Restaurants: Bye, Hi Sushi!

We realized last night that we hadn’t been out for sushi for over a year due to Heidi’s pregnancy and our move to London, and we determined immediately to put an end to that.  I wish we hadn’t.

For us, finding decent sushi at reasonable prices is one of the great joys of dining out.  Back when we were courting, Heidi and I often made a point of catching the happy hour special at Paradise in Hermosa Beach; I still yearn for their Rock ‘n Roll.[1]  And, of course, it was at his first sushi all-you-can-eat night that John Binford famously pronounced, “How can I know if I’m full if I don’t know what the hell I’ve eaten?”

First Impressions

Hi Sushi on Hampstead High Street

So it was with a great deal of hope last night that we visited the Hampstead location of Hi Sushi, which operates seven restaurants in London, for their all-you-can-eat buffet. The space was small but inviting, with bright white lighting and walls, light natural wood floors, frosted glass or laminate tables, and brightly colored cushions.  It is divided into three sections, with normal booth seating in the front and rear sections, and in-floor seating in the middle.  By “in-floor seating,” I mean exactly that—the floor has been raised and holes have been cut to accommodate the tables. Patrons sit around the tables on cushions set on the floor, with their legs beneath.  (See photo below.) This gives the visual impression of diners seated, Japanese style, on the floor, but is more comfortable for westerners accustomed to chairs.  Getting into the seat, however, is still a bit awkward for big fat guys like me.

The Service

We were four (three adults and baby Jack) and had not booked a table (travel tip: always book ahead at a London restaurant, if possible!), but they quickly found space for us at a shared, in-floor table. Score one for the service. But while Lucinda, Jack and Heidi took their seats, I was sorting the pram outside, and when I went to join them I was brusquely challenged by a small, sphinx-like woman garbed in black—one of the staff, I later discovered—who demanded to know whether I had reserved a table. I will say only that it is possible to make this inquiry politely, and that perhaps sphinx-woman might try harder in that regard.



The "in-floor" seating at Hi Sushi

Having passed the gatekeeper, I sort of half-slid, half-rolled into my seat to have three tacky laminated food menus (and a rather sparse drinks menu) tossed onto the table in front of me. This was a persistent problem throughout the evening.  Because the tables were so low to the floor, the staff is forced to bend down or squat to reach the table top.  This is particularly difficult when carrying armloads of plated food, resulting in the staff pretty much dropping or tossing things onto the table rather than placing them gently down.  The couple sharing our table, for example, saw their long-awaited, carefully arranged platter of sushi scattered when the server put the it down edge-on and then let it drop clattering to the table top. I swear one of the salmon rolls executed a perfect Fosbury Flop into the soy sauce.

We glanced at the menus and quickly put them down, because they said nothing about the all-you-can-eat buffet. We waited (and waited, and waited) for our server to return; when she did and we explained that we wanted the buffet, she reacted (in Lucinda’s words) as though we were second-class citizens.  Which was quite odd, as everyone in the entire restaurant was having the buffet.  In any event, she took our drink order and promised to return to explain the buffet, which (eventually) she did.

An aside about the English use of the word "buffet": As far as I can tell, it does not denote here that you're going to grab a plate and serve yourself from a bunch of chafing dishes. Both "buffets" we have been to in England involved traditional table service. The only difference from a regular restaurant meal was that the menu was limited and (theoretically) we could get more food if we wanted it without paying more money. But more on that below.

The many all-you-can-eat sushi nights that we’ve been to in L.A. have all had a consistent, simple structure: You pay a set fee per person, and you can order as much sushi as you want for a fixed period  of time, usually 90 to 120 minutes.  Drinks and a la carte items are extra, and if you order a bunch of sushi you don’t eat, you might get hit with a small surcharge.

In contrast, the buffet at Hi Sushi is governed by a complex and arcane set of rules, and by the time our server finished explaining them to me, I was glad for my legal education and 20 years of experience—particularly as our server lost patience with explaining the rules to the entire table, so she charged me to explain them to Heidi and Lucinda.

Anyway, if I understood correctly, the rules go something like this:

You pay £16 (about $25) per person, plus service charge, and you get two lists.

List #1 contains about a dozen items of hot food (tempuras, teriyakis, spring rolls, etc.). The table can order up to 7 items of hot food, but you only get one shot at it—you don’t get second portions of anything, and you can’t place a second order to get items that you missed out on the first time around. So, I was cautioned, consider carefully whether you want the chicken teriyaki or the chicken katsu, because there’s no going back once you've made your choice.

