There’s a fine line between inspired madness and calculated illusion. A line, as Rummers put it while inspecting his Teacup of Trickery cocktail with the suspicion of a man unsure if it might disappear in a puff of smoke. And so it was that we found ourselves at the latest creation of Six by Nico – this time tumbling down the rabbit hole for a Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.
It began with a doughnut. Not your average jam-filled comfort, but one conjured from roast chicken fat, with shards of crisp skin folded within. It arrived like the lovechild of a Tim Burton prop and a carnival treat – warm, golden, faintly sweet, yet unmistakably savoury. And, oddly, it worked. “That’s pretty mad,” Rummers intoned, nodding his approval, “and would throw me if it was served for tea.”
The next course, Caterpillar’s Secret Garden, was a forest floor in miniature. A wedge of barbecued hispi cabbage nestled beside a smoked potato terrine of quietly confident geometry, laced with garden herbs, a dab of taramasalata, and a dash of unexpected heat to raise an inquisitive eyebrow. The cava – Brut Bocchoris from Cataluña – gave it a calming influence. So far, so intriguing.
Then came the painting of roses; a goats’ cheese parfait shaped like a bloom, resting on a bed of beetroot and grilled red pepper, before a vivid red ancho chilli apple drizzle painted the plate, literally and figuratively. The whole thing tasted uncannily like a toffee apple at a bonfire night curated by Yotam Ottolenghi. A minerally Romanian muscat lent a honeyed counterpoint. It was delicious and disconcerting at the same time, like a nursery rhyme told backwards.
Breakfast in Disguise – Sunny Side Upside Down promised whimsy: pollock (the fish, not the abstract artist), black pudding, egg yolk jam and smoked bacon. What we got was a trompe-l’œil with more trompe than l’œil. A menu slip stuck to the egg yolk – intentionally, I should add – felt gimmicky. “Hmm…” Rummers frowned, “…you might describe this as a conceptual misfire.” The pollock was pleasant enough, but the combination lacked cohesion. Neither breakfast, nor dinner. It was a curiosity too far – Alice might have approved, but we didn’t.
What the surroundings lacked in overt fantasy — no ticking clocks, no striped cats grinning from the walls — they compensated for in sleight-of-hand. Just as we began wondering where the wonder had gone, a magician appeared, unannounced and faintly surreal, weaving card tricks and conjuring coins from behind ears with the ease of someone who might genuinely have stepped through a mirror. “Now this,” Rummers whispered, as a signed Queen of Hearts vanished before our eyes, “is what I expected.”
Back to the menu, penultimately, Off With His Head – crisp pig’s head with fennel, lovage and a mustardy apple mousseline – was Nico back on firm footing, but it lacked execution. Perhaps this is where the once stand-alone kitchen booked out for months was beginning to suffer for having been reproduced across multiple cities.
Jam First – Logic Later, an ‘inverted’ take on tea and toast, featuring a burnt toast delice that was smoky, creamy, and balanced by a vivid strawberry sorbet, a delicate tea ganache, and a playful ‘Jammy Dodger’, theatrically retrieved from a box emitting the last whispers of dry ice. The accompanying frizzante brought a cheerful fizz, but added little in the way of structure — more flourish than function. As a dish, it was inventive and charming, though the flavours occasionally felt like characters from different chapters. Still, it was a fittingly curious end to a meal that invited you to suspend logic, if only for a while.
Three years ago, I first fell into the Six by Nico experience with a sense of wonder; a dinner that told a story, first in Canary Wharf, then Charlotte Street a few months later. Now, it tells the same story to everyone, six times a night, across multiple cities, like a West End show in its fiftieth run. Still polished, still pretty, but lacking the enthusiasm of its original run.
“It’s haute cuisine for the high street,” Rummers put it as we left. There’s no denying the inventiveness; the flavour combinations are clever, sometimes bold, but what once felt like culinary theatre now feels formulaic. The pass becomes a production line, with chefs at a canteen rather than a culinary canvas. The waiting staff deliver dishes by rote. The illusion, you could say, is fading.
There’s still magic to be found, sure. You just have to be willing to follow the white rabbit — even if, occasionally, he’s running a little late.
The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party runs at Six by Nico until 24th August. For more information, including details of venues, and for bookings, please visit www.sixbynico.co.uk.
