The torrential rain put me in a less than positive mood. Then there were car troubles. As a consequence I was late dropping my boyfriend to work. I could feel him glaring at me as we edged through traffic. All excitement about spending a night with old friends, getting dressed up and drinking bubbles, vanished. My stress levels rose exponentially. Dinner was sure to be disastrous.

I arrived at Toko slightly disheveled, out of breath and in dire need of a drink. I was disgruntled. My hair was limp. I was prepared to be more than disappointed, positive that I was entering another pretentious establishment, certain to put me on edge and fail to deliver. Instead I was pleasantly surprised. Aesthetically Toko is everything it purports to be, all class, simple yet stylish. Although packed with people, an aura of calm enveloped the spacious room. The Maitre de was charming and assured us we would get a table within half an hour. This sounded positively civil.

We reclined at the bar, sipping prosecco and waiting patiently. The amiable staff, who actually dared smile on more than one occasion, amplified the venue’s appeal. A stark change from so many establishments that attempt trendy exclusivity by employing rude, stand-offish waiters. However their politeness proved necessary, as we waited an hour and a half, indulging in a lot more drinks before we got a table.

A little past 9:30, suitably ravenous, we were finally seated. Wine and sake arrived within minutes but we waited a bit longer to place a food order. The waiters managed to maintain their reasonably friendly facades, despite that it was hellishly busy (although I am sure one poor lady was ready to belt me over the head when asked for a third helping of ginger with, upon her return, my companion requesting yet another dollop of wasabi).

The food did more than deliver; it was wonderful. One may argue that this was due to the fact that I was famished and slightly intoxicated. Whatever the circumstances, everything was outstanding and all the dishes were brought out in thoughtful intervals, not just simultaneously plonked in front of us. Considerate timing is something that doesn’t always happen with share food.

We nibbled on two types of edamame beans (traditional salty and spicy); both varieties were beautifully crisp. The pacific oysters were delicious, with a delectable salsa. The sashimi and sushi were lovely too, clean and fresh. However the real stars were from the famed robata grill. A very discerning critic of steak in any form, the only criticism I had over the teriyaki grilled fillet was that I could have eaten five - it was mouth watering and tender, grilled to perfection. The perch with miso managed to take everything up another notch - it was divine. I wouldn’t have considered it save for the advice of a kindly waiter.
We live in a city gastronomically spoiled for choice. There is an abundance of Japanese restaurants and sushi bars that will never fail to impress. Toko, arguably slightly pretentious, gives that bit more than just good food. This is an establishment that you go to for an experience. Somewhere you can feel a bit special, regardless of the mundane stresses in one’s life or indeed, the less than attractive state of one’s hair.

Photo Courtesy of Creative Commons