Our List #2, with the unfulfilled second sushi order

List #2 contains sashimi, nigiri sushi, and rolls. The table can only order 5 of these items at a time, but you might get a second shot at it, because you can order 10 of the items up to 3 times. The other 8 items (the "Extra Bonus" items) can only be ordered once, but unlike the hot food, they don’t have to be ordered in the first go—you can order additional previously unordered single order items in your second order or third order. (Did ya get that?)

And apparently there’s a time limit, too, but the server didn’t really explain that part.

So we place our orders and they promptly bring out some miso soup and, a bit later, some edamame (both off our hot food list), and then the server comes to tell us that because they’re so busy our sushi order is going to be delayed 30 minutes.

We look around. The place isn’t that busy.

So about 4 minutes later, they brought out the entire sushi order.

And that was pretty much the last time we saw our server. We prepared a second sushi order—Heidi calculated that the meal would only be an accetable value if we ordered at least  four more items, some of which had to be sashimi—but no one came to take the order, and we were sufficiently indifferent to eating more indifferent food (see below) that flagging down a bus boy of the speeding bus boys seemed more effort than it was worth.

The Food

The food was not terrible. But at these prices, "not terrible" is not nearly good enough.

The hot items we ordered were, without exception, mediocre to poor. I have had far better food at the Mitsuwa supermarket food court for less than half the price. The miso soup lacked the rich umami flavor and mouthfeel that is the whole point of miso soup; the chicken katsu was dry and the katsu sauce unremarkable; the chicken teriyaki was bland and a bit stringy. The Japanese spring rolls were decent, with a crisp exterior and hot, crunchy vegetables inside.

The sushi was somewhat better than the hot food, but it was not good value.  The fish was fresh enough and the rolls were well constructed with fresh ingredients, but neither the negiri nor the rolls were especially flavorful.  The nicely textured seabass negiri was perhaps the best of a mediocre lot. Heidi thought the undisclosed use of imitation crab in the California rolls was a major negative; I cannot really complain about that, as the classic California roll has always used imitation crab.

The Beer

Finally, a note about the beer.  As far as I’m concerned, the highest and best use of a Japanese light lager is to accompany sushi.  Last night, I drank Asahi and Heidi drank Kirin.  The beers were £3.50 for 333 ml (12 oz.).  That’s pretty expensive, but I might pay £3.50 for a good Japanese beer to accompany a good meal.

Note that I said Japanese—if you have ever had a Japanese light lager from Japan, you will know that they taste different than the licensed products widely available in the United States and, it turns out, in the U.K.  The Japanese versions (or so I am informed) are slightly higher gravity and higher alcohol, and to my palate taste richer and maltier than the licensed products.

The “Asahi” I had last night was brewed not by Asahi in Japan, but by Shepherd Neame in Kent. The “Kirin” Heidi had was, in fact, brewed by Heineken in Edinburgh. I can tell you unequivocally that I would not pay £3.50 in a pub for a 20 oz. pint of any Shepherd Neame or Heineken beer.  I see no reason why I should pay £3.50 for a 12 oz bottle in a restaurant.  Again, not good value.

So, bye, Hi Sushi. You weren’t the worst I ever had, but there’s no reason to give it another go.

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[1] Don’t consider that a recommendation—Paradise has fallen far and hard over the years. Based on the visible lack of basic hygiene when last I was there, they should probably change the name from “Paradise Sushi” to “Paradise Now”.

Exploring Hampstead: The Crofts--Ferncroft Avenue

Ferncroft Avenue

Ferncroft Avenue is the longest of the three ‘Croft avenues, running southeast for approximately one third of a mile from Platt’s Lane to Heath Street (incorrectly shown on Google Maps as “Redington Gardens”). West of Hollycroft Avenue, Ferncroft rises gently; to the east, it drops sharply down from Croft Way to Kidderpore Gardens, then levels out to finish its course.

Five of the houses in Ferncroft are Grade II listed. All were designed by Quennell: Nos. 6-8 (1901), 12-14 (1901-02), 26-26a (1898), 33-35 (1902), and 40-42 (1904).  The first two—Nos. 6-8 and 12-14—are toward the Platt’s Lane end of the avenue, and are similar to the Quennell designs we saw in Hollycroft Avenue.  No. 12-14 (below) is the more interesting of the two.

No. 12-14 Ferncroft Ave.

