Inside Dakadaka, London’s Most Talked About New Opening
Georgia is a culture that, in my own limited frame of reference, feels largely unexplored. Given my lack of experience, lack of understanding, lack of any general context, you can imagine my delight that a Georgian restaurant became this month’s place to be. Dakadaka has just landed with a thud, sandwiched confidently between Michelin stars and long-established restaurant awnings on Heddon Street. Dare I say, it fits in with the same sort of conviction as its proud neighbours.
This is traditional food subtly adapted to pulse to the sometimes rigid heartbeat of London, albeit still pushing our boundaries of what it means to experience a menu.
Mallory, Junior Food & Drink Editor
What sets it apart
Only 10 days after opening, I walked into Dakadaka through its heavy curtains, entering a floor which embodied the spirit of a centuries-old, high-end, mountain eatery. Immediately, there was a familiar sort of affliction, like I’d walked into my hometown bar. Old friends, new friends, all friends gathered amongst booths, scattered amongst strangers. Belly laughs and whispers mixed to form a pacifying hum, one soft enough to hear your date, loud enough to gossip about the table next to you.
The food was good, the menu striking, the drinks even moreso; but I hope that every visitor of Dakadaka takes a moment to appreciate the staff, as they steal nearly every inch of the show. Not two weeks into their shifts, waiters and waitresses, hosts and bartenders, chefs and sous chefs have come together to form a master class in execution. Something about the energy they emitted screamed, “ask me anything”. I don’t just mean ask about the food, I mean about them, about Georgia, about London, wine, friendships, relationships. An air of oversharing with strangers, what more should anyone want from an ambience? Hopefully, that’s not just me.
Come with an empty stomach and a heavy wallet, or save up until you have one.
What we ordered
Upon first glance at the menu, I was made entirely aware of where the restaurant’s hook of “Ancient Georgia” lay. These are dishes I have never seen, heard of, or imagined before. They are dishes that nurture a certain straightforwardness, and yet I was so baffled at the choices in their newness.
The sections of the menu are split up as follows: snacks, small plates, skewers, stuffed flatbreads, braises, sides & salads, and breads. Our waitress, Kaitlyn — one of the best servers I’ve encountered at a new restaurant — suggested we order two dishes from the snacks and small plates, and one from each of the remaining sections. To which I said, just order for me. If you have any wits about you, you’ll say the exact same.
Something I will say is this: we received 10 dishes, not including pickles, bread or dessert. At Dakadaka, the experience is truly fruitful when you indulge without holding back. Come with an empty stomach and a heavy wallet, or save up until you have one.
A sticky underlay of smoke, balanced with nutty walnut, bright pomegranate, and earthy herbs. These are the four walls.
We began with Soko, a crispy oyster mushroom served with a tarragon aioli. What a way to begin — a mountain of what looked like the best bits of the calamari. Not to sound undeserved of what may have been my favourite part of the meal, but this, to me, is that thing… that thing that I crave, usually hungover, that I can never truly put my finger on. A picky bit, the best part of the fried chicken, a vessel for a fatty sauce.
Moving swiftly on, a palate cleanser of Nigziani Badrijani (a small aubergine dish) is not necessarily an essential. That said, if you’re just too hungry to wait for the bigger plates, it’s a good place to start, and a great representation of the Georgian palette — a sticky underlay of smoke, balanced with nutty walnut, bright pomegranate, and earthy herbs. These are the four walls.
The anticipation for dish after dish being characterised by deep spices and dark meats was met with a brick wall upon the arrival of the Kindzmari…
The anticipation for dish after dish being characterised by deep spices and dark meats was met with a brick wall upon the arrival of the Kindzmari. This Cornish bream crudo, to me, represented a silver fish jumping out of placid water, leaving a ripple that’s effects last for the better part of a few minutes. The fennel, lime and coriander balanced out the heavier dishes. At the risk of sounding simple, the fish had the texture of cream cheese… but the really good kind, the kind you always stop yourself from taking just a little spoonful of on its own.
The Lobio (a kidney bean hummus) accompanied the cream-cheese-fish as an activity to occupy my hands (win). A satisfying tear of the bread, a sweep of the peak of hummus, the return to mouth. While this hummus is no Berenjak, it should crown all tables at Dakadaka, if only just to dress our perfectly greasy, puffed-up Puri.
…These are some of the best roast potatoes I have had in London.
Something to note is the potatoes. By potatoes I mean the oiliest, crispiest, shrivelled-up-in-their-skin potatoes, bringing bite to what, on the inside, fell apart into mash. These are some of the best roast potatoes I have had in London. If you are posed with the choice of any side or snack, it would be tough, but I’d say the spuds would reign supreme. An essential, a must.
Speaking of essentials and musts, I’m afraid the Khinkali was not one for me; a shame, as these dumplings are one of the more beautiful folds I’ve seen. Truly a hook. I could have drunk the soup inside by the bowl, but the wrapper felt like chewing store-bought penne drained far before al dente. That being said, I am not an experienced connoisseur of Georgian cuisine, and Khinkali is no doubt as traditional as it gets. I am willing to admit that I am just far too accustomed to starchy soft pierogies and thinly folded Xiao Long Baos.
But redemption comes easy for Dakadaka in the form of Penovani Khachupuri, a stuffed flatbread, ours with ogleshield cheese, fennel, coriander, and green chilli. At first bite, it is a flaky, gooey, balanced and warm pastry. Somehow, it is so reminiscent of something from my childhood. I can’t figure it out, perhaps it’s an illusion, but the feeling set me back in my seat, relaxed my shoulders, and rubbed my back — the hug lingered.
Finally, and I promise I’m almost done, a dish that I typically would not have ordered: roast chicken. Not sure why, something about ordering chicken always fills me with the dread of impending boredom, but the chicken arrived, and it was anything but. A milky, garlicy base sauce gave way to chicken that fell apart at the touch of silver. This, to me, is the perfect way to prepare what looked to me to be the most inconsequential part of the chicken, the breast. To that I say, good on ya, Dakadaka.
Verdict
Despite a certain critic at tables near who could only stomach French reds, this critic feels as though Dakadaka has acres of room to grow — a seed in the soil of a new Georgian landscape.
Dakadaka is not perfect, but I think that’s why I ended up staying for so many hours. Between glasses of amber wine evocative of a tannic black tea and dry whites flailing around the dining room as stories of lovers past or beaus anew poured across tables, I found myself truly, roots to the grass, grounded in the restaurant. Despite a certain critic at tables near who could only stomach French reds, this critic feels as though Dakadaka has acres of room to grow — a seed in the soil of a new Georgian landscape.
This is traditional food subtly adapted to pulse to the sometimes rigid heartbeat of London, albeit still pushing our boundaries of what it means to experience a menu. Between bites of pickles and chin wags with the service, I found myself continuously saying one thing: I’m so glad we are here.
Where: 10 Heddon St, London W1B 4BX
Website: www.linktr.ee
