Some things are worth waiting for. Koya has been on my radar for months. The reviews of this beautiful Japanese, the fresh udon and that fact that it lies in the heart of Soho with all of London's energy seeping through the restaurant door were pointers enough.
We had to wait 30 minutes in the dusk for a table, far from frustrating, it was a lovely moment of chatting with friends and catching up on busy days. The waiters, all wearing a collarless linen shirts, showed us to the table and waited, generously, for us to make any sort of decision on food.
My companions both had the lightest tempera I've ever tasted. I opted for udon, of course I did. My noodles sat, swimming in delicate broth with smoked mackerel providing the protein. We drank sparkling water and sipped on miso soup. They didn't do desserts. It was virtuous heaven.
The bill, not a scary figure, wasn't rushed upon us despite the queue outside. I discovered an old friend sitting on table for two by the door, waiting for her date. We left, into the warm November night and vowed to go back and enjoy another evening on Koya.