Taking over – sort of – from Roux at the Landau comes Mimosa, and its promise of "Riviera cuisine". The previous project was a victim of Covid and, possibly, given that it was at The Langham, a rather confusing name. The new venture, from French operators Moma Group, promises to "take guests on a culinary journey through the Riviera" where "speciality dishes and the freshest of produce" will transport diners "from Saint-Tropez to the Italian Riviera" on "a one-way ticket for joy and light."
The interior
(Image credit: Mimosa)
While the joy might not be instantly noticeable, the light certainly is. The room is resolutely a hotel dining room – that's not a complaint, just a statement of fact – but it's a hugely impressive space, mainly thanks to the enormous windows flooding Mimosa with natural light, and the two ceiling fans which are, frankly, the biggest I've ever seen.
As well as a private dining room just around the corner – between some impressively stocked wine cabinets – there are two charming alcoves offering a semi-private experience. The glassware and crockery are elegant but "old school" and, with the salmon walls and teal cornices offering a distinct air of Mediterranean villa, there is a distinct feel of French holiday to it all. I also like the room-dividing shelf of mimosa flowers and citrus-themed objets d'art but that's probably mostly because I can refer to it as a "lemony snicket".
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There's a short, but creative, cocktail list and a somewhat punchy, very French-forward wine list – the New World doesn't get a look in, and there's nothing under £65 – but there is a moderate (if pricey) selection by the glass.
As for the food, "it's a sharing concept," explains our charming server, somewhat unnecessarily given that the words "to share" also appear on the menu under the Mimosa eggs section, the starters, main courses and the desserts. And somewhat confusingly, given the next explanation. "We suggest two, maybe three, starters between two, and a main course each." So, like any other restaurant then?
There's a more obvious problem with the sharing concept, but we'll come to that.
There is, at least, nothing baffling about the opening cocktails: a delightfully boozy rum, mezcal and mango purée creation called La Concorde, and my very refreshing virgin Mimosa – because titular drinks demand to be tried. The Mimosa Eggs – a duo of traditional and bottarga-topped – were also great (and a charming throwback), ditto the airy, crunchily salted focaccia and, particularly, the warming peppery pleasures of the Terre Bormane olive oil.
Then the starters arrived. And the more obvious problem arose. The dishes themselves – sea bream carpaccio (with zucchini, soy and ginger vinaigrette, and dill), and calçot-esque burnt leek "Mimosa" style with confit tuna belly – were splendid. The presentation was wonderful; the carpaccio formed the "scales" on a plate shaped like a fish, and is an Instagram sensation in waiting, while the leek, a textural triumph, comes sliced but reassembled and wrapped in the leek's charred outer casing.
The problem was that, to fit them on our table for two, we had to move the water jug, the salt, and the pepper to the neighbouring table, get the cocktail glasses whisked away, and it was still somewhat precarious. Quite how they'll cope with a busy service with a bigger group will be a sight to behold. Regardless, it's a reminder that, before you launch a concept and design, maybe speak to the front-of-house team who have to make it work?
Oddly, mains come on smaller plates and don't require "crockery Tetris" and, like the starters, they're thoroughly enjoyable. Meatballs, pomodoro sauce, stracciatella and basil is a bowl of suitably sunny flavours, ditto baked tagliolini, lobster, tomato and tarragon, a nest of glossy, rich pasta within which lurked a very generous amount of the hero ingredient. The sides of crushed potatoes and grilled baby gem were also very good indeed.
Then there was the pudding. L'ananas is a deceptively simple name for what is, frankly, the best dessert I've had so far this year: a hollowed-out pineapple containing diced pineapple, a layer of ice cream, and a ridiculously light, fluffy, pineapple cream with a gently brûléed crust. As a celebration of its key ingredient, it's a triumph.
The verdict
All things considered – and this visit being very early days, barely a fortnight from opening – there are a lot of good things here. Sure, there are some edges to smooth off but big flavours, solid cooking and a sense of fun mean it's a thumbs up.
And with plans to open a terrace in the summer, the restaurant will be serving up even more of a Riviera feel.
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