Restaurants

By Guy Dimond

Alan Yau is London's most influential restaurateur. Although not a household name, his work has changed the way Londoners eat out. He created Wagamama in 1992 (before later losing ownership of it); Wagamama's looks inspired a whole generation of me-too oriental restaurants. He created Busaba Eathai, still the best value and most fun Thai restaurants in London. Then he created Hakkasan, the fine-dining Chinese restaurant that even experienced diners from Hong Kong marvel at. Yauatcha, his next restaurant, heralded a wave of copycat all-day dim sum restaurants. (He has since sold both Hakkasan and Yauatcha, in January 2008.) But now he's turned his attention to Japanese fine dining, in the shape of Sake no hana.

Alan Yau has approached Japanese fine dining in a typically unorthodox way. Sake no hana ('saké flower') has not gone the route of kaiseki ryori - traditional Japanese haute cuisine, exemplified in London by the outstanding Umu restaurant - that many were expecting. Instead, he's created a pick 'n' mix menu of both home-style and creatively modern dishes which fuse traditional Japanese culinary traditions, but aren't tainted by Western influences.

There are many other surprises. First is the Modernist building, historically an unlucky restaurant site; Che and then the lamentable Shumi both recently failed here. Yau has preserved the listed features such as the huge central escalators which dominate the entrance area and take up an absurd amount of the first-floor dining room. Yet he's disguised them with shiny black surfaces which give the illusion of entering a the lair of a James Bond villain.

The first floor initially looks as if the ceiling's propped up with giant toothpicks, then the references to Shinto arches and bamboo forests are clear. The award-winning Japanese architect Kengo Kuma has taken what is undoubtedly a very difficult space and transformed it with Japanese cedar, clever lighting and screens which soften the views of concrete outside.

The staff are that rare thing, both a pleasure on the eye (their ninja-inspired uniforms are sensational) and very proficient at their jobs - always smiling, and minor problems are dealt with seamlessly. We were very grateful for the help of saké sommelier Stuart Hudson, who guided us through the diverse £65 saké tasting menu (that's £65 per head, mind) - because the only wines on the list are expensive champagnes. The drinks list is as uncompromising as the menu: shochus (Japanese vodkas), shochu cocktails, Japanese whiskeys, a couple of overpriced bottled beers and lots of very good, and very expensive, sakés.

We needed help with the menu too. Even if you think you know Japanese food, you're probably in unfamiliar territory here. In the Japanese way, dishes are arranged by method of cooking, not by size. So, a medium-sized dish of Chilean sea bass (£15), two chunks marinated in miso and served with ginkgo nuts and shimeji mushrooms under an huge houba leaf (used in Japan because it doesn't burn easily), sits next to an appetiser-sized sliver of seared tuna (£7) on the yakimono ('grilled') section of the menu; there are no 'main courses' or 'starters', just an array of dishes of various sizes.

English translations of the menu headings would really help, unless you already happen to know that 'tsukidashi', for example, is an appetiser - and not to be confused with the sumo wrestling tackle of the similar-sounding name. Ordering therefore becomes guesswork - just as it can be when visiting Japan. But we were not disappointed with any of our choices, they all thrilled.

Goma dofu is a dish resembling tofu in texture, but it's created from sesame thickened with kuzu (a starch), to create a block with an appealing creamy texture. It's a Buddhist temple dish, and a linchpin of shojin ryori (Japanese vegetarian cookery). This version was as good as the best I've had in Japan. Other dishes are more challenging, but still good, such as the sheets of yuba skin (dried tofu skin), another shojin ryori ingredient imported from Japan. These were excellent, but served in a soup of soy milk, it was an unusual dish.

Flavours lean towards the subtle, not the bold. The strongest dish flavour was the sancho pepper (a Japanese relative of sichuan pepper) that topped a sticky rice dish, though even its numbing effect was mild compared to its bolder Chinese cousin. The dips that accompanied many dishes were variations on the classic flavours of shoyu (soy sauce), vinegar, sweet mirin and ginger, but they were all excellent. The array of beautiful Japanese bowls and saké cups add to the sense of occasion.

I suspect Sake no hana is one of those places you either love with a passion, or utterly fail to comprehend. It is definitely a place for people who adore Japanese food, and like eating and drinking outside their comfort zone. As Alan Yau later told me on the phone, 'This was not the easy option for us. This area (St James's) is very hard to please; they have money, but don't understand Japan. Some people don't even want to take off their shoes on the tatami mats. But it's a small restaurant, and I hope the small number of people who understand Japanese food will be enough (to keep us going).' I hope so too.

Time Out London Issue 1947: December 12-18 2007