No. 26-26a is a bit different. No. 26 is a stately asymmetrical design, with a tile-hung first floor and a cast-iron and glass hood over the column-framed entrance bay.  No. 26a (not pictured) is a former coach house, converted to a charming living space.

No. 26 Ferncroft Ave.

No. 33-35 is the most distinctive of the Ferncroft houses.  Although symmetrical, Quennel used an aggressive tile pattern and gabled windows, both unusual for the area.  The overall effect, as Heidi says, is that of a tall, elegant gingerbread house.

No. 35 Ferncroft Ave.

At the Heath Drive end of the avenue, No. 40-42 is only subtly asymmetrical.  I particularly like the tripartite dormer window in the roof of No. 42 (to the right), which would seem to me to create a wonderful little office or studio space.

Nos. 40-42 Ferncroft Ave.

Finally, I leave you with a photo of one of my favorite houses in The Crofts, No. 1 Rosecroft Avenue. I did not include this house in my discussion of Rosecroft because it is not listed and I know almost nothing about it. I have discovered that artist Gerald Scarfe lived here in the 1960s.  If you read The New Yorker or have seen the film Pink Floyd’s The Wall, you will recognize his work.  I have heard unverified rumours that Ralph Miliband -- prominent Marxist and father of politicians David and Ed -- lived here in 1959-1960.  I also know (from personal observation) that one of the current occupants drives a Bentley that he or she typically parks, uncovered, on the street, and that the gate of No. 1 is Jazz's favorite place to mark his territory.

No. 1 Rosecroft Ave.



For references, please see Part 1 here.

Exploring Hampstead: The Crofts--Hollycroft Avenue

Fig. 1: Hollycroft Ave.

Hollycroft Avenue runs uphill and southeast from Platt’s Lane to Rosecroft Avenue, then turns downhill and sharply to the south, where it terminates at Ferncroft Avenue (Fig. 1).



Fig. 2: Woodstock House at No. 5 Hollycroft



At the Platt’s Lane end, many of the houses have retained molded panels bearing the fanciful names of the houses. These include St. Aubyn, St. Goar, Woodstock, Ravenscourt, Hollycroft Lodge, and the three denes: Dene Wood, Holly Dene and Heatherdene.[1]  Interestingly, the panels on the east side of the street are more intricately decorated and placed over the door (Fig. 2), whereas on the west side of the street they are relatively plain and placed beside the door (Fig. 3).



Fig. 3: Heatherdene House at No. 14 Hollycroft



The house at No. 6 has no molded panel—instead, its owners have isntalled frosted glass in and beside the entry door that bears pithy quotations from such diverse sources as Mary Poppins, Spike Milligan, Ray Davies and Woody Allen.  Most prominent are the words scribed by Christopher Robin for Owl to post on his door: “PLES RING IF AN RNSER IS REQIRD. PLEZ CNOKE IF AN RNSR IS NOT REQID.” Unfortunately, the glass is impossible to photograph unobtrusively so that the quotations are legible.

On the Ferncroft Avenue end of the street, two adjacent semi-detached houses, Nos. 43 to 49, are Grade II listed.  Both were designed by Quennell and finished in 1905. Nos. 43-45 are notable for their herringbone brickwork (Fig. 4); Nos. 47-49 for their brick modillions.

Fig. 4: Nos. 43-45 Hollycroft




Fig. 5: No. 46 Hollycroft

   Across the street, the unlisted house at No. 46 (Fig. 5) also is interesting. It is a fully detached home, completed in 1907 and designed by architect Sir Guy Dawber. The current owners, however—who purchased the home in 2009 for £3.38 million—found the house “under scaled and with poky rooms.”  Accordingly, they are extending the house in three directions, including down.[2] The photograph shows scaffolding covering the south side of the house, where it appears the entire ground floor wall has been removed.

Next up, Ferncroft Avenue and its two gingerbread houses.

For references, see Part 1 here.

[1] A “dene” in a British place name refers to “a vale, especially the deep, narrow, wooded valley of a small river.” ["dene". Oxford Dictionaries. April 2010. Oxford University Press. 10 January 2011 <http://oxforddictionaries.com/view/entry/m_en_us1239410?rskey=vUGBjI&result=2>.]

[2] The plans for the renovation are available on the architect’s website here. Enter the site, select “Currently in Design,” and choose “Hollycroft Avenue.”

