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To enter the kingdom of Juno, you must weave your way through what must be one of London’s most nerve-fraying assault courses.
First, traverse Notting Hill’s rom-com worthy backstreets without falling in love with a floppy haired gent from a posh bookshop and do your best to find Los Mochis. Granted, this bit isn’t too hard. Once you’ve spotted this elaborate garish Japanese-meets-Mexican restaurant, you must try and not be overly distracted by Dia De Los Muertos shrines to Yoda from Star Wars, humongous cartoon robot murals and the general feeling that Mr Brainwash might jump out at any moment brandishing a can of neon pink paint and imploring that you do a mezcal shot with him.
This skilled duo delivered banger after banger of perfectly formed fish dishes, like back-to-back DJs at south London rave spot Venue MOT
If you’ve managed to get this far then bliss – and a more muted colour palette – awaits. Make it to the back end of Los Mochis’ upstairs dining room and you’ll be guided into Juno; a supremely chill wood-panelled space that fits just six diners, making it either the smallest omakase counter in the UK or a strangely seductive panic room.
Once inside we were greeted by Los Mochis’ congenial exec chef Leonard Tanyag (formerly of Zuma), and head sushi chef Han (Nobu, Roka). For the next two hours, this skilled duo delivered banger after banger of perfectly formed fish dishes, like back-to-back DJs at the culinary equivalent of intimate south London rave spot Venue MOT. Biggest hits of the night? The creamy kani king crab with ponzu butter, a perfect pot of hamachi yellowtail with crunchy cereal, and a slice of pink, perky tuna that was so melt-in-the-mouth it had practically dissolved by the time our teeth got anywhere near it.
Like Los Mochis, the concept at Juno’s restaurant-within-a-restaurant is Japanese-Mexican fusion, but with the Japanese part of the bargain leant on far more than the Mexican. So rather than okonomiyaki covered liberally in queso, we get the occasional Central American ingredient served with traditional sushi and nigiri across a high-energy – and occasionally atsounding – 15-course tasting menu. Flying ants mixed with chilli and salt, a smattering of grasshopper shavings and wagyu with an agave worm were the most leftfield additions; while on the more conventional side there’s creamy aubergine with pickled Mexican turnip aka jicama, and a slither of hirame fish which had been fed with cactus before it met its end. It all works extremely well, and the potent coming together of jalapeno and wasabi seems like the kind of superhero crossover that should have been a culinary staple for decades.
There are various other twists to the more reverential omakase set-up here at Juno, which at £180 a head is as punchy as the jalapeno/wasabi combo. As well as being miniscule, it’s gluten and nut free, and we’re also asked if we’d like to choose the music that’s playing in the room; though Leonard’s eyes widen when he says a recent party selected a soundtrack of nothing but Nicki Minaj. Juno isn’t quite ‘anything-goes’, but it’s the most fun you can have in a room the size of a studio flat without annoying the neighbours.
The vibe Extremely intimate – this is the UK’s smallest omakase counter, tucked away upstairs in Notting Hill’s Los Mochis restaurant.
The food A 15-course, chef’s choice omakase offering with delicate Mexican additions to classic Japanese sushi. It’s also nut and gluten-free.
The drink There’s a sommelier on hand for wine, sake, and agave pairings. Or you can just have a lovely beer.
Time Out tip Sit back and enjoy the ride – the chefs choose the menu for you, so all you need to do is have a lovely time (and pay accordingly).