William Sitwell reviews Evernight, London: ‘An intriguing, complex, thought-provoking place’
The last izakaya I went to was in Tokyo. It was run by a Brit who was fairly ensconced in Japanese culture and language, especially since he had married a Japanese woman. He recalled that shortly after the wedding he shared an onsen (a hot-spring bath) with his new father-in-law and his buddies following a game of golf. ‘So,’ said the father-in-law as they settled into the frothy water, ‘have you found yourself a mistress yet?’
An arresting question on many levels. Taking a seat at another izakaya some 20 years later, I wonder how that Brit is getting on. His izakaya, which is sort of a Japanese pub, was a place of informal character and noise and age. Evernight is a rather sleeker, tidier, quieter and more modern version.
You’ll find it deep in London’s new Nine Elms development, a stone’s throw from a glass-bottomed swimming pool, suspended 115 feet up, whose blueish light casts a glow on the dark streets surrounding the American Embassy (I strongly approve of this swanky enclave demurring to dim lighting rather than the bright lights some lunatic councils seem to think suit quaint rural villages).
And off the dark street is the clean, crisp, right-angled (from the tables to the large lampshades) Evernight. There are some 15 dishes on offer, the idea being to plunge in and share, and there are barely two or three that don’t have you asking Google for a translation.
Which is maybe an insulting and stupid thing to say, because if one opened a British pub in Tokyo, the natives might similarly be wondering what ‘shepherd’s’, ‘in a basket’, ‘pie’, ‘mushy’, ‘custard’ and ‘crumble’ meant.
But there’s dextrous technique on display at Evernight and, happily settling in with a sake, I sensibly wrote some notes. So I can proudly tell you that across the menu a variety of dishes are frozen, crushed, dipped, sliced, fermented and rolled in charcoal.
Though, frankly, I was having far too much fun to remember what exactly was done to which thing and when. And I reckon that’s a good thing, because if I were to tell you it would be like, in the good old days, having a friend show you their holiday snaps. When all you want to know is: where is it, how much was it, did you enjoy it and would you go back?
A first taste of oyster with black mirin ponzu was a gentle intro, an intriguing mouthful of sweet vinegary umami (that’s what ponzu does, you know – everything – as it combines sweet, sour and salty), and then some octopus (takowasa) that came with tart pickled cucumber, a clever reminder that octopus is naturally sweet.
Then a refreshing plate of sashimi: red mullet (plain and tough in texture) and slices of sweet and briny monkfish liver. It’s a dish that could be a little gloomy on its own – being neither overtly nor richly delicious – and yet it’s perfect
in the mix.
The dish of the night was cuttlefish and kabu noodles topped with caviar; the textures of the creamy seafood and noodles merging together to become a sort of utterly magnificent, write-home-and-tell-your-parents carbonara.
Also striking were the sweet and charcoal-blackened tsukune meatballs, served with fermented egg, though the world’s most exhaustingly complicated apple tarte tatin was not as dreamily good as the original French version.
Evernight is an intriguing, complex and thought-provoking place which, after considerable pondering – as with that father-in-law issue – I’m unable to offer up anything but great respect for. And yes, I’d go back.
