Barefoot luxury | Review: Sake no Hana, London

I first ate at Sake no Hana in early 2008, soon after it opened. On arrival, I remember being invited to remove my shoes in order to take a seat at a traditional Japanese low table. Sockless in slip-ons, I cringed as I obliged: a day out in town had deposited a stark, grimy tide-line across the top of my feet. I recall being grateful for the décor in my hour of need – its shimmery blinds and low-lit multiple angles somehow distracted from my slovenliness.

It’s a great idea – a space in which to spend a couple of hours recuperating after looking intently at Old Masters, spending too much on a pair of shoes

Of course, embarrassment encouraged quick quaffing which in turn necessitated an early visit to the Ladies. And at Sake no Hana, the Ladies is in the basement, which can be reached only via the lift, where I was joined by three businessmen whose large shiny black shoes made my pink toes look almost obscene. Walking into the toilet cubicle also felt deeply wrong – however clean it had been kept – and the Alice in Wonderland feeling of some how being at odds with the surroundings was increased by the lock for the cubicle door, which was down at knee level, as if for designed for a hobbit or domestic pet.

But the food, I remember, was really good.

So seven years on, for the launch of their Umai Saturdays, I arrive with appropriate inner footwear and high expectations. It’s a great idea – a space in which to spend a couple of hours recuperating after looking intently at Old Masters, spending too much on a pair of shoes or trying to take a photo of the Queen’s Guard – and five courses for £37 including booze is undeniable value.

Though it should be noted that the first of these five courses – a white miso soup with wild mushrooms – doesn’t turn up at our table until we reach the third course, at which point we draw attention to the mistake and the waiter tells us ominously that there’s been a problem with the soup, though what problem might have occurred to our particular ladlesful that didn’t extend to every other table nearby, it is hard to fathom.

I have an allergy to sesame – something I had informed my waiter of – so this was essentially a platter of death

Never mind. We’ve got some sparkling sake to sip on – fruity, sweet and light – and the second course – “small eats” – starts the meal instead. We’re served sea bass sashimi first – delicate in its well-balanced chili ponzu sauce. This is followed by an attractive pink seared rib-eye beef in sesame dressing, with sesame spinach on the side. I have an allergy to sesame – something I had informed my waiter of – so this was essentially a platter of death, but my companions ate my portions with relish, while I tasted the second of the two wine pairings – a still sake with a little more punch than the last.

Sushi next, in the form of three different types of extremely pretty maki. Of these, two were hits – the spicy tuna was sweet and flavorsome and provided good contrast to the crunchy and refreshingly cucumbery yasai maki. The salmon and avocado, on the other hand, was a miss – picture something from your lunchtime supermarket sushi pack, only smaller.

Of the main courses, the sukiyaki – which involves the melting of a great periwig of candyfloss into a pot of sliced rib-eye beef and vegetables in stock – makes for great table theatre but also for a bland, sugary broth, though the meat itself is nutty and tender. The other mains – a robust plateful of tempura prawns and veg and some sticky, garlicky salmon – are strangely the better bet, unadventurous though they seem. The accompanying green and white asparagus is cooked just right – neither crunchy nor soft.

As sesame panna cotta is out of bounds to me, I choose a sorbet selection. I am better off, it seems. My zingy mandarin sorbet contrasts with the delicate plum sorbet, which offsets the rich mango sorbet. Meanwhile, my friends pick over the exquisite-looking panna cotta with curiosity. While other elements of the topping such as the mini-meringues, blackberries and even the garden flowers go down well, the true identity of the scattering of grey insulating foam-like stuff remains a mystery.

We are there for three hours. The idea is to relax, but the gaps between courses are noticeable, and I think a half hour could be shaved off the experience with no relaxation lost. At the end of our meal, we are presented with a small, neatly jointed box, from which we are told sake can be drunk. In the spirit of immediate enquiry, I try it and am rewarded a thick mouthful of corner-join and the taste of wood. I get the feeling I’ve got it slightly wrong again, though at least this time I got to keep on my shoes. C

Sake no Hana, 23 Saint James’s Street, London SW1
Sakenohana.com; 020-7925 8988