool coffee underbelly of the Espresso Martini filled a domed glass in perfect harmony with the fluffy white crema on top. So far, so good.
But things turned Coren-esque when we were then hustled through the empty dining room to a curtained-off area at the back where an entree of Deep-Fried Softshell Crab (£21.50) was brought to the table perched atop a bowl of curry sauce which, enjoyable as it was, wouldn’t look out of place spread over a katsu curry in Wagamama.
Early signs that Gouqi occupies the style over substance camp were there for all to see when the Supreme Royal Dim Sum Platter (£43.50) hit our table. The bright blue, green, purple and orange hues were more befitting of the Mos Eisley Cantina on Tatooine, while the fillings were notably bland juxtaposed to the shiny outer layers of the steamed dumplings. One can only hope diners are too busy posting Instagram snaps to notice.
The rather more humble Minced Duck Lettuce Wrap arrived with lettuce leaves sitting at 12, 3, 6 and 9 O Clock on the plate and a Christmas pudding-style mixture sitting in the middle. Crispy skin from the Legendary Peking Duck (£128) arrived next to a small bowl of brown sugar, providing one of the most unassuming yet enjoyable points of the evening.
By the time dessert was brought to the table with icy vapour pouring out of the sides we had pretty much got the measure of the place. I hate to say it, but it’s all shirt and no trousers on the food front, with a decent pre-dinner tipple and convenient location about the only things to shout about.
25-34 Cockspur St, St. James’s, London SW1Y 5BN
