We had been wanting to go to DakaDaka for months. Honey Spencer, who runs the wine at Sune and on Eurostar, built the list here from the ground up when the restaurant opened. The whole list is Georgian, more than 150 bottles, almost all natural. If you have followed The Taste Edit for any length of time you already know we are devoted to Honey’s lists. Where else we drink her pours in London, and the natural wine bars we plan trips around in Paris, lives in The Edits.
We went on a Friday. The room is dark and candlelit, with a long bar that runs the length of the open kitchen and mirrors above it. There is a map of Georgia on the wall showing where every wine on the list comes from, and a chalkboard with the night’s specials in someone’s lovely handwriting. It feels nothing like Mayfair. Honestly, it feels much more like somewhere you would stumble into in Tbilisi, which I think is exactly the point.
We had a Vesper martini at the bar to start, which I would honestly come back for on its own, and then sat down and told the team to just pick the wine for us. This is the right way to drink a list like Honey’s. They poured us things we never would have ordered ourselves, including a Kindzmarauli, a semi-sweet Georgian red that I would not have picked up in a million years and but it worked. They did not say much about what they were pouring, they just kept opening good things and trusting us to figure it out.
Then the food started. The house pickles came out first and were so good, brighter and more herbal than I expected, exactly right with cold wine. The lavash came right after, baked in the wood-fired oven at the back of the open kitchen. It arrives blistered and still steaming, the kind of bread you start eating without meaning to and then keep tearing pieces off for the rest of the meal. Order it. Use it for everything.
Then Nakhvatsa, these long crispy corn and millet wafers with Mrs Kirkham’s cheese and walnut sauce, served with three colorful dips. Then Kindzmari, a Cornish bream crudo with coriander, sea herbs and wild fennel. So pretty, so well seasoned, the kind of dish where you just look at each other and go okay, this kitchen is good.
Then the Khinkali, which are the hand-folded Georgian soup dumplings everyone talks about, made with Iberico pork. There is a specific way you eat these and the team will walk you through it, which I loved. You pick the dumpling up by the twisted handle at the top, take a small bite from the base, slurp out all the hot broth, then eat the rest and leave the handle on your plate. It feels theatrical the first time and then very quickly becomes the only way you ever want to eat a dumpling again. I would come back just for those.
Then the skewers, and these were the surprise of the night. Mtsvadi, black spot pork with pickled walnuts and Roscoff onion. Kababi, native lamb kebab with satsebli, sumac and cedro. Our server told us we really had to order both because they were so different, and she was so right. The pork came off the grill almost sweet, with the pickled walnut cutting through it. The lamb was darker and more spiced, much closer to something you would have in the Levant but still its own thing. Two skewers, two completely different vibes on the same plate.
Then a Kharcho, which is a Georgian braise, and the Shila Plavi, this incredible Georgian rice dish with octopus, squid, prawns and a deep shellfish bisque. This is the one I have not stopped thinking about. It looks like a paella when it arrives and tastes nothing like one. So rich but somehow not heavy, lifted by the bisque. Spoon food, in the best possible way.
We also had the Kurdznis Salati, a grape salad with rosé radicchio, Castelfranco, St Tola goat cheese and honeycomb. Crisp, sweet, a little bitter, exactly what you want after a table full of grilled and braised things. So good. I would order this every single time.
For dessert we had the Napoleon Medok, a honey mille-feuille with whipped sour cream, dark chocolate and dulce de leche, with a Turkish coffee on the side. The pastry was properly crisp, the sour cream cut all the sweetness, and the coffee at the end was such a good way to finish.
The whole night was just really fun. Different from anything else we have eaten in London recently, totally its own thing, with a wine list you cannot get anywhere else in the city. If you are coming to London and you want one dinner that feels like a real discovery, book DakaDaka. If you live here, this is the new one to know. Ask for a counter seat looking into the open kitchen, tell the team to pour for you, and eat the khinkali the right way.
DakaDaka, 10 Heddon Street, London W1B 4BX.
Note: DakaDaka provided support for the reporting of this story.