Yakuza by Olivier, Porto – Review

To call a restaurant Yakuza (Japanese Mafia) sure is fighting talk. But then again, there’s an increasing amount of competition amongst Porto’s burgeoning fine dining scene. If anyone knows this, it’s Olivier da Costa, one of the country’s most influential gastronomists. Not only does he own more than a staggering thirty restaurants, some of which stretch beyond his homeland, from London to Bangkok, but this is his fourth iteration of Yakuza in Portugal and his third restaurant in Porto. Part of Le Monumental Palace hotel on Avenida dos Aliados, Yakuza’s slap, bang location couldn’t be more slick or swish. 

Somewhat counter-intuitive in its visual imagery, a blood red and gold Samurai costume cum statuette stands guard at the front door, practically pats down entering diners with its fighting spirit. To its right, the main space is grandiloquent; all super high ceilings and pillars to match. With zig-zag tiled flooring, curved leather chairs, brass handrails and a repetitive series of pendant lights which look like secondary planets orbiting a primary one, Yakuza feels very much like a French art deco spot. Or a New York brasserie imitating a French art deco spot. At the restaurant’s far end a gaudy, bronze sculpture titillates with topless men and women and what might be Neptune brandishing a trident. Next to it stands a DJ desk but tonight, it not quite being the weekend, a sultry playlist unfolds instead. Opposite the entrance, a bright backlit bar shines, but, upon closer inspection, it’s actually a sushi counter. Wearing white headbands (kamikaze bands!?) and white sushi tops, three chefs beaver away in front of samurai swords, bonsai trees and bottles of sake. 

The menu is extensive so we order cocktails to help us on our way. I like the Yakuza Cocktails which include a Shogun, Margarita and Mojito twists but opt for a Japanese Whiskey Sour which includes Nikka whisky from the barrel and yuzu and is topped by a slice of desiccated lime and egg yolk froth. My friend goes for a more straightforward Belsazar Vermouth Red on the rocks. While we nibble on a surefire dish of salted edamame, we return to the menu which includes ‘Novidades Yakuza’, ‘Entradas’ and ‘Especias Yakuza’, and that’s before the ‘MakiSushi’, the ‘Sushi e Sahimi’ the ‘Combinados’ and the ‘Da Cozinha’. Lighting is atmospheric if not dusky; I have to use the light on my phone, and my friend has forgotten his glasses. The cocktails are starting to kick in, so we ask our waiter, Jorge, if he can help out. He doesn’t falter and offers up a mixture of his favourites with the suggestion of leaving the rest to the chef, omakase style. Impressively, he grates an actual wasabi vegetable in front of us for a subtler, less pungent taste than the more common paste. 

Before hitting the sushi, we share a couple of excellent fish and guacamole crispy tacos served with thin strips of seaweed and a sumptuous Yellowtail carpaccio drizzled in truffle ponzu. Our waitress, Lenor, brings us cold Soto Sake. ‘Soto’ means ‘outside’ in Japanese. It’s dry, delicate and smooth, has elegant floral aromas and aims to recreate the balance between the elements. We’re happily agreeing it achieves its goal when an Instagram moment is thrust upon us. A large bowl glistens with ice shavings and a solid block of ice. Ferns and flowers prettify the sashimi offering of salmon, seabass, sea bream and tuna. From a green fish shaped jug, Jorge pours what seems like a pint of dry ice, which, in spite of a lack of breeze, twists and twirls with Gothic dexterity. The sashimi, much like what came before and comes after is first grade melt-in-your-mouth delicious.

A practical tsunami of sushi follows, much of which we’re instructed not to dip into soy sauce or add wasabi to. All is served on a dazzling and dramatic display of ceramic dishes and plates. Roast turbot is chargrilled and meaty but delicate. Eel is also cooked and comes with a bone marrow sauce topped with caviar. Salmon is wrapped in a betel leaf. Turbot is served with lime and ginger and caramelised onion for a crunchy and surprisingly sweet finish. It’s not all fish, though; Wagyu comes rare but warm, is super tender and dressed with granules of salt and a spot of kizami wasabi.

Gabriel, our barman, comes over and offers us another cocktail. We discuss sake ones but in the end take his lead for a Porto version of The Caprice. It seems there’s whiskey as well as Graham’s Tawny and some ruby colouring (Campari!?). It goes down a treat and is not dissimilar to a sweeter Negroni, helps us with the luxury of three gunkuns each, none of them wrapped with anything so pedestrian as seaweed. Scallops are wrapped in tuna and come with a minimum of rice. Foie gras is also wrapped in tuna and topped with stringy leek shavings. Lenor asks if we have room for one more. We probably don’t but of course say we do as her manner of question, her proud smile suggests the chef has left the best till last. Is it the best? Probably. Unforgettable? Absolutely. The height of decadence? Most certainly. Wagyu beef gunken with foie gras and a sprinkling of caramelised onion has to be the sushi to end all sushis. 

We share a Bolo de Banana e Matcha, which is a banana cake with coconut ice cream. Sprinkled with matcha and chocolate caramel soil, Lenor suggests there almost might be a ‘surprise.’ We’re not sure what she’s talking about until we start eating and something starts popping. Literally. It was called Space Dust in my time, a popping candy which now seems to be known as Cosmic Dust. Lenor kindly writes down the names of some more bars to explore but, frankly, nothing’s going to come close to the extravagant and mouth-watering evening we’ve already had.