Unintended Gift
There is a certain poetry to how La Coco came into being—an unintended gesture that slowly settled into something real. A romantic impulse that became a quiet reality.
Eight years ago, Miki Nakamori and her partner arrived in Barcelona as travelers. In a soft, almost tentative gesture toward the future, they decided to make a home—an imagined prelude to distant retirement.
Soon after, Miki began running La Coco on her own in the city, while her partner remained in Tokyo, visiting now and then. Together, they carved out moments of stillness between two lives.
Yuki, once a regular at La Coco. One afternoon, Miki was quietly looking for help. Without planning, without preparation, Yuki—who had never considered a life in the kitchen—stepped into something unexpected.
It’s in these quiet turns that La Coco finds its weight. A restaurant run by two women with little formal kitchen experience, offering dining that resists the ordinary. Simple, but not without care. Warm, but never overstated.
It might be called a restaurant, but it moves more like a space shaped slowly by the everyday—two women, with no map for this place, establishing a quiet kind of order, unnamed and unhurried.
Interviewing
Eight years ago, Miki Nakamori and her partner arrived in Barcelona as travelers. In a soft, almost tentative gesture toward the future, they decided to make a home—an imagined prelude to distant retirement.
Soon after, Miki began running La Coco on her own in the city, while her partner remained in Tokyo, visiting now and then. Together, they carved out moments of stillness between two lives.
Yuki, once a regular at La Coco. One afternoon, Miki was quietly looking for help. Without planning, without preparation, Yuki—who had never considered a life in the kitchen—stepped into something unexpected.
It’s in these quiet turns that La Coco finds its weight. A restaurant run by two women with little formal kitchen experience, offering dining that resists the ordinary. Simple, but not without care. Warm, but never overstated.
It might be called a restaurant, but it moves more like a space shaped slowly by the everyday—two women, with no map for this place, establishing a quiet kind of order, unnamed and unhurried.
Interviewing
Miki, Yuki
The interview, too, was brief but warm—more like a greeting from an old friend than a deliberate exchange.
EST8: Compared to others, La Coco doesn’t feel like a typical Japanese restaurant. What led you to this particular approach to food?
Miki: The original idea was to share the most traditional, most authentic side of Japanese cuisine. We use many classic Japanese ingredients.
The soul of Japanese cooking lies in elements like koji—a rice-based fungus used to ferment ingredients and create things like sake, miso, and soy sauce. Beyond sushi and sashimi, that aspect often goes unnoticed.
EST8: That’s true. Still, some of the dishes at La Coco give the impression of French or fusion influences.
Miki: Really? (laughs) Maybe it’s because Yuki used to live in Switzerland.
We try to keep a Japanese foundation, but through a more innovative lens. We also incorporate elements from Spanish cuisine—some ingredients just work beautifully together.
The central idea at La Coco is traditional Japanese food paired with Spanish wine. It’s an unexpectedly good match. After completing my sommelier course, I found real joy in curating the wine selection.
EST8: Before La Coco, were either of you working in kitchens professionally?
Miki: No, not at all. I worked in the set design department for television in Tokyo. That’s why I’ve always been drawn to art, design, architecture…
Opening a restaurant was never the plan. It started as a retirement project with my partner. Now I’ve been running La Coco alone for five years. He visits every couple of months.
Opening a restaurant was never the plan. It started as a retirement project with my partner. Now I’ve been running La Coco alone for five years. He visits every couple of months.
Yuki: I’ve always worked in an office. Though I liked making things at home—Daifuku, Kimchi, little things—I never imagined I’d end up in a kitchen. When Miki was looking for help, I thought, why not? And now here I am.
EST8: What matters most at La Coco?
Miki: Bringing happiness to our guests. Creating food that makes people feel good. And letting them experience the essence of Japanese technique.
EST8: Preserving culture is a meaningful act—we can’t forget where we come from.
Yuki: I feel that too. Take my children—they’ve never lived in Japan. And to me, that’s a kind of loss.