Sushi of Shiori

The style of the food at Shiori initially seems on the traditional side – what you might expect from Hiro, or the Edoko – Tajima-tei – Matsuri trio around Holborn – but marked out by the delicacy of the cuts of fish and their presentation. Before setting up on his own, Shiori’s chef first came to London to work at Mayfair’s Umu, and it’s in the kaiseki-like flair of the way he sets up his plates – the placing of a daikon-curl just here, a spray of spring onion just there – that his training shows. (Though in our opinion, the omakase at Shiori far exceeds what you get in the sushi and sashimi courses at Umu!) This attention to detail might mean that with a full house orders can take a little while to arrive, although thanks to the intimacy of the restaurant and attentive service, you know you’ve never been forgotten. The little, inventive touches, like a creamy scallop touched with black truffle, or a slice of octopus brought to life with a fragrant homemade shiso-leaf pesto, show that something interesting is happening here, which you won’t have encountered elsewhere. That’s not to say that it’s full-blown fusion, as at Dinings say, but rather an entirely Japanese palate and aesthetic, with hints of modernity. Because of its size, Shiori does a healthy take-out trade (if you call in advance, you can pick up your order already made-up) and we envy those working nearby who could pop in for a quick sashimi salad at lunch. Over the last few months – it’s still relatively new – we’ve tried a range of the set sushi plates, but what keeps us coming back week after week is the outstanding omakase option, where you name a price from £30 a head and let the chef do his thing. (I think they prefer if you let them know when you call to reserve if you might want omakase.) His combinations will vary slightly each time and according to the seasons.

Certain things stand out: the rich sea urchin folded in a creamy scallop, an appetizer of translucent squid tartare laced with green chilli, the huge and succulent spot prawns, the razor-thin slices of sashimi (usu zukuri) laid out in a fan, all made from ingredients sourced with loving care. Of this last, try both the glisteningly tasty salmon and the edge-seared tuna, which are lent a ceviche-like inflection by the tangy citrus in the ponzu dipping sauce. We rarely leave without a scoop of one of the homemade ice creams, topped by a sesame and sunflower crisp. If the cherryblossom sorbet is out of season, don’t miss the sweet pumpkin, or the most recent addition to the menu, a black sesame ice cream of charcoal-like intensity, that quickly became our favourite. Don’t expect the instant trendy ambience or expensive interiors of a Roka or Sake No Hana, but for a quiet meal with a couple of friends, in our experience you won’t find better sushi in London (and incidentally at such reasonable prices).