The no-frills Sagawa interiorWintry, icy nights often make one crave "comfort" food. (Why the quotes? Because
all food gives me comfort. And not just in the winter.) Bangers 'n' mash with loads of onion gravy, a steaming bowl of stew, that sort of thing. Strange then, that the effort of negotiating snowy streets in search of some last-minute Christmas gifts should put me in the mood for a nice bit of sushi. Maybe a rice craving; probably my subconscious telling me that snow is only useful when there's a side of something freshly-caught glistening rawly atop it. I can't be sure. Anyway, sushi it had to be.
Our (for I was joined by the Good Lady this evening) usual haunt for a fistful of raw fish is
St Sushi, so after a swift and well-deserved half at the humidly noisy
Tilleys we headed across the road to St Sushi... and got as far as the door. Where's the conveyor? What about the chefs skilfully slicing sides of salmon at the counter in the middle of the room? All gone, and for no good reason as far as I can tell: the place was empty. So in a fit of pique, and certainly not based on any sensible food-related evidence, we decided not to reward St Sushi with our custom.
(How did it get its name? Does it mean Saint Sushi, in honour of the made-up Saint of Fish 'n' Rice, or Sushi Street, our preferred choice, but would mean the words are back-to-front. Answers on a postcard please!)
The Good Lady, who seems to keep effortlessly abreast of the comings and goings of Newcastle restaurants, was aware of a Japanese place which opened this year on the former site of a credit-crunched retro clothing shop. And so it was we ended up in
Sagawa.
The fact that Sagawa also offers karaoke could be in no doubt from the atrocious racket coming from upstairs. To be fair, it could have been a faithful rendition of a song with no conventional tonal structure, rhythm or discernible lyrics. But I doubt it. Nevertheless, the karaoke facilities (upon later inspection) do appear comprehensively equipped, allowing both singing and eating in the same room. Indeed at the same time, if tonight was anything to go by.
With either single servings or platters of sushi to choose from, and noodles and rices aplenty, the menu is well-apportioned and varied. We chose from as many parts of the menu as we thought we could manage.
Sagawa's shallow-fried chicken dumplings, £3.50Chicken dumplings are offered either shallow- or deep-fried. With the memory of my guilt-inducing deep fried spare ribs still fresh in my mind, I suggested shallow-fried. This meant the folded crescents of pastry were crispy on each side with adjoining soft chewyness. The garlicky filling of heavily-seasoned chicken and vegetables was a juicy contrast to the crispness of the shell. A fine start.
Sagawa vegetable tempura, £6.00Vegetable tempura (my non-batter diet lasted about ten minutes) was all crispness out and steaming goodness in. I love not knowing exactly what I'm eating if I find it delicious, and this tempura delivered the goods here. There was a sweet potato chunk and a mushroom, but beyond that I was stumped - clump of bendy stamens tied with seaweed paper anyone? A good fist at a light tempura batter too.
What is that?I've no idea what the tiny dish of accompanying fruit was, but I can tell you what it was like to eat. A yellow disc with firm, softly yielding flesh had a hint of sweetness to offset its somewhat bitter tang. My best guess is some sort of radish. And the red clump was as sour as a spinster's cranberry. The Good Lady was having none of it.
As we waited for mains there was time to linger over our draught Asahi (oh yes! £3.80/pint) and consider the décor, such as it was. Sagawa have acquired a large retail space and painted it nice bright colours and pretty much left it at that. Some Japanese-flavoured chintz would help disguise the basic lack of charisma of the space; but that might miss the point. Having never visited Japan I can't be sure, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if the majority of provincial Japanese restaurants find themselves located underneath office blocks and modern residential developments, stunted at birth by the function-over-form modernist aesthetic. I'll have to see Japan myself to find out for sure, but I have a suspicion that Sagawa have authentically recreated the bleak ambience of the modern Japanese eating house. Perhaps the meagre drape in place of a proper front door was pushing authenticity little too far considering the chill night air. We kept our jackets on until the food arrived.
Sagawa's seaweed soup rice, £4.50Sticky rice, moist and soupy underneath, seasoned with sesame, and topped with seaweed paper and a chunk of wasabi provided the "comfort" part of the meal. Hot, filling, and no doubt nutritious, but underflavoured and forgettable. It's unclear from the menu whether the soup rices are standalone mains or not: I say not.
Sagawa's Rainbow Rolls, £9.80
At last: that which we came for, and which would say the most about the quality and character of the chef. One long roll sliced into eight morsels, alternating salmon, tuna, octopus, prawn and eel. I find it difficult to eat sushi with anything more complicated than fingers: the seaweed paper objects to being bitten through; the chopsticks fight a losing battle trying to prevent the whole roll being consumed as one. I wrestled with four delicious examples of the sushi chef's art. The fish as fresh as is reasonable to expect for a coastal city (ie very): no smell at all, delicately flavoured and yieldingly soft. An Everest of wasabi overwhelmed a few stingy rumples of pickled ginger.
So. Go for draught Asahi, great dumplings and perfectly competent sushi. Don't go for the draught, weird veg and soup rices. And if you sing karaoke, please try a bit harder. We're trying to eat down here.
Service 3/5
Food 3/5
Atmosphere 2/5
Value 3/5
2-10 Cross Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE1 4XE
0191 261 8323
