There was one particular moment at Humo when your reviewer had to struggle hard to keep a straight face. The server was introducing our trout and caviar starter. He highlighted how the trout had enjoyed its life in a river in Hampshire before meeting its death in an Ike-Jine Japanese fashion which is supposed to minimise pain by paralysing the nervous system. Conveniently for diners, it also preserves the quality of the fish fat. Said trout is then smoked over oak. It is next topped with 3-month aged caviar, which is stored at exactly minus one degree in order to promote freshness. Perhaps it was the earnestness of the description. Maybe it was the length of time it took. Sure, we all want to be entertained when we go out – and have no doubt, there is no shortage of quality on show at Humo – but it was hard to escape the notion that the venue just took itself a little bit too seriously.
Every high-end venue in Mayfair needs an angle if it is to survive. To read the Humo website, however, is to invite ridicule. No diner (reasonably) cares about the notion that “since children… we have all been enchanted by fire.” It may be true, but a cute story is not going to draw me to any restaurant. OK, what the team does is quite cool. Similar to Ekstedt, Humo is all about fire and smoke as the mechanisms for cooking and imparting flavour to food. Add in some Japanese techniques and ingredients and you’ve got your ready-made story. Step into Humo and you are in very familiar territory. If the venue’s former occupant – the original Wild Honey – epitomised London dining in the 2010s, then Humo is aiming for the same in the 2020s. There’s a huge open kitchen along one side, with tables mostly positioned in a corridor opposite. We all get to marvel at the chefs in action. There’s a small bar at the back too. Everything is brown, chrome or black, even the server’s outfits. There was no shortage of them, but never the right person – the one who would take your order, or pour your wine – quite when you wanted it.
Onto the food and the menu is divided into four enigmatic sections: ‘ignite’, ‘smoke’, ‘flame’ and ‘embers.’ Presumably it evokes a journey. A server (if you can find one) is required to provide an explanation for how best to navigate. Over-ordering is the implicit expectation. We were told to take up to 8 dishes from the first three sections – we opted for 6 between the pair of us – and then one from the final range. A garden salad will set you back £12; a beef main – which our budget did not extend to – a mere £60.
Admittedly everything that did come from the kitchen was very good. A small skewer of herb-infused smoked chicken breast as a gratis amuse-bouche amply set the tone. Despite the verbose explanation, the trout and caviar may have been the stand-out dish at Humo. Eight small pieces, however, at £22 works out at almost £3 per mouthful. Humo is not a venue for the cost-conscious. Lamb and seabass mains were both excellent too. Presentation across our meal was superlative – a testament not just to the team, presumably, but an acknowledgement too of the need to build a devoted following on Instagram.
There is a lot to like about Humo. The wine list and the personable chief Sommelier deserve special mention too. A list ordered by grape varietal, from light to heavy, is a novel and sensible touch. There are some wonderful – and well-priced – options available, including the bottle of Priorat we selected. Nonetheless, many diners may baulk not only at the overall pricing but also the whole concept; as noted, one of style over substance. Focus on good cooking and deliver it in a less pretentious fashion and you may be onto a winner.