Sushi theatre, a fried chicken with delusions of grandeur (justified), and a negroni gamble that paid off. Our writer eats his way around Asia without leaving Grosvenor Square
You clock the entrance before you clock the restaurant. Lucky Cat’s doorway on Grosvenor Square is dressed in flower blossom, and it is shamelessly Instagram-ready. I told myself I was above photographing it, then photographed it. Inside, the front of house greeted us, helped with our coats and walked us to our table, and the whole exchange had that rare quality of feeling looked after rather than processed.
The room takes its cues from the kissas of 1930s Tokyo and the drinking dens of old Shanghai, and it wears the theme lightly: low, flattering lighting, a proper hum of energy, and no sense whatsoever that anyone wants your table back. At the rear, chefs work the sushi bar in full view, all quiet precision and very sharp knives, with cured meats hung on display behind. It is dinner and a show, except the show is someone slicing yellowtail better than you will ever do anything.
Our waitress talked us through the menu and steered our first round. I started with a whiskey sour made with Wild Turkey 101 bourbon (£21), which is a whiskey sour with its shirt sleeves rolled up. My dining partner went for the negroni. I know, risky. She declared it perfect to get things going, and who am I to argue with a woman holding a negroni. For the braver, the signature Lucky Negroni has you rolling dice to determine your bespoke drink, which is either great fun or a lesson in probability, depending on your luck.
From the raw bar, we started with the wagyu nigiri (£18), which melts in the mouth so completely it feels less like eating and more like a magic trick. The yellowtail sashimi (£10) was perfectly sliced, and it is telling that this exquisitely simple dish is one the restaurant keeps on the menu permanently by popular demand. The salmon sashimi (£9) was rich in flavour, the kind that quietly reminds you what salmon is supposed to taste like. The fish here comes in from top suppliers in Japan and Spain, and it shows.
Then the middle order arrived and things got competitive. Kyoto cucumbers in a sesame dressing are, frankly, addictive; we ordered them as a palate cleanser and treated them like contraband. The soft shell crab salad (£18), with weeping tiger and ginger, brought crunch and heat in sensible proportions. The egg fried rice comes with a raw egg perched on top, which you slowly mix through so it cooks in the heat of the rice at the table. This is the sort of culinary theatre I can get behind: minimal effort, maximum smugness.
And then there is the GFC (£18). Gordon Fried Chicken, glazed in a hot Korean miso, and it is unbelievable. Lip-smacking, sticky, fiery, ridiculous. I could eat this all day, and I say that as someone who has given the matter serious thought since. It is a permanent fixture on the menu because customers would presumably riot otherwise, and I would be at the front of that riot.
Mains kept the standard. The Korean spiced black cod with gochujang (£46) was so delicate it barely needed chewing; this is how all fish should be cooked, and most fish will now disappoint me forever. The short rib (£40) was its rich, sticky opposite number, and worth noting the kitchen’s beef comes from the acclaimed Lake District Farmers. Even the plates deserve a mention, made bespoke for the restaurant by Surrey Ceramics, a family-owned business, and sturdy enough to survive my enthusiasm.
The wine list warrants your attention too. Alongside the cocktails sits an extensive and genuinely immersive wine and sake selection, deep enough to reward a wander well beyond the usual suspects. My advice is to do what we did with the cocktails and put yourself in the staff’s hands; the recommendations were spot on all evening, and if you want to go deeper, the restaurant runs boutique masterclasses in everything from sake and sushi to desserts and cocktails.
Speaking of desserts: they are a house speciality here, with a dedicated pastry team weaving rose, lychee and yuzu through the sort of dishes that make dessert a must-order. We, having shown no restraint whatsoever for two hours, had nowhere left to put one. Consider that a reason to return rather than a failure of planning.
What sort of evening should you expect? A relaxed one, unhurried, with the lighting doing everyone favours and the energy building as the night goes on. It works as a date night, a celebration or a long overdue catch-up, and if you want to push the boat out there is a Chef’s Table for ten with a fully tailored menu, a Kitchen Table, and three private dining rooms. Lucky Cat opened in Mayfair in 2019, born of Gordon Ramsay’s travels through Thailand, Vietnam, Japan and China, and has since spawned siblings in Manchester and at 22 Bishopsgate, London’s highest restaurant. On this evidence, the original is ageing like the short rib: slowly, and very well indeed.
10 Grosvenor Sq, London, W1K 6JP
