All right boys and girls, buckle yourselves in for a story and a half!
After reading several good reviews about this place and feeling like we deserved a date night I took my husband to this place which brings shame to Japanese food. If I could march the manager through Acland Street ringing a massive bell screaming "SHAME" intermittently, it would not even come close to the awfulness of this evening.
We sat down and had our order taken at 8:15. Drink arrived promptly, followed shortly after by a dish of onions and salt with chopped spring onions and four bites of soft shell crab which managed to leak out more oil than the Exxon oil spill. Seriously; a couple of seals and at least 5 penguins could have drowned in my mouth.
After 20 minutes and some frantic glancing around at diners who had arrived after us and had received their food and watching them eat it, my scallops arrived. Warm shells, with cold hard parmesan cheese which had hardened as it had most likely been sitting on the counter since before the price of Bitcoin reached three dollars. Drowned in warm yellow salt sauce (which required two glasses of water, no less) which somehow managed to taste exactly like béarnaise, were little cold scallops, which made me message my colleague to anticipate my absence from work tomorrow due to the food poisoning I am likely to receive later this evening. Simultaneously tasting both raw and inedible, it made me consider whether I was supposed to be eating the shells, as they appeared to the only thing that had been "flame grilled".
Wagyu beef gyoza would have made sense if it had not come with a ridiculous smothering of more sodium; each bite making us wish that we had stayed home and microwaved our goldfish and drowned them in soy sauce and however much salt they use for the local swimming pool.
Once that dish was finished we were left questioning the arrogance of the person who decided that $22 was an appropriate price for 6 dumplings in Melbourne. I suppose we have to spend all of our money before we die from sodium poisoning.
But to hurry us along to an early grave, the tuna tataki arrived with the salt usually reserved for flotation therapy tanks. Tuna chunks which look like they'd fallen off a burns victim sitting above shaved daikon obliterated with more of this salt concentrate which was supposedly miso.
So now we wait for the remainder of the food to arrive with my husband informing me that the odds were ever in my favour as this night had now turned into the Hunger Games, and I may actually have to consume one of the aforementioned penguins in St Kilda Beach. At this point the sun had set and it was past 9PM and we had begun a discussion as to what song from my iPhone to set as my alarm for 9:15PM to celebrate the first hour at this God forsaken place which probably should have been marked by a cannon. We watched diners who had arrived after us, pay for their meal that they had finished while we were still waiting for two more dishes to be served and contemplated going over and eating what they had left behind.
At this point we flagged down a waitress to ask where the rest of our salt, sorry, dishes were. She informed us that she would check with the kitchen and we considered where we should eat for our actual dinner or whether we should drive down to Coles and buy bottled water by the pallet. Miraculously our two slabs of eggplant arrived, soaked in more sodium and resulting in my wishing that I could have tried and voluntarily failed to import heroin into Indonesia to get this taste out of my mouth.
We asked the waitress why we were still waiting for our dragon rolls an hour after to which she explained that the kitchen times the food to arrive one after the other so that we can enjoy our food, which was true for the other diners who were probably at home writing semi decent reviews, but not for us. She went to check with her manager at which point I had given up and refused to volunteer for tribute in this absurd Battle Royale starvation game where they feed you salt until you collapse, twitching on the ground and collapse into dust from dehydration.
Went to the counter to pay as I had thoroughly given up at this point. The hostess had offered us a 10% discount on our food as I was thoroughly contemplating whether to set this place on fire, if only to heat up the scallops for the other diners and I asked to speak to the manager. The manager came out and decided to glare at us because we had interrupted him from his study of how to make sure that diners do not return, and his in depth thesis of how customer service and empathy is anathema to him. He informed me in his French accent that he would only be able to give us 10% off our bill of $113, which did not even cover my one drink and he was sorry that it took the kitchen over an hour to make our food, in a restaurant that was less than a third full.
TL;DR? Go to a pet store. Buy a goldfish. Microwave it and eat it. Do not come here. read more