Imagine paradise. Imagine it as a place on a map. In your mind, drop a pin there... then start…read morewalking. Walk away from it as far as you possibly can in the universe you've just created. Then drop another pin. That pin is as far away from perfect as you can get... that pin, if you will, is hell.
Now, again imagine you tap that pin. Yes... you guessed it. That pin is Yo Sushi at the Trafford Center.
Only worse... because going to hell at least has a sense of justice to it. You end up in hell because you did something.
I ended up in Yo Sushi, the real incarnation of hell, because my kids wanted to go there. That seems like a harsh punishment.
What makes it hell is that in no way does it live up to any of its promises. This is meant to be luxury, exotic, flavoursome... frankly Yo Sushi should have a licence from the FCA to arrange personal loans and mortgages to pay the bill. Their food is so expensive that it is perfectly reasonable to expect it to cure cancer, reverse male pattern baldness, or serve as the world heavyweight champion of aphrodisiacs...
But instead, what you get is to wait in a long queue in a shop that's too hot for it to be good for anyone - another way it is very much like hell. You are sat in grubby, dirty, dilapidated surroundings, and even though I came with small children, you are sat at a bar that in no way lends itself to supervising kids.
To the best of my knowledge there is no way to summon waiting staff - I understood they did not use the app and had to be summoned. Only I assume they had to be summoned by telephone, by email, even perhaps by telepathy, because none were around to be summoned by more traditional means.
Finally, when my seven year old had got sick of waiting, he went to find one, in a moment I found out about a split second too late, because he was next to me at a bar, not in front of me at a table.
When the server was to be found, she knew about as much about the menu as I do about open heart surgery (read: I am not a cardio thoracic surgeon). Couldn't guide me through the dishes, couldn't tell me how the menu had changed, couldn't suggest any alternatives. It was, almost exactly, like talking to a hand puppet. Only hand puppets are fun. This was like putting a knitting needle into my ear.
So, with my kids having eaten four plates alone. Four small plates. With pennies worth of food on them, I got sick of the shoddy experience, baulked at the idea of having my pocket picked to be treated like.a simpleton and left. The cost for those four plates? A few pence shy of £18.
So in short - I would not recommend this food venue to anyone - unless I bitterly hated them, because I'd caught them in bed with my wife, after driving my car, and having ingratiated themselves to my friends. Then and only then could I loathe someone enough to recommend eating at this establishment.
For less dramatic occasions - give it a dramatic swerve. Your bank manager and your sensibilities will thank you.