Chrysan

http://www.chrysan.co.uk

1 Snowden Street, London EC2A 2DQ

+44 (0) 20 3657 4777

Closest Tube: Liverpool Street, Shoreditch High Street

Saturday 2 March, 7pm

7 course dinner for two for 202 pounds (no alcohol was ordered)

Verdict: Thumbs up

A large wooden door, unmistakably Japanese, marks the entrance to Chrysan. Once inside this magical portal we are transported 6,000 miles to Kyoto in a heartbeat. If it wasn’t for the host that greets us with a thick east-end accent, I may have believed we were in the Land of the Rising Sun. 

The reception area is dimly lit and airy all at once, simplistic with both sharp lines and soft focus. Endless contrasts. Exactly what we are expecting from Chef Yoshihiro Murata’s menu.

We are escorted through to the main dining room and the sense of time travel seems certain. It is hard to believe that the hassle and bustle of Liverpool Street station is a stone’s throw away and that we walked past soulless office buildings to arrive in this space. It is a continuation of the traditional Japanese aesthetic; framed crafted timber-work and feature murals, shoji screens and lanterns, and to complete the theme, waiting staff neatly turned out in understated Japanese uniforms.

Perhaps it is because Murata-sama wishes to create Japanese dishes by fusing the traditional with the innovative that alongside our chopsticks, a knife and fork are also provided. As regular eaters of Asian food we wouldn’t countenance using these but for the less dexterous amongst us this may be a blessing.

Murata-sama’s reputation for being the master of umami precedes him. Umami, being synonymous with delicious (or more specifically delicious taste), is savoury and sits alongside the basic tastes of sweet, sour, bitter and salty. After downing the splash of lychee sake we are presented with, we do not hesitate to order the Kaiseki course menu, a traditional multi-course Japanese dinner for the uninitiated, analogous to Western haute cuisine. 

It is a type of art form that balances the taste, texture, appearance, and colours of food. To start with, we are presented with fish atop crispy vegetables. It looks and smells like cat food. I take a mouthful and leave the rest. Hoping this isn’t a sign of what is to follow. 

Next up is a celeriac brulee. It melts in my mouth, just like it’s creme cousin, yet it is not sweet. A thick prawn sits in the middle as a contradiction. It all works perfectly. My faith in this being a delicious experience is somewhat restored.

We move on to half a dozen sashimi presented in little colored glass jars, in pastel hues, that make me think of the hot pants that featured in the recent spring/summer fashion week collections. The standout pottle is the one containing a mouthwatering slice of tuna with a satisfying blast of mustard. Starting to see promise in this feast.

With barely time to reflect, a plate of sushi is set in front of me. It looks like it could be an entry into a flower show. The maki rolls and salmon cake are beautifully embellished with mini radishes and everything has been artfully presented on a plate that enhances both the appearance and the theme of the meal. I am loathe to disturb anything but my curiosity wins out. I am happy to report everything is fresh and I clear the plate, including the edible garnishes. Potentially foolish with four courses still to come.

Nimonowan, simmered or boiled foods served in a soup bowl is course number five. A couscous-encrusted scallop swims in a sea of chrysanthemum green. I am uncertain whether to use my chopsticks or a spoon. It is savoury and full of flavour but I’m not in love. My heart is still processing my feelings for the gorgeous sashimi and sushi I just met. 

We are thankfully given some space and time before we hit the ‘substantial’ course, Shizakana, of which we had five choices. I opted for native Scottish lobster in a miso broth, Orkney meets Kyoto, while my dining companion favoured the grilled red mullet. My dish is lovely but I am perplexed by the accouterments I am presented with to the extent that I embarrass myself by attempting to serve up a helping of my meal using my bowl rather than the ladle. The plate is for the dry-cooked fish. School girl error. At least I don’t drink the water from the finger bowl.

Pre-dessert, Hyouka or ‘ices’ is a sensory delight. A dinky long stemmed mini wine glass containing green tea ice cream smothered in foamy hazelnut mousse. The icy texture alongside the crunchy nuts creates a taste sensation. A lovely prelude that awakens my hunger for the sweet course. 

I am at the point of culinary exhaustion, uncertain if I can finish the comestible marathon but it seems what they say about having a separate pudding stomach may actually be true. At least figuratively if not literally. 

Of the four Kashi choices, I select the soy caramel apple tatin who appears with it's trusty colleague, cinnamon ice cream. Nice team. My friend selected the whisky parfait which arrives with an entourage, honey oats, raspberries and matcha ice cream. I prefer my traditional partnership to the more adventurous party plate.

Without wanting to be the blogger that blogs about the bogs, I can report they have Toto toilets installed. The self cleaning, multi functional, seat warming Japanese comfort stations. For anyone who has used one, I need say no more. For anyone that hasn't you're in for a treat.

Chrysan prepares "bento box lunches for the City boys" during the week alongside an a la carte menu. There is also a reasonably priced kanpai ("toasting") menu comprising a tasty dish and two cocktails for less than 20 sliders. 

We are presented with our coats and we re-emerge through that large wooden door and land with a thud back in the West after our brief escape to ancient, ritualistic Japan. 

With a big sigh, I conclude that I am both distended and fulfilled. It was not just a meal out, it was an experience in perception. The Kaiseki here is at least as good as the Kaiseki I enjoyed in Kyoto. Thumbs up Murata-sama.

