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.