Some eateries have been around for so long as to be almost invisible to the regular passer-by. And it’s not necessarily a reflection on how good or bad they are, either.
Ikura on lower Haverstock Hill is one such example. In fact, isn’t most of Steeles Village, the self-styled hilly stretch climbing north of Chalk Farm tube? It’s not had an easy time of late, either, with the long-running Legal Café closing, newish arrivals like Tupelo Honey and the scaffolding-clad Load Of Hay pub struggling (it’s already back up for sale) and a boarded-up shopfront or two. It would appear Belsize Park’s café culture is focused on England’s Lane, the tube station parade and the Village.
We hadn’t been to Japanese restaurant Ikura for years; so a return visit in restrained late January was about right, pale green tea in hand.
It was a Friday night and my partner fretted about booking as there were three of us. But there was no need: the mid-sized dining room was as empty as it’s been on our previous visits. Two couples sat stiffly in one corner, a mother and child in another.
It was, we concluded, painfully quiet: we were afraid of being too rowdy (thank goodness our only stimulant was green tea). The core business must thrive solely on sushi and bento boxes being whisked out to the affluent backstreets of NW3.
Ensconced at a table by the dark front window, we gazed at the interior: there are hanging paper lanterns in what’s an otherwise unremarkable space, furnished with high-backed dark wood chairs and a carpet that’s seen better days.
Functional is the word – as many very good restaurants are, in fact, around the world – and yet we felt that, with a bit of effort, it could be more special. Why not install cosy booths, wood-panelling, softer lighting? This would help the experience along, without doubt, and make it somewhere more conducive to return.
The food is reliable. Edamame beans always make an easy opening crunch, while a plate of mixed maki rolls – spicy salmon, tuna avocado – were fresh, zingy and unchallenging to share as we chatted. The only (minor) dud was tuna sashimi, too icily fridge-cold to yield any discernible flavour.
The hot food was more memorable: richly savoury chicken gyoza, their savoury insides piping, just won out over its vegetable counterparts.
But these in turn were pipped to the post by a simple, yet superior mackerel dish. Grilled with a crispy skin, its flesh buttery, and served with the bitter hit of white cabbage, it was a steal at £6.50 – and our biggest recommendation should you care to visit. It was tastier than pricier black cod with miso, nonetheless still good value at £15.90 (unlike many high-end places where it usually hovers around the £25 mark).
As we ate – the kind-faced waiter repeatedly filling up our cups – we pondered how they could improve the customer experience and succeed in getting the punters streaming back in. One slightly unconventional detail is that downstairs is a part-living space occupied by a handful of family members staring at tablets, or reading magazines – which may feel uncomfortable for customers walking through to use the only toilet.
The real secret weapon in Ikura’s arsenal? The pricing and value for money: we shared the several courses described above and spent just £22 a head, including soft drinks and service. Not bad for items that can often mount up to an eye-watering bill.
As we left, with the waiter politely holding the door open, our overriding thought was sadly: how much longer will the likes of Ikura be around?
Hopefully – with a nip and tuck here and there – a good while longer yet.
