As a frazzled 30-year-old living in a Zone 3 house share, stepping foot in Mayfair is like receiving a jovial slap to the face. Out of the blue it’s pretty startling. If you anticipate it, however… It’s almost funny. Almost.
Either way, the contact is bound to sting. Of course, like an extra long voice note or a deep-tissue massage, there’s nothing wrong with a little pain in the name of the very best. But let’s be honest, this part of town tends to feature a glut of style over substance.
On the surface, Gaia — a new Greek restaurant with a £68 lobster linguine, a sister spot in Dubai and more marble than the British Museum — might seem just the sort. Though inside, when confronted with its warm, Mediterranean hospitality, you’ll find an utterly delicious experience.
Sure, the army of Louboutin-wearing, Birkin-swinging figures who qualify for a lap on DiCaprio’s yacht might be a tad intimidating, but the silken tzatziki and taramasalata with warm, sesame-speckled koulouri and pita bread are far more beguiling. A puff of dough filled with ksinomitzithra, graviera and anthotyros cheese, topped with shaved truffle table-side, adds a sprinkling of theatre, though it’s the fish plucked from a shimmering shoal on ice that steals the show. Tomato and garlic-drenched prawn saganaki and butter-soft, lightly charred octopus offer devilish, breath-altering delight, while the grilled snapper is expertly basted with lemon and sliced jalapeños to balance its sweetness.
To finish, a £28 (yes, really) tower of luxuriously dense frozen yogurt served with a side of fluffy, scoffable loukoumades (doughnuts) called for a crane to lift us to Green Park station. Needless to say, I asked it to come round the back.
