I'm sorry, but I'm not having it: sushi is not sexy. Perhaps, if it had some redeeming feature which didn't scream 'health food' I could warm to it, but as it is I'm struggling. I just can't muster the same desire for raw fish as I can for more decadent dishes, the same lust as I feel for a juicy, bloody rump steak with crisp salty chips and buttery béarnaise, or a garlicky plate of dauphinoise, swimming in double cream with lashings of sweet, golden brown Gruyère cheese on top. Sushi is a long way away from any of these artery-hardening delights: not content with merely being healthy, it has the barefaced cheek to be very proud of its' beneficial qualities. In fact, that's one of the main reasons it sells so well. One look at Itsu's website will tell you this. If you get beyond the mantra (why does a restaurant need a mantra?) 'health and happiness' you'll find a 4000 word essay detailing every ingredient they use and how ethically sound and good for you they all are, which is quite impressive in a teacher's pet sort of way.
Don't get me wrong, I like my greens. No matter how much I want to, I can't eat steak and cream every day. I do want to delay my inevitable heart attack until I'm at least 24 (not long now). So with this in mind, and the fact that I am still detoxing after a hedonistic week in my beloved Norwich, I am persuaded by a smug friend to give Itsu a try. We went for the flagship restaurant in Kensington, because it's supposed to be the best of the chain. Whilst I suspect that might just be Chelsea snobbishness, darling, I'm not in a rush to try all three of them to find out.
Obviously, as it's a June evening in London, it's pissing it down. This does little to help the resentment building inside me that I'm about to pay top dollar for some food that I don't actually want that much. But walking in is surprisingly soothing, and not just because it's good to be out of the rain. I like the nice clean lines, the low lights and the trendy little stools around the conveyor belt. Our waiter is perfectly pleasant, but treats us with too much respect. Come on mate, I know it's Chelsea but this is finger food, where's the banter? And again I have to remind myself that everyone else in the world takes sushi very seriously indeed. So we'd better get on with eating some of it.
Crab crystal rolls with green chilli dip are zesty and tasty but the crab itself is a bit under seasoned, which is a real shame. A Salmon tokiko roll is nice enough and the fish is clearly pretty fresh. So far, so sushi. But then a quaint little portion of seared beef with shallot sauce steps things up a gear – the beef is tender and flavoursome, and we love the sauce. My friend keeps it when her dish is taken away. OK, you've got my attention. I'm annoyed that she got the best plate so far, but not for long: tuna and salmon tartar was delicious, accompanied by a punchy basil and lemongrass sauce. Believe me when I say it was a bit fishy in all the right ways. Similarly, seared tuna with wasabi is divine – by this point it's clear that tuna (responsibly caught yellow fin, naturally) is the way to go, especially after a good-but-not-great seared salmon and wasabi peas, which lacks the necessary wasabi kick, although the salmon is joyously soft and the peas, again, taste fresh and healthy. It's at this point that I give in and admit that I'm impressed. Although I'm hardly a sushi expert, I can safely say that if you put the bland crap they sell in little plastic boxes in supermarkets at one end of the scale, and one of those places in Tokyo where the chef measures your mouth for precision at the other, this is closer to the tape measure than the Tesco. I finish with a crème brulée which looks hideously out of place going round with all the dainty bits of fish but which is weirdly good nonetheless. I've had better brulées but you could count them on one hand. Probably.
This brings me to my main point: eating all that sugar reminded me why I love eating in restaurants so much. I love the warm, alcoholic glow I feel after waddling out of somewhere with three courses worth of saturated fat making its' way through my intestines. I absolutely couldn't eat like that every single day but then I can't afford to eat out every day anyway, and when I do I don't want to give up one of my weekly treats. Sushi, I know now, can be delicious: it was in spurts at Itsu. But whilst I will grudgingly admit that it is more than just a health food, it will never clog up my heart in quite the right way to win a permanent place there.
