Another wizard from Oz

This review was published in August 2001

Having joined the throng who worship at the altar of David Thompson, who recently landed at The Halkin and captivated foodies with his bizarre brand of shallot-sprinkled cuisine, I felt compelled to try the food of Thompson's antipodean rival, Tetsuya Wakuda.

In the southern hemisphere, the two men are pretty evenly matched. Indeed, from the hype and the cookbook, it seems that Wakuda's place in Sydney is the Nobu of the Antipodes: waiting for two months for a table is positively fast-track. Even Tom Cruise is said to be unable to turn up unexpectedly and get a table. I am sure that if Tetsuya continues treating Mr Cruise this way, he will at least gain the lifelong admiration of Antipodean thespian Nicole Kidman.

Perhaps Mr Wakuda thought his fame would precede him to London. It hasn't. So while Mr Thompson has benefited from a high-powered but sotto voce PR campaign to become the most talked-about chef in London, Wakuda's place has opened without so much as a whimper. On the Friday night I visited it was about a third full. This really is a shame, as I think it is sensationally good.

Admittedly, the look of the hotel does not help. The Millennium Hotel on Sloane Street is neither No 1 Aldwych nor Sanderson - although there are rumours of a refurb. It is the sort of place you wind up staying in by mistake. Indeed, my guest actually went to the wrong Millennium Hotel - apparently there's another one on Gloucester Road. In the correct Millennium Hotel, the bar is sparsely populated by full-figured, moustachioed gentlemen puffing cigars. However, the restaurant, located on a mezzanine level, with a spectacular glass roof, is an attractive space, even if - as my friend pointed out - it looks like an airport.

But where Wakuda's operation takes over from the hotel, things look up. The welcome is appropriate: pleased-to-see-you in a modern, international and formally informal way. As at Nahm, there is a kindly, clued-up restaurant manager who takes everything in hand immediately. And, as at Nahm, you pay around 50 quid for a multi-course banquet dinner. In fact, there's no alternative. Comparisons with Nahm cease, however, when the first dishes arrive. If Nahm is a Jackson Pollock, a riot of jangling flavours assaulting the palate, then Mju is a Canaletto; delicate, precise and comparatively classical.

The first course of lobster mousse with wasabi and wakame jelly arrives in a martini glass; it's a little kitsch, but first contact with the palate shows that a serious talent is at work. Even if Wakuda himself was not cooking that night (in which case, the kitchens were in the capable hands of head chef Chris Behre), the flavours were concentrated and clear.

As the dishes piled up, a pattern emerged. Firstly, Mju is big on presentation: geometric plate after geometric plate indicate that one is intended to derive pleasure from the layout of the food before trashing it with the cutlery. Secondly, although the menu does not contain anything exotic - tataki of venison with rosemary and honey was about the furthest the envelope got pushed - there is a subtlety about the preparation that catches one off guard.

Take the slow-roasted marinated Scottish wild salmon. On the face of it, about as unadventurous as one can get. However, it was so soft and buttery that I wondered whether, rather like kobe beef, the salmon had been fed beer and then massaged to render it so tender. Other highlights on the menu were the lobster ravioli with seaweed vinaigrette and the Lilliputian rack of lamb that had obviously been grazed on bonsai grass.

Another highlight was the bill, which, with a couple of glasses of wine superbly chosen by the sommelier and a few beakers of fruit punch, came to around £200. But in this increasingly overpriced city, there are more than enough punters with the wallets to withstand this kind of pricing and the palates to appreciate this kind of world-class cooking. n

Mju
16-17 Sloane Street, SW1X 9NU