Yakitori at Junsei
As published on Luxuriate Life
A foodie is the worst sort of person to dine with. We wear our brazen orders like a medal, waving away anything that sounds sort of easy to eat. We think we’re adventurous and bold, yet this arrogance is an ignorance. By turning a blind eye to food’s simplest pleasures, we judge food on its dizzying complexities, rather than what it should be judged for; how damn good it is to eat.
I used to waitress in an Anglo-Japanese restaurant. I would fawn over steaming bowls of beef bulgogi and soft shell crab rolls. But yakitori - which translates to grilled chicken - barely got a look in.
Junsei, a yaktori restaurant based in Marylebone, showed me exactly what I’d been missing.
The Atmosphere
Dimmed, golden lights glow against the wooded interior, the sizzle of hot coals whispering in the air like a fresh batch of steam in a sauna. Whilst Junsei is no doubt glamorous, there’s something also homely about it. Perhaps it’s the aromas of freshly grilled chicken. Or perhaps it’s the incredibly friendly staff, who present you with a warm towel as soon as you’re sat. Either way, I feel relaxed, which is exactly how I want to be before devouring countless plates of food.
Junsei opened its doors 3 years ago, during the height of the pandemic. It was a feat for many restaurants to keep their doors afloat at this time, let alone build new ones from scratch, so the fact it’s still going strong is a clear testament to its quality.
Being the nosy diner I am, I sat at the bar, overlooking the Binchõtan charcoals. After being told these particular coals are crafted from Japanese oak and are renowned for their purity, I feel a strong sense of disdain for my own, regular BBQ. Our Chef practically danced with the embers, slapping sauces and shaking seasonings with precision and flow. And, whilst this is hot work, he seemed unbothered, frequently stopping to entertain my well-meaning, but likely tiresome, questions.
The Drinks
Junsei’s cocktail menu is rather on the small size, but this is irrelevant if quality stands over quantity. Which, in this case, it does. The recipes change every two weeks or so. This is good - it tells me there’s thought behind the cocktails.
And, though I am slightly perturbed when a Smurf-coloured cocktail arrives at the table, my doubts are quickly soothed by the silky, yuzu-flavoured foam that rests atop a thin layer of ice. Garish this cocktail may be, but its flavours are subtle, akin to a key lime pie.
A rose-coloured beverage also arrives, more bashful than its blue cousin. Infused with kimchee syrup, she’s a dark horse, and packs a punch alongside the salt foam that floats on top.
Junsei clearly gives thought to its wine and sake; the wonderful Rizwan (GM of Junsei) guided us through the wine list, recommending a pinot grigo/reisling blend, crisp, aromatic, and the perfect pairing for the Omakase I was about to tackle.
The Food
I’m a big fan of letting the chef choose my food. My indecisiveness can make me a troublesome diner, umming and arring over how I can mazimise my dining experience. The Omakase menu, which takes you on a yakitori train with a few extra tit bits, took all the pressure off me. It’s a hard life.
Thus began the experience. Plate after plate was served; wings, breast, heart, all received a loving dash on the coals, before finding their way onto my chopsticks.
Junsei don’t care if you’re squeamish. For them, the whole bird should be used. And, if you can get me to actually enjoy chicken’s heart, whilst supporting a zero waste policy, then I am a big supporter.
Each piece of chicken was grilled to perfection, soft, juicy and coated in their sweet, sticky homemade tare.
Fish also made a welcome appearance: tuna crudo, lavish with caviar, on crispy sushi rice opened our evening. Yuzu-dressed yellowtail, as fresh as you can find in central London, cleansed the palette.
Much to our delight, a steaming bowl of rice also arrived, topped with the silkiest wagyu strips I’ve tasted. An egg yolk was nestled in, making my usual dippy eggs and soldiers seem a little pathetic. Breakfast will never be the same.
To round off the feast, a little spoon of yuzu and grape granita was presented. Clearly, my hesitation about the size was picked up by Rizwan; ‘a palette cleanser,’ he announces with a wink. Fresh and light, my palette is sufficiently cleansed, ready for one last sinful dunking.
A creamy bowl of ricotta is the perfect end, studded with fresh fruit and sweetened with kuromitsu, a malty Japanese sugar syrup.
A La Carte
There are, of course, plenty of other delicious sounding dishes which I only wish I had room for. Lobster Salad with Caviar Mayo, Char Sui Pork and Beef Tongue? Daring - yes. Delicious, most definitely.
Next time, Junsei.
