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Review
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In a city that holds sun-soaked rooftops and water views as the gold standard of its hospitality scene, opening a basement bar so dark you can barely see your hand in front of your face might seem like an outlandish move.
But emerging hospo double-act Cynthia Litster and Evan Stroeve, who opened local favourite The Waratah in nearby Darlinghurst two years ago, have moved into this small sunless room with a bright vision.
Inspired by Tokyo’s late-night izakayas, Litster and Stroeve have drawn up a drinks list with a strong sake bent, and enlisted former Cho Cho San head chef Nick Sherman to steer the snacks menu.
They’ve also applied to extend their 2am curfew to 4am to underscore some genuine late-night credentials.
As you feel your way around the blackened bar you’ll notice there are no bad seats in the house. The floorplan runs in a circle, the main bar space squeezing beneath the stairwell into a corridor of two-person booths that unfold like a train carriage.
Lit by the soft glow of its looming orb lamps and cut-away drinks cabinets, subtle features will emerge slowly: hand-painted walls, collections of Japanese vinyls, rows of hanging patchworks, and stacks of swollen sake barrels (or kazaridaru).
On one side of the room, there’s a nook for the bar’s DJ program, filling the space with a mix of soul, funk, pop and Japanese hip hop six nights a week.
Inside this blissfully tranquil underworld, Sakura’s service is the only slight glitch. You may be told that it’s table service, then that it’s bar service only, leaving you either hovering awkwardly at the bar, or fretfully back at your table unsure if anything will arrive.
The food at Sakura is designed to do what izakaya food does best: arrive quickly, invite sharing, and keep pace with the drinking. It’s a tight menu, with dishes skewing snacky and indulgent.
The tempura murasaki peppers are a good place to start. They arrive in a generous stack, shiny with chickpea miso and kombu, delivering a satisfying salty crunch that pairs well with a beer.
The takoyaki here is a playful take on Osaka’s famed street snack. Diced octopus is brushed in shichimi tare, finished with fluttering bonito flakes, and skewered with paddle pop sticks for a hectic but sumptuous tear-apart.
Other classic bar snacks follow in reliable form. The bite-sized ebi bao is smothered in creamy Japanese aioli and sharpened with a squirt of tonkatsu sauce, while chicken gyoza are slicked with sesame la-yu and fried garlic. Chicken karaage, glazed in hot miso and scattered with shallots, carries a gentle burn.
The kitchen cuts its orders at 10pm, but you can still get serves of the takoyaki skewers, ebi bao and chicken karaage, as well as a white chocolate matcha mochi, into the early hours.
Co-founder Stroeve was anointed Australian bartender of the year five years ago and the drinks menu is as bold and ambitious as you’d expect.
The list opens with four Japanese lemon sours, including a citrusy “Sakura Sour” with Haku craft vodka, lemon, yuzu and bubbles. After a hot day pounding the CBD, this one goes down like a light lemonade, though some might want a harder kick.
There’s also an “Ehime Sour” with Roku gin, mandarin, mint and jasmine; and a “Tochigi Sour” with Toki whiskey, strawberry and toasted rice. The pick of the bunch though is the “Nagano Sour” with Espolon Blanco tequila, fruity with apple and the Japanese spice sansho, with a spray of wasabi adding its unmistakable tang.
The menu also has a small collection of highballs. The house edition is a clean, refreshing mix of Toki whiskey, house mineral and citrus. There’s also a version that stirs “pantry spices” and soda, and another that combines malt barley, honey and soda.
Elsewhere, classic cocktails are given a playful Japanese makeover. There’s something called a “Fizz”, which does its best impression of a mango milkshake, and a Martini that’s reimagined with Haku vodka, cherry blossom liqueur, purple shiso and pickled onion.
Beyond the cocktails, there are around 40 options for Japanese whiskey and countless sakes that rise to $2000 per bottle. You can also find a collection of lesser-spotted Japanese beers – with a rice lager, white ale and a Nagano-brewed stout – and a solid, global wine list, with ten available by the glass.
Time Out tip
Sakura House is walk-in only which fits its relaxed spirit. But if you can (and without making a scene), make a beeline for the train-carriage booths. Tucked away from the bar, they’re the best place to sink into the CBD’s ultimate hideaway and lose track of time.
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