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Out & About: Highgate Cemetery (East)

Today was a magnificent Sunday, so we decided to spend it with some of our favorite dead:



You can access the full-sized photos by clicking here.

Exlporing Hampstead: The Crofts--Rosecroft Avenue

We try to spend Saturdays and holidays out and about, exploring new parts of London.  This past Christmas, however, illness kept us housebound, wondering how sick we would let ourselves become before surrendering to the evils of socialized medicine.[1] God had mercy, however; He inflicted needless suffering upon us for only a week or so.  Jazz was not so kind.  He insisted on going out to urinate three or four times a day, no matter how poorly we felt.  So we used Jazz’s walks to explore in greater depth our immediate neighborhood, known to local estate agents as “the desirable Crofts area of Hampstead.”

Orientation



Fig. 1 - Hampstead relative to Parliament

Hampstead is six miles north-by-northwest of the Houses of Parliament (Fig. 1), and four miles directly north of Hyde Park.  The village and Heath sit atop the Northern Heights of London, a group of hills left by retreating glaciers after the last ice age.  At 440’ above sea level, the north end of the Heath is the highest point in London’s inner boroughs.  This is why, as Lucinda frequently complains, the walk into the village is uphill both ways.

The Crofts are comprised of three streets near the western edge of the Heath: Ferncroft Avenue, Hollycroft Avenue, and our own, Rosecroft Avenue (Fig. 2).  A “croft” is a small farm or field; the word is a Scottish derivation from an Old English word meaning “hill.”[2] “The Crofts” is therefore a particularly fitting moniker for this area, which lies on the western slope of Child’s Hill, on land that was part of Platt’s Farm until the mid-1890s.[3]

Fig. 2 - The Crofts relative to Hampstead Village

The three ‘Croft avenues were laid out in 1896 by a developer named George Hart; most of the homes were designed by architect C.H.B. Quennell.  According to one commentator, these red-brick mansions were intended for “the lower middle class residents of Hampstead.”  Today, those homes are worth £3 million to £5 million, and flats in subdivided conversions sell for more than £1 million.[4]  The current global financial crisis has had almost no effect on property prices here, and based on the startling amount of residential remodeling going on, one wonders whether residents of The Crofts are even aware that the world is in financial turmoil.

Rosecroft Avenue

No. 17

Rosecroft Avenue is the smallest of the ‘Croft avenues and was the first to be laid out.  It curves gently downhill and southeast-to-south, a mere 200 yards, joining Platt’s Lane where the Platt’s Farm manor house once stood and terminating at the top middle of arching Hollycroft Avenue.

Three of the houses on Rosecroft are Grade II listed buildings, Nos. 17, 18 and 20. All three were designed by Quennell. No. 17 was completed in 1899 and is notable for the unusual classical plaster reliefs of female figures on the exterior first floor (second floor, for you Americans), modeled by artist Benjamin Lloyd.

No. 18

Across the street, No. 18 was completed in 1898; the date is prominently displayed (along with some naked nymphs) in plaster reliefs in the eaves, also by Benjamin Lloyd.  Next door, No. 20 is one of several houses to bear the name Croft House; completed in 1898, it lacks the sculpted reliefs of Nos. 17 and 18, but has a beautiful symmetrical design with a recessed entrance bay.


Next up, Hollycroft Avenue, wherein resides Winnie-the-Pooh’s friend, Owl.

No. 20

References:

Wade, The Streets of Hampstead (3d ed. 1999)

Wade, Hampstead Past (1989)

Denford, The Hampstead Book: A-Z of its history and people (2009)
"Hampstead: Childs Hill," A History of the County of Middlesex: Volume 9: Hampstead, Paddington (1989), pp. 73-75. URL: http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=22643 Date accessed: 8 January 2011. >


[1] Heidi refuses to accept that, under the U.K.’s barbaric healthcare system, Jack’s well-baby visits might have to be with a G.P. rather than a specialist pediatrician. The horror! Imagine the exotic strains of diaper rash a G.P. might be unable to diagnose.

[2] "croft." Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 10th Edition. HarperCollins Publishers. 08 Jan. 2011. <Dictionary.com http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/croft>.

[3] As an interesting aside, all three ‘Croft avenues intersect with Platt’s Lane, named for the owner of Platt’s Farm. Platt’s Lane formerly was known as Devil’s Lane, a corruption of Duval’s Lane, after the notorious 17^th Century highwayman Claude Duval.

[4] For example, the ground floor flat in our building sold last September for £1.27 million.

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