As most things with my beloved RunawayKiwi, dinner wasn’t
your average experience. Finding ourselves recently with a Friday evening that we were both free (no mean feat), we trawled
the internets on the Thursday evening for tasty cocktails, and ended up with 5-course
Mayfair restaurant meal the next day. As ya do.
I accidentally booked it under an alias which isn’t very
helpful for anyone – the staff, myself or my dinner date (of whom I told the
reception staff ‘a curly haired lady called Rebecca, possibly wearing space
trousers will come in asking for me’ to their polite puzzlement) and rocked up
in a spring dress possibly more suited to a June picnic. In the middle of
Over the course of dinner we discussed world peace, how to
use Snapchat (but it’s the blind leading the blind there, my favourite method
is just bash the buttons & hope it works), Christmas shenanigans, hatched a
plan or two, swapped tales of recent crazy meal experiences (she drank out of lab
beakers, I went to a parallel world) and generally just enjoyed a glass of
But, onto the restaurant. I’ve popped in a few times to the
cocktail bar for a pick-me-up, and always meant to visit and try the full menu.
I learned Japanese at High School (yes, yes, normal people take French or Spanish
and even though I had the option in my Oceanic-ly located country decided
(stupidly) to do something different) and developed a love for Sushi that hasn’t
dimmed. Due to the cost and quality of it in the UK I don’t indulge as often as
I used to (though I have subsequently found a weekday supplier who hands me specially
made rolls for breakfast and keep a supply of Okonomiyaki sauce in our pantry)
but on our recent visits home I’ve indulged proper like.
Based on the recommendations of both Mrs SalmonSpoon and Mrs
Sequins and Cherry Blossoms, plus a cracking dealio we found, we sat down to
our feast of delicate seafood flavour. It began with a plate of edamame beans
(salted not spiced as my preference) and a bowl of lovely, lovely white Miso soup (or Shiro Misoshiru for those that listened to their teachers…)
I headed down a menu path of salmon delight, whilst my erstwhile companion strayed a little. We both
inhaled enjoyed the small plate of Salmon Tartare to Fukiyose (or seared salmon with miso and tobiko, crispy truffle rice) – which was a lovely assemblage of textures and flavour. The fried salmon cakes with a sticky sauce were especially moreish.
Our sushi plates were lovely; beautiful and fresh, full of the flavour you expect from proper, quality ingrediants. I especially enjoyed the gorgeous salmon and piquant side of pickled ginger, it just melted in delight. Each bite was a delight. Becca’s vegetable sushi seemed to disappear almost as quickly (though the mango hovered on the edge of her plate a little suspiciously…)
For the main, I opted for the Salmon (see a theme here?) Hoba Teriyaki (the hoba is a serving leaf which amused us to no end) which was scrumptious, putting my favorite blackened cod to shame. The only course that I was surprised not to enjoy as much was dessert, a crisp apple tart tartin that fell a little to pieces.
Service was impeccable – they warned us at the beginning that our table was for two hours, but each course came out beautifully spaced, if we looked like we wanted for something someone was there (though they tried to politely wrestle our Miso bowls out of our greedy hands) and didn’t at any point hassle us to leave when we tiptoed over by 40 minutes. Girls do just love to talk!
Oishī, delicious!, as they say in Japan (and my old High School. I totally
had to look that up – what a waste of a good education. On an aside, the award for most bracketed blog post has to go to this one… oops!)
Do you revisit childhood flavours often?