What omakase actually means.

Omakase (お任せ) literally translates to 'I leave it up to you'. In a Japanese kitchen, that hands the menu to the chef. You sit down. You don't order. The chef sees the room, sees what's freshest that morning, sees what your face says when the first bite lands, and goes from there.

Our chef's-table omakase runs ten courses over about two hours, served at the sushi counter. There are six seats, two seatings a night (6.30pm and 9pm), Wednesday and Thursday only. We do six instead of twelve so the chef can actually talk to you while plating, and so each piece can be cut right before it lands.

The structure rarely changes much, even when the contents do. We open with three or four cold or raw courses (a sashimi flight, the avocado-tobiko, a cured fish), move into one or two from the robata grill, then the sushi run — usually six to eight pieces, paced — and finish with a small dessert. If you came in last week, you won't get the same dinner this week.

What we ask of you: come hungry, leave allergies up front, and trust the order. If you don't drink fish roe, tell us at the door. If you've got an hour and a half rather than two and a quarter, tell us at the door. Beyond that, the more you let the kitchen run the night, the better it works.

The drinks pairing is optional. Sake (£55) is the obvious pick — five 60ml pours, picked to match the courses. Champagne pairing (£75) leans toward Blanc de Blancs and rosé. We can also do a non-alcoholic flight using teas, the kitchen's own kombu-citrus shrubs and house cordials.

Why book this versus the regular menu? Because it's the most direct line to the kitchen. The chef cooks for you, not the room. Our regulars rotate through the omakase a few times a year, when something seasonal is on (sakura, autumn mushrooms, winter shellfish), and most can tell you exactly what was cooked that night, six months later. That's the test.