42 43

B
y the time those prawn
nigiri sushi pass me for
the sixth time, I really
begin to feel their pain.
Sitting on a small, blue-
rimmedplate, entrapped
beneath a clear plastic dome, the
sorry pair, desolate and unloved, seem
resigned to an eternity spent upon the
vast, ponderous conveyor belt that
rolls by before us. It was like a piscine
Groundhog Day, only with a fraction of
the laughs, and Bill Murrays crumpled
features replaced by the soft pink and
white of a crustaceans backside.
Were sitting in Sohos Yo! Sushi on a
busy weekday lunch, watching various
Japanese greatest hits trundle past on
the aforementioned belt a few flaps
of lurid orange salmon sashimi, fol-
lowed by salmon nigiri (a lozenge of
vinegared rice, topped by stuff, usually
raw fish), then rolls filled with salmon
and avocado, and some strange, pas-
tel-coloured Japanese sweets that Id
cross continents to avoid. Theres more
salmon, then those wretched prawns.
So how do I know this exact plate
passed me half a dozen times? Surely
Im clocking a freshly made version
of the same dish, put together by the
hardworking folk in the middle of
the belt. Well, using my brilliant and
hard-earned skills of surveillance and
subterfuge, I came up with a dastardly
scheme pushing the lid off by a frac-
tion and counting howmany times the
plate passed by. Inspired, I know.
Anyway, I remember eating in Yo!
Sushi when it opened here in 1997. Oh,
the fluorescent-tinged, Tokyo-tinted
excitement! The wacky font, the wan-
tonandextravagant use of exclamation
marks. There were self-service taps for
still or fizzy water, even a button with
which to summon your bill. If I wasnt
exactly burned by the white heat of
technology, I was certainly singed.
In those days
when sushi was a
rare and precious
treat rather than
a supermarket sta-
ple, the food was
certainly second-
ary to the rabid
Japanophilia that
surged through my veins. Although I
was probablydeeply, deeplyimpressed,
17 years later Imsimply bored. Neither
disgusted, nor delighted, just left
unmoved, and a little depressed, by the
bog-standard, mass-catered, bog-aver-
age feel of pretty much every bite.
Because, when it comes to nigiri
sushi and sashimi, average just aint
good enough. Theres either good, or
dont bother. Ill spare you the over-
romanticised paeans to the art of the
true sushi chef. The decades of training
neededto simply mutter fish, let alone
slice it; the importance, in nigiri sushi,
of the rice; the astronomical prices paid
by the best sushi joints for the very fin-
est, freshest cuts. But you dont go to
Yo! Sushi expecting the sort of raw
fish that made Mr
Jiro dream. And
to be fair, the nigiri
rice is fine warm,
with a whisper of
vinegar, and not
overcooked.
The salmon,
according to the
website, is happy. Im not. Its floppy
andwanandwarm. Not cloyingly fatty,
like the very sorriest specimen, but
a long way from happy. The cooked
prawn nigiri sushi are cold and over-
cooked, but again, not offensive. And if
you like sushi rolls, which I dont, they
wont frighten the geegees. As for the
rest, well, theres a curious absence of
pork on the menu. The Japanese love
their pork and do wonderful things
with it. I love it too. But here, not even
an oink, which means that chicken
takes the role of pig. Gyozas arent
bad theyre crisp and properly fried
(although real gyoza should be cooked
in a pan, not deep fryer), but the filling
is under-seasoned, A steamed bun is
stuffed with duck in a Chinese Hoisin
sauce wrong country, but it does, at
least, register on the taste buds.
Unlike pretty much everything else.
Because here, they take Japanese com-
fort food, katsu (breaded and fried
meat), for example, or karaage (deep-
fried chicken bits) and demean it to
the level of a supermarket ready meal.
Which means that the yakisoba noo-
dles taste the same as the firecracker
rice. Seasoned by corporate corner
cutting and heartless mass catering.
Chicken katsu is dry and sullen. It
has all the charm of bird flu. Karaage
manages to have batter that is both
overcooked and chewy. Some feat. It
would be slow-handclapped out of
FOOD DRINK
KFC. Popcorn tempura shrimp is
an insult to popcorn everywhere.
And the batter is soggy and sad
and deeply depressing. Nothing
is genuinely offensive. Well, save
the beef tsukune, which look like
the GIFT?? of a small dog. They
have the tang of a fairground beef
burger, circa 1978.
Then theres the service. Or
rather lack of it. I realise the
conveyor belt cuts down on the
need for front of house, but with
an entire section of the menu
only available by ordering from
a person with blood, rather than
oil, pumping through their veins,
you would have thought they
could employ more than one per-
son. Saying that, he was a valiant
general manager who not only
greets the punters, and answers
the phone, and takes orders, and
tots up your bill, but occasionally
jumps into the middle and makes
sushi. Hes easily the best thing
about the restaurant.
So there we go, a triumph
of the utterly, depressingly
average, dressed up in J-Pop
gear. Everything is fresh and
clean and stupefyingly inoffen-
sive. But are our palates so cal-
cified by the bland and mediocre
that we no longer care? Am I
alone in being offended by this
joyless, half-assed excuse of a
lunch? The place was packed, so
perhaps I am.
But after watching those
prawns revolve for the sixthtime,
my friend Bill has had enough.
Come on, he says with a shrug.
Enough of this nonsense. Lets
go for lunch.
Lunch for two, minus drinks: 30
Bland, mediocre and utterly joyless
stop the conveyor belt, I want to get off
FOOD
HERO
BALACHAUNG
Driedshrimp, withonions, chilli and
shrimppaste, deepfrieduntil crispand
golden, thenshoweredliberallyacross
stirfries, soups, curries, saladsandpretty
mucheverythingelse. Balachaung(dry)
aclassicBurmesecondiment isoneof
themost addictivethingsIveevereaten.
It addsinstant umami crunchto
anythingit touches.
Wonderful stuff.
WHAT T OM AT E T HI S WEEK
TUESDAY
Hello5:2diet, goodbye
joy. Actually, feelingalittle
tender after anight at
MatthewForts. Soalittle
restraints nobadthing.
Morechickeninlettuce.
Another early night.
WEDNESDAY
ToBarrafinaCovent Garden.
Crabcroquetas, crisp
chipirones, acoupleof
oyster ceviche, ahunk
of stunningbrill cooked
intheJosper, anda
glass of their house
sherry. Sublime.
THURSDAY
Ohdear. Back
toBarrafina
Covent
Garden.
Was wanderingby, bumped
intoEddie, oneof the
owners, andheaskedme
in. Chickenwings withmojo
piconandfrit mallorquin
(lungs andheart andliver).
My judgement couldbe
skewed, as hepaid. But I
thinknot.
FRI DAY
My cousins
TOM PARKER
BOWLES
TOMS TABLE
Yo! Sushi
52PolandStreet, LondonW1F7NQ
02072870443, [Link]

