Year of Eating Differently (92): Satsuma, Wardour Street

Ten years ago, this seemed a contender to Wagamama; noodles, a series of wooden benches where you sat facing your dinnertime companion, a similar minimally-laid out menu. These days, less so. While Wagamama has grown into a behemoth, there are few Satsumas around. On the positive side, this allows them to retain a staff of other-worldly beings; in this case a couple of random Scandinavian servers (Caira and Anders) and some Japanese people.
Furthermore, you get more on the menu. It costs more too, but it's good to get a bento in London. I was pretty much stuffed after I'd eaten all of this:

On the downside, you don't get any citrus fruit after you've finished your meal. But to be fair, the place is more likely to be named after the province in Kagoshima. But that's just a guess. Maybe there's a huge pile of fruit out back somewhere.

Year of Eating Differently (89): Ran, Great Marlborough Street

Perhaps it's masochism, intransigence or me being just plain wilful, but whenever we go out for a Business Lunch, it's always somewhere new (to support this project) and it's also always somewhere that ends up being fairly unsuitable for a vegetarian. Almost without exception we end up in somewhere Korean/Japanese/Thai/Chinese where they've refined eating meat to an art form. Ran even has the somewhat intimidating rubric on the bottom of each page of the menu: "All items can be requested in a vegetarian version. A 12.5% service charge will be added to your bill". This suggests they're fining the vegetarians for being awkward (fair enough) but we couldn't fathom out how they'd do you a vegetarian sirloin steak.
Never mind this bafflement. The menu is in English, Korean and Japanese, so I get to read a few katakana and realise I don't know what the kanji for 'chicken' is. So I feel a bit dumb. But what else is new? We had to push the waitress a little before I got any miso soup, but aside from that service was pretty good. That said, how could service be bad? Nobody told me erroneously that my order was far too big, there wasn't any beef accidentally stirred into my bibimbat, didn't get into a fight with any members of staff - I suppose a satisfactory experience is mainly marked by absence.
Steak and fish both looked very good and got approval from my compadres at this event, but perhaps the highlight (and this isn't to denigrate the rest of the repast) was the rather intricately prepared after-meal oranges.

Anybody who has some seed capital for my new venture, providing pre-cut citrus fruit for railway waiting rooms, post offices and local government offices should contact me at the usual address.

Year of Eating Differently (68): Geisya, Dean Street

This is more like it. Went to the South Bank last night and saw the Kneehigh Theatre put on a production of Rapunzel, which was very good, but like all pantomime about ten minutes too long. I think the Jenny liked it, although being American and not having a tradition of being dragged to the panto, probably hard for her to contextualise it. Anyway, after that strolled off to dinner, and had a woeful time at Wagamama's; weak miso soup, noodles that seemed to be in an arrabiata sauce - yeuch.
So today when an friend from out of town turned up and said she wouldn't mind Japanese, I was stoked, because I've been walking past Geisya for a while. Went in there (after getting lost and walking up and down Frith and Greek Streets instead) and disconcertingly we were the only diners - so it was us and the nervous waiter, plus a plasma screen with the Christmas Number Ones for the last 20 years playing. Thus, ambience scores about nil.

Food was great though - I think this is properly Japanese run, because the miso soup actually tasted of miso for a change, and the tempura was light and crunchy, rather than the soggy mess that Soba presented me with. My friend had sushi and apparently the fish was "like butter" - or poisson comme buerre, I suppose? Maybe I should have paid more attention in GCSE French.
Anyhow, the waiter was incredibly nervous, and I think Japanese (the handwriting gives it away, plus the terrible feeling of guilt I had when he had to come back and apologise for my first choice of meal being off) and then there's the qualm of whether you should tip or if that's actually a real faux-pas (it is in Japan, but if you're in London, who knows?), but this is irrelevant when the food is up to scratch, so all in all, all good. Shame I can't go back for the rest of the year, but hey.

Year of Eating Differently (56): Abeno, Museum Street

Headed east in search of okonomi-yaki today. This may have been slightly ill-advised; last night I left the office at 6 and then ran to Vernon Square, before doing two hours of shorinji kempo - one of those tough sessions where by the end of it you go down to the floor and then can't bring yourself to get back up again. Possibly it was the ten minutes of battering pads continuously that did for me, but today my legs feel screwed and I just want to sleep.
It's not a good look to pass out at your desk, so at 12 I nipped down to our faithful newsagent and bought some Frazzles - unfortunately, if you've just had a packet of crisps, ordering miso soup and okonomi-yaki may not be the best decision.
Good stuff though - once you've ordered, the food comes back and gets fried on the hotplate in front of you (although this does mean that by the end of the meal you feel significantly overheated) - and the miso soup actually tasted like miso soup for a change, after the miserable examples from Abokado and Soba in recent weeks. Service was a teeny bit slow (5 minutes to attract attention and get the bill) and tofu isn't the most fun thing to eat (I was jealous of my companion's bacon, and think the Osaka-mix okonami-yaki might be a better bet for those carnivores amongst us) but at least it felt like a Japanese restaurant rather than some strange English approximation thereof.

Year of Eating Differently (55): Abokado, Newman Street

Miso soup - hmmph. Not strong enough. It was homemade though. That's what the factory-made container had written on it.
Also, a felafel wrap, which seems to have given me slight indigestion.
Whole place put me in a bad mood, but that may be because I'd just gone to the Post Office next door (to buy a stamp for a postcard to Donegal) and somehow the Post Office always makes me disgruntled. Otherwise, ok. Not really worth the long walk up there unless you were desperate to get away from Soho, I'd have to say.

Year of Eating Differently (43): Soba, Soho Street

Back from Japan and nostalgic for miso soup already, so a quick dash to Soba to get some takeaway - udon noodles in what appears to be a feeble attempt at miso (far too watery to taste of anything much at all), and some vegetable tempura. Frankly, the tempura is rubbish; tastes very greasy and not at all crispy; I suppose it may be unfair to compare a takeaway in London with the genuine article in Tokyo and Nagoya, but for goodness' sake, how hard can it be to do things right?