First things first; Google Maps and the British izakaya-ish restaurant Evernight are not well-acquainted. In fact, they fucking hate each other. Disembarking from the number 87 at Covent Garden Market East Side, as instructed, was the easy part. Trying to get from there to the restaurant was anything but, with twenty minutes spent walking in a shameful loop at Google’s behest. It’s in Embassy Gardens, a minute from the behemoth US Embassy; it shouldn’t be hard.
Anyway, set yourself a little more time than you think you need. Phone the restaurant to tell them you’re running late, and when you eventually do find it, let the clinical, minimalist dining room – all impressively high ceilings and suave lanterns that cast a light on every imperfection – cool you down rather than highlight just how flustered you’re looking.
Not to worry; once you’ve settled into your countertop seating at an elevation ideal for leaning, you’re in for a treat; there simply aren’t many imperfections even the most brutal of lighting could highlight. Evenight is a truly impressive dining experience that has got to be one of London’s best right now.
The work of former Clove Club and Two Lights’ chef Chase Lovecky (who has now moved on to Dovetale) and the Laughing Heart’s Lynus Lim (who remains, and is the owner), Evernight brings the spirit of a traditional Japanese izakaya to Nine Elms, at least according to all the press releases when the place opened in 2022, merging British ingredients with Japanese culinary techniques in the process.
The latter part is certainly true – the ingredients here are spanking – but can we really call Evernight an ‘izakaya’, even a British interpretation of one? It’s more formal than that, more conscientiously stylish and deliberately stripped back, with a modern metropolis vibe that feels fitting for an area in the throes of redevelopment and constantly building skyward.
You wouldn’t talk lasciviously with a neighbouring diner here – it’s a space where hushed tones reign supreme. For all the careful sourcing and delicacy on the plate, a little reverence actually feels appropriate, for once. That said, the presence of a collection of charming young chefs just behind the curtain, all jovial repartee and the occasional appearance for an enthusiastic explanation of the dishes, makes sure things don’t fall too far on the stuffy side.
We dropped by (that sounds too casual; we blustered in) in early July, the beneficiaries of British mid-summer’s micro-seasonality and chef Lim’s studied, tight technique.
He really knows how to write a menu, Evernight’s a celebration of produce and provenance, the concept set out in dishes that combine the restaurant’s clearly defined influences. Nasu dengaku (the sometimes ubiquitous but always delicious miso glazed aubergine) sits next to locally foraged wild garlic, for instance, while Orkney scallops are listed in a claypot, donabe-style. It’s a menu that demands deliberation, so order in some house pickles, a strong, purposeful cocktail, and have a ponder.
The kombu martini is a winner to get things started. Clean and precise, it follows the classic Martini framework, but with a kombu infusion replacing the usual ‘dirty’ olive brine. There’s an intention to every element in this opening gambit, down to the terrifyingly delicate glassware, that refreshes and resets the palate for things to come.
The opener of potato cake, a riff on okonomiyaki, perhaps, with its crisped, starchy base, zigzag of Kewpie mayo and trout roe standing in for katsuobushi, was a ripping start, texturally immaculate and with fine interplay between salty and sharp, luxurious and humble.
A succession of pretty, hyper-seasonal seafood plates followed, a tempura courgette flower stuffed with scallop mousse a real highlight. On the plate, a gastrique with a sheen you could do your hair in initially caused concern – did it fit on a plate this light and breezy? – but made perfect sense in bringing a bit of vigour and acidity to a plate that otherwise verged on the vegetal.
Half fillets of sparkling fresh Cornish mackerel done in the aburi style (as in, sushi that’s partially seared with a blow torch) felt like the most succinct expression of the oily fish’s innate characteristics, its skin blistered and off-bitter, its flesh gently warm and pleasingly rich as a result. It sat on a grated tomato oroshi that was just the right side of tart, the perfect foil for the oily fish. Another fine balancing act in a menu full of them, though a creeping feeling that some rice would be necessary began to nag.
In fact (and unsurprisingly) that oily fish/tart condiment interplay was a defining feature of the meal, the in-yō of the experience anchoring everything that hit the cedar wood counter. And so it was with a dish of immaculate, pleasingly thick cut sea bass sashimi and rhubarb ponzu, the fish’s intricate scoring helping it give way in the mouth so satisfyingly.
A puck of picked Devon crab served dressed with nori aguachile brought a Mexican flourish to the plate with its distinctive, piquant chilli-heat, the dashi jelly an interesting counterpoint in a dish that was summery and sweet.
We could’ve stopped there and left happy, but in true Ramiro style, it felt like a little beef was needed almost as a dessert, its buttery richness serving as the opposite of a palate cleanser, coating the mouth with A5 wagyu fat and neutralising an acidity that had been building throughout the meal. That all sounds rather clinical for a piece of seared but blushing steak that was some of the finest beef we’ve tasted recently. Forget all that chewy Galician retired dairy blue cheesy stuff – this is what you want at the end of a meal. No mastication, no effort – just beef that melts like ice cream on the tongue. Mmmm; beef ice cream.
For actual dessert, a yuzu and sake sorbet or a set cream with strawberries and sorel were there to round things off, but we just wanted to let that beef linger. Next time, next time…
To drink, a tight, expressive wine list that is, admittedly, not cheap. The most affordable bottle, in fact, was a 2021 Delhommeau ‘Le Fief Seigneur’ Melon de Bourgogne from Loire for £44. Harden’s called the wines here ‘edgy’ for some reason, which simply isn’t true – there are plenty of established, Old World wineries on the list. They were right about the sake, though; it is indeed cloudy. A bottle of Rihaku ‘Dreamy Clouds’ did the job for us; its milky texture and hint of rice sweetness grounded by a pleasing earthiness. A real treat, and so you’d hope at £84 a bottle.
Not that we’re complaining. Though Evernight has, curiously, a Michelin Bib Gourmand to its name (denoting ‘good food at moderate prices’), it is a blowout kind of place, whichever way you look at it. The food isn’t just good, either, it’s exceptional.
Rather than being bogged down in stifling, impossible attempts at authenticity – we are in Nine Elms, not Nakameguro, after all – Evernight’s concept feels fully realised and harmoniously delivered. Evernight delivers its version – its vision – of British-Japanese food with precision.
Evernight is an evening only affair (6pm to 11pm), Evernight is closed on Sundays and Mondays.
Website: evernightlondon.co.uk
Address: Unit 1A, 3 Ravine Way Embassy Gardens, London SW11 7BH