FROM THE MENU

MISO SOUP 2.20
CHICKEN KARAAGE 3.60
DUCK GYOZA 4.10
KATSU SELECTION 5
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I
t may have a name that
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prices onsomethingof acharm
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bal dominance of Thriller.
Vermentino always lurks
behind Pinot Grigio, but in its
ownright its a gently aromatic
white that can be as scented as
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already a fan of unoaked fresh
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your shopping list.
Part of Vermentinos prob-
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From its native Italy, places
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and even Lebanon and Brasil
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into our wine glasses.
The fact is, Vermentino
has been in the UK shops
for some time, with decent
bottles such as Waitrose Cte
Mas Vermentino 2013 (13%)
for 8.49 offering scrumptious
bright refreshment without
sharpness. But with Aldis
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shelves, Im convinced more
of us will give it a whirl.
For me, theres no doubt this
delicious grape could have
a huge future, depending on
how many of us agree that
most bottles of Vermentino
have more character in a sin-
gle sip than the lapping oceans
of rather watery Pinot Grigio
washing around the world.
And some will no doubt be
inspired to further explore
and taste the world of
Vermentino. But for now,
with a fantastic bottle avail-
able on Britains shelves for
under a fiver, dont stoptil you
get enough.
Hear Olly sitting in for Clare
Balding on BBCRadio 2s Good
Morning Sunday from 7am on
August 31 and September 7.
birthday dinner at
ChilternFirehouse. A
fewgoodfriends, some
steaktartareanda
magnumof aseriously
goodAustrianred.
Agreatbig
No!Sushi
8.99
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