After 10 Years, Parisian Cafe Mokonuts Still Thrives on Spontaneity and Charm

The first time I visited Mokonuts, I went for the cookies. It was 2017, at the height of the social media dessert craze, and I had seen one of Moko Hirayama’s famous treats on Instagram—and it was imperative that I try one. In the years since, I’ve returned as much for the experience as the food. The small, charming restaurant, tucked on a side street in Paris’ now-hip 11th arrondissement, is convivial and exciting, offering a short menu that changes daily and the sense that you’re somewhere special. It’s where I celebrated my 40th birthday, and it’s the first reservation I make when I book a trip to Paris. Indeed, since opening in December of 2015, Mokonuts has become one of the city’s most sought-after spots for those in the know. 

Hirayama and her husband, Omar Koreitem, who handles the savory aspects of the food, have taken the hype in stride. Their vision was always for somewhere intimate and friendly, and they’ve never opened for dinner (beyond the occasional private hire). Neither feels any pressure to move to a bigger space or to bend to something traditional.

“The way we do things makes sense to us,” Koreitem tells Observer. “There’s no reason to change it around. We’ve asked ourselves these questions a lot. And we’ve had opportunities to make Mokonuts bigger. There’s a cheese shop next door, and the owner begged us to take it over. But Mokonuts is nice the way it is.”

“What we created here can’t be replicated,” Hirayama adds. “We really appreciate the personal touch with everything. I talk to every single person who comes in, and that would not be the case if we expanded. It would lose the essence of who we are and what we do here.”

Despite the reluctance to grow Mokonuts, Hirayama and Koreitem did open a second restaurant, Mokoloco, in 2019, and a third, Mokochaya, last year. Mokoloco hosts guest chefs, while Mokochaya is a casual space for breakfast and lunch, with a walk-in only policy. They also finally agreed to write a cookbook, a huge moment for those who have been coveting Hirayama’s cookie recipes. Mokonuts is the result of several years’ worth of work—and even more years of pitches from publishers. 

“Phaidon approached us many years ago,” Hirayama recalls. “We had other opportunities to do a book, but those didn’t quite materialize. Phaidon was more lenient in terms of what we could put in. We didn’t want to be told, ‘You have to do this kind of recipe, that kind of recipe.’ We really wanted to have as much freedom as possible.”

The book, out now, showcases both Koreitem’s savory dishes and Hirayama’s sweet dishes, including multiple variations on her famous cookies. The chef-owners describe it more as a snapshot of what they were making at the time, rather than a comprehensive overview of Mokonuts’ fare. The menu changes so frequently that some of the recipes in the book have only materialized once.

“Every single thing in it has been served here,” Hirayama confirms. “But there are recipes that we did just one day, and that’s the spirit of what we do. The cookbook is to let people understand that spirit. The philosophy is in there, but it may not be exactly the same as what we serve now. If people come in and show me the pictures and say, ‘Can I have this today?’ that won’t happen.”

There is some consistency in the restaurant’s succinct menu, like the labneh, which is always served as one of the starters. But as the cookbook reveals, Mokonuts’ take on the soft Middle Eastern cheese dip is not classic. Like with everything else, Koreitem’s approach is all his own: mixing Greek yogurt with olive oil. “I make it that way because that’s the way I like it,” he says. “And it’s definitely better.”

The cookies are also always available, served as a trio, although you never know what flavors Hirayama will highlight on a particular visit. The chocolate chunk is her signature, as is the miso sesame (my personal favorite), but you’re just as likely to get a one-off cookie with an unexpected ingredient like pine nuts or saffron.

“Everything I do is interchangeable,” she says of her cookie recipe. “And I fully invented it. The first cookie I made was the chocolate chunk, and I studied all different cookie recipes and tried them and adjusted them. All of the others evolved from there, and there’s not a single dough that’s the same.”

Hirayama and Koreitem opened Mokonuts after years of working in other people’s kitchens. Before that, neither had operated in the restaurant industry. Koreitem, who grew up in France in a Lebanese family, was working at Yankee Stadium in New York City when the couple met. At the time, Hirayama, who was born in Japan and grew up between San Francisco, Tokyo and New York City, was a labor negotiator.

“The one thing that we had in common was that we both really loved food,” Koreitem recalls. “It became one of the main interests in our relationship. All our pennies went into going out to fancy restaurants. Five or so years into our relationship—the first year we got married, actually—I decided I would make it a career and decided to go to cooking school.”

The couple moved to London in 2006, and Koreitem got a job at Gordon Ramsay’s Savoy Grill. The long, challenging days made him second-guess his decision to become a chef. “It was one of the most formative experiences I’ve ever had, but the toughest time I’ve ever spent in a kitchen,” he remembers. “It was rough. I think three months into that job, I told Moko, ‘I’m done.’ She said, ‘You have to stick it out.’ And I really fought hard and worked my way up.”

Meanwhile, Hirayama, who was working at a London law firm, took a weekend gig baking for Ladurée. She worked there for over a year before deciding to make a career pivot. Although she trained diligently in pastry and has always enjoyed baking, she prefers to be loose with her measurements.

“I’m very not precise,” she admits. “It’s just always like, ‘A little bit of this, a little bit of that.’ I can’t do it any other way. And if it comes out bad, then I need to serve something else today. I don’t know if I should say this, but customers are my guinea pigs because I don’t do tastings. Omar doesn’t do it either. We never taste the complete plate. We know each element works, but when it’s complete, none of us know what it tastes like.”

This approach meant that putting together a cookbook was a challenge. Koreitem had never written anything down, although Hirayama had some of her recipe basics on the page. “I never measure precisely, but I know more or less how much it’s supposed to be,” she says. “So I think I had a little bit of an easier time than he did. But there are a few things that I don’t really use a recipe for, like my dad’s curry—that was just horrendous. I didn’t know what to do.”

Keeping things loose works for the chefs. Koreitem describes the spirit of Mokonuts as “making shit up,” while Hirayama wants it to feel fun. “We make things up based on what we have that’s available,” she notes. “We’re having fun as much as I hope the customers are having fun eating these things.”

“We need to make a living, of course,” Koreitem adds. “That’s the number one reason we keep going, believe it or not. But 10 years into Mokonuts, honestly, I still enjoy it. When we take time off, like when we go to Japan for a whole month in August, I miss cooking. I want to get back to work.”

Neither chef imagined that Mokonuts would make it to celebrate its 10th birthday. They take things day by day, as evidenced by their menu, although Koreitem is quick to admit he wishes they “planned things better.”

“I live in the moment,” Hirayama affirms. Koreitem replies, “I live in the moment with her and get stressed out doing it.”

This joyful, spontaneous sensibility is what many guests respond to, along with the food, which has impressed me every time I’ve dined at Mokonuts. The fact that the menu is never the same—I always recommend ordering one of every dish and sharing—keeps diners on their toes in a delightful way, as do the unusual cookie flavors. And the chefs only change things up when it suits them.

“We go through phases,” Hirayama says. “We’ve evolved into where we are now. We actually have started printing the menu. So there are always mini evolutions. Next time you come, I might even have a wine menu. We are always in search of what we can do to make it a little bit easier for us and easier for our customers. We’re not necessarily trying to challenge ourselves. It’s just that we get bored. We can’t do the same thing over and over.”

It’s a philosophy that’s perfect for a home cookbook, encouraging readers to take their own approach to the dishes. Don’t have one of the ingredients? Use something else. Don’t feel like measuring exactly? Don’t worry about it. It’s all in the Mokonuts spirit.