I found it. Not that I will discontinue my search, this journey has no end. For now at least, I can safely say that I have tasted the best sushi in London. Welcome to the Crazy Bear in Fitzrovia and prepare to chain yourself to the kitchen if they try to make you leave. The extent of my sushi love can get a little out of hand at times.
The Crazybear group has character bursting restaurants dotted around the country. In fact, it was actually their Stadhampton branch that first inspired me to start my restaurant writings in the first place. For all the men out there looking for somewhere to whisk your lady off her feet, Crazybear Stadhampton is the one, (potential suitors take note). Back in Fitzrovia and through the forest lined door is where my evening's magic began. Booking in advance is essential and know where you're going before you set out because there is a certain air of mystery behind this much sought after and somewhat hidden dinner venue.
Take a peek into the ridiculously oversized menu and prepare to want absolutely everything.
To our delight, the prawn crackers arrived with a deliciously sweet chilli sauce and we proceeded to inhale the crispy wonders.
Duck spring rolls complete with plum sauce and roasted cashews were placed in front of the hungry mouths. They had the most perfect duck to pastry ratio with enough sauce to be able to dip and soak and not run out!
But oh the sushi. Such tiny mounds of perfection. My words cannot do them justice, you will just have to try for yourselves!
The sweet and sour chicken knocked all other sweet and sour chickens off the map and for someone who orders sweet and sour chicken at .. let me think .. every chinese restaurant I am ever in, this is a serious victory. Lets just say sweet and sour chicken again for good measure. Sweet and sour chicken. Right, enough.
On a little jaunt downstairs, we cruised past this leather bound DJ booth fully equipped with DJ.
Our experience at the toilets was intriguing to say the least. After trying to look cool and sophisticated while gently shoving the mirrored walls in search of a door, we entered a glass cavern. After another blind search for the cubicles we moved towards the sink. We were met by a miniature waterfall in front of a mirror but as we moved our hands towards the water, we got the fright of our lives when large and hairy hands got their first. It was not a mirror, but the mens on the opposite side. Avoiding the urge to grab or high five the appearing hands opposite, we laughed it off and took pictures of ourselves in the shiny shiny room. Yes, very mature.
On our way back upstairs, we paused to absorb the wonders of the bar. A return trip is in order methinks.