Review: Koko in St. Louis

Severe dread engulfed me when I read the first words on Koko’s Web site: “At the crossroads of central convenience and culinary perfection sits KOKO.” Ugh. OK, I agree that Koko’s Ivanhoe Avenue location in southwestern St. Louis is a wonderful choice, and being a few blocks from the highway is supremely convenient, but the claim that culinary perfection has been achieved sounds like absurd braggadocio, especially considering Koko used a consultant chef to create
the menu.

Although consultant chefs are becoming more common, I have two main fears when they’re used. The first is what I perceive as a low level of culpability if things go south. The consultant is already out and paid and has the ready-made excuse of poor execution on the part of those doing the actual cooking. Second, what happens when the chef who originally envisioned the menu isn’t there to keep the staff focused on executing that vision? Often enough, lazy, uninspired
food happens.

So it was all hardhearted that I arrived at Koko, but when I went through the door for the first time, there it was: hope. Owner Tim Nesbit was smart to keep the doorway curtains when he transformed the old Café Ivanhoe space. The area from the front door to the curtain is about 6 feet, just enough room to plan your entrance, and it allowed me the rare opportunity to get my drama queen on. Will it be a suave Johnny Carson, a Chevy Chase pratfall, an over-the-top Mr. Universe pose or maybe a Michael Flatley?

Any remaining dread melted with the warm, earthy, chocolaty décor and soft lighting. By the time our drinks arrived, relaxed conversation had engulfed our table and extended to the friendly and gracious staff. Would this be a perfect meal? Probably not. Would this be a perfectly pleasant evening at a neighborhood gem? The odds were good.

They improved with the arrival of the Zydeco Fries. These sticks of white Cheddar grits, rolled in cornmeal and fried, gave a satisfying crunch before yielding their mild, creamy treasure. Coupled with the rich, soul-warming kick of Cajun gravy (chicken gravy with brown roux) and the vibrant tang of green ketchup dipping sauces, things really started looking up. Appropriately battered, crunchy and tasty Abita Beer Batter-Fried Catfish Nuggets brandished a superb aïoli with bright acidic notes and grassy scallions.

When it came to the warm goat cheese salad, licoricey, slightly bitter greens and sweet cider painted a nice background for the creamy, warm, herb-crusted disc of Missouri goat cheese on top. Another or a larger disc would have enhanced the salad even more.

The Duck and Andouille Voodoo Gumbo astounded. It was a hair light on the vegetables, but the duck was luxuriously succulent, the andouille was chunky, spicy and full of smoke, the brown roux gave a rich and satiny mouth feel. But what I believed to be the best dish on the menu was followed immediately by the one that fell most flat: the pork chop. The ginger glaze and fruit chutney were done well, but the chop was dry to the point of being sandy in texture. The fried chicken was tender, juicy and, most important, the skin was incredibly crispy and carried a low-grade heat that built s-l-o-w-l-y until you needed more water but didn’t know quite why.

Beef and Beef, a tender filet topped with Cabrales cheese atop a bed of sweet and gently tart ropa vieja (Cuban shredded beef), sounded great on paper, but the shredded beef was overdone and clashed with the extremely sharp blue cheese. Koko did, however, nail the brisket in the pot roast. It still held its shape, though I don’t see how (must have been voodoo), and it melted in your mouth, simply dissolving in the sultry broth.

Koko’s specialties must be ordered by at least two diners, so I persuaded my wife to order the asopao with me. The Puerto Rican stew arrived in a full-size cast iron pot with a side of plain rice and contained briny capers and huge green olives; sweet green peppers; small discs of even sweeter corn on the cob; tender chicken; that spicy, smoky andouille; and a medium-hot broth, faintly tangy from tomatoes.

Mexicali Chicken Pizza started with a crisp thin crust, then the rich red mole kicked in and some coffee and smoke came forward to enhance the Cheddar, earthy black beans, sweet red onions and grilled chicken. The pizza finished with buttery avocado and a good bit of lime from the guacamole.

There was tender steak topped with a very complementary herb butter containing many of the same ingredients as the chimichurri in the grilled strip steak. This turned out pretty nice but could have ascended to something special with the acidic bite of a real chimichurri sauce.

The wine list is a big disappointment. It is disturbingly short, offering affordable but extremely limited options. The menu offers some very interesting flavors and textures and the opportunity to go far beyond the norm and pair these up with some fascinating wines. Hopefully this is in the works. Until then, it’s cocktail time at Nesbit’s nice new bar.

Culinary perfection may not have been achieved, but each visit was an eminently enjoyable experience that left me satisfied and happy that I had come. And in the end, isn’t that what you want from a nice neighborhood restaurant?