Balthazar

http://www.balthazarlondon.com

4-6 Russell Street, London WC2B 5HZ

+44 (0)20 3301 1155

Closest Tube: Covent Garden

Sunday 24 February, 5pm

Dinner for two for 82 pounds

Verdict: Thumbs up

We have to wait in the cold because there is a queue. It’s not even been open a week and we have turned up promptly at opening time so we make allowances for the jam of people at the door. It is London’s restaurant de jour after all. Once we’re inside the cavernous art deco space the cause of our wait is clear. It’s evident that a highlighter pen and paper may not be the best reservation system, and lord knows if we will ever see our coats again. We are seated at an end table, allowing us to sit perpendicular to each other on the ox-blood red banquet so we are happy. No fight over who has to sit on a wooden chair.

It’s just after 5pm on Sunday. The end of London Fashion week means we are in the company of hipsters. But then anyone who has a reservation for Keith McNally’s London edition of Balthazar in it’s debut week knows what’s what. Since 1997, Balthazar has been a stalwart of the New York restaurant scene so there was little doubt when the rumours seeded of a London outpost that Keith and his magic formula would be a hit. Or at least a magnet for the trend-conscious foodie. 

Matthew 4.4 teaches us that “Man shall not live on bread alone”. That may have been true back then, but Matthew clearly hand’t tasted the delicious large dark-crusted rustic loaves on offer here. The generous portion provides challenge both to the bible and to one’s ability to refrain from spoiling one’s appetite. 

One look at the French brasserie-inspired menu has me and my dining companion beaming. And I was already smiling thanks to the immaculately turned out Bradley Cooper look-alike waiter-in-white. He is ever-present and tending to our every whim. He has already been on his hands and knees to rectify our wobbly table. The marble floor tiles look f-for-fabulous but are not f-for-flat. This waiter is one of many assigned to the section of the restaurant our table resides in, and it is almost comical as the staff buzz around us, to the extent of some near-miss collisions and moments of looking like they didn’t know what to do next. Forgivable for new staff during a much anticipated opening week. 

Due to snarffing too much bread and knowing that the dessert menu was chocked full of delights, we decide to share the Pumpkin Agnolotti to start. Instead of being made to feel like cheapskates, we are presented with two sets of plates and cutlery with the dish set down in the middle, as if sharing is encouraged rather than scorned. This made up for the fact that the dish itself is salty and over-bitter. Still two rounds to come and the surroundings and scrumptious bread (have I mentioned the bread?!) carry us forward without complaint.

Our mains arrive as we discuss the merits of having tea towels for napkins and what amounted to kitchen roll for a table cloth. Remnants of the Agnolotti showing on the table convince us that linen may be a stretch in a 140-seater restaurant with at least two dinner sittings. Once they are open all day these tables will be turning more than Adele’s hit complaining of the same (“Turning Tables” for the those with no appreciation for Adele’s complete library of crooning tunes).

My dinner mate is presented with a whole grilled Dorade, accompanied by romesco sauce and a simple herb salad. The grilled lemon is a nice touch, making for easy-peasy lemon-squeezey. The fish is expertly cooked, elegant in its simplicity and downright delicious. It is enough to overlook one of our pet peeves, the fact that they keep ground pepper on the tables. Only the waiters are trusted with a pepper grinder. 

Linguini “Fruits De Mer” is my main. Springy pasta popping with chili, parsley and garlic.  The range of seafood is limited with clams and squid battling for prominence to the exclusion of the expected prawns, mussels and scallops. Tasty enough but no food orgasm. Anyway, any enjoyment is disrupted by the clearing of plates when I still have a fork en route to mouth. Hopefully teething problems and not a blatant hurry-along tactic. We shall see. The dry cooked side of spinach is a good accompanying choice, both for the splash of colour and the iron hit.

Our thoughts turn once again to waste disposal as an elder gentleman from the waiting staff replaces our stained (we are enthusiastic eaters) table covering. We start talking and are informed that he is a veteran from Balthazar New York who has been flown in to train the new cohort and ensure the systems mirror those of the original restaurant. Kudos.

By this stage, I have consumed at least my recommended daily intake of water due to my glass being topped up as soon as half an inch of empty glass reveals itself. I have to admit I was taking a swig whenever the aforementioned hot waiter was nearby to bring him over to our table. Sure, the lazy spinning ceiling fans, frosted glass encased strip lighting, wood panelled pillars and antique mirrors provide a lovely ambiance, but this man is beautiful. 

My coquettishness forces a visit to the facilities. After a mountainous climb up two flights of stairs I am rewarded with spacious cubicles, clean surfaces and luxury soap and moisturiser. The ticks in the approval column are outnumbering the black marks so far.

Next, to the dessert menu. We are given a list of mouth-watering ideas for pudding, and presented with a mobile (hand held) cheese board. We opt to try the Rhubarb Crumble Soufflé for two with a side of banana ice cream. The sharing aspect is welcome - taste sensations are the objective, bulging waistlines are not. We aren’t disappointed with the finale of our Balthazar dining experience. Sitting tall and fluffy, with a gravy boat full of creme anglasie, the lighter-than-air treat is exceptional. The stuff dreams are made of for the sweet-toothed among us. 

Having given up alcohol for lent (and maybe my sanity) I didn’t even allow my eyes the distraction of reviewing the wine list. My friend had a glass of Lusac for a hefty 10.50. The total bill for a starter, two mains, a side, one glass of wine and dessert came to 82 for two. 

We are pleasantly stuffed and have vowed to return for many reasons. It’s a lovely place to sit, we need to sample other delicious looking menu options and we want to check up on the progress of their service culture. And if you are wondering, I didn’t ask that chiseled waiter for his number. I’m not that kind of girl. Like the rest of the experience, it is about appreciating and evaluating another episode in the culinary adventures of delicious nation.