Tag Archives: Japanese

July 31

Sosharu. Atherton goes further east than the City.

If I were given the power to make the law, rather than just interpret it, I would rule that all toilets had to be in the Japanese style. Features include a heated seat which flips down to welcome you,  strategically-placed jets to wash you down, and a built-in blowdryer to conclude proceedings. It senses when you have finished […]

May 13

Coya. Peruvian/Japanese Roka-style mashup.

I’d tried to get into my standby, Roka Mayfair and the voice-without-warmth on their reception told that I might be able to get a walk-in, if I was lucky. It seems that even if you go somewhere at least once a week and you and your colleagues take clients all the time, well, they still […]

November 26

Sexy Fish. Wear your best trout pout.

In the end, I had to put my splayed fingers on the glass, covering the faces of the paparazzi, their noses pressed to the window. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Rita Ora, I can’t imagine that they were particularly interested in Piers Morgan, sitting a couple of tables away. If you’ve ever been to Las Vegas, you will […]

September 10

Sushi Samba. Splash the cash.

My FOMO has reached new proportions. I know that this is a mix of Japanese, Brazilian and Peruvian, pure con-fusion food but I’m not sure what that really means.  Though I do know my nigiri from my sashimi, I’m not so hot on the churrascos and the anticuchos, so I have decided to plan in advance,  otherwise known as looking up […]

January 29

Maze Sushi. Miso-ry in Mayfair.

Let’s go to Roka, says J. It works for the diet and it’s just round the corner. Roka (pronounced Rock-a) has become our local client lunch eatery of choice, in that culinary hotch-potch that is NoMa. What is NoMa, you may ask, unaware that is my pathetic one-woman attempt to turn the outer reaches of north […]

August 02

Kurobuta. It’s all a matter of taste.

I tend not to read reviews before I eat somewhere new – I find that I’m swayed. I do want a vague sense of whether it might be snog/marry/avoid, but nothing more.

February 25

ROKA rocks NoMa

Lipstick Rose, by Frederic Malle, is one of my very favourite perfumes.  You don’t have to be a genius to work out what it might smell like. Traces of grandma’s handbag, rose and violet creams and a rush of memory. So when I saw a cocktail of that name here, I was bound to order it. […]

Flesh and Buns. Go, despite the name.

Flesh and Buns. It wouldn’t be my first choice for a restaurant name. Or even my last. Had I not known it was the sister restaurant to the very lovely Bone Daddies, the Soho noodle bar, I wouldn’t have given it a second look. But having had one of the very best bowls of noodles […]

Dinings. Who knew?

I’d walked past this on my way home. It’s in that that non-area of Marylebone, leading to Edgware Road tube station. I was surprised that I’d never heard of it and thought it was some dodgy little sushi operation. I asked Twitter whether there was anyone who had heard of it, or who had actually […]

Naoe. Not for the faint-hearted.

We had to get down to Brickell Key. It’s a man-made island off the south-east corner of Miami. According to Wikipedia, it was created by Henry Flagler, who dug a nine-foot channel at the mouth of the Miami and created two small islands. Every industrialist needs a couple of islands, don’t you think? And it’s like Canary […]