Nagomi Sake Restaurant
Stowell Street
Newcastle
Tel: 0191 233 2333
Open seven days a week from noon to midnight.
 Japanese restaurants offer either the fiery flourishes of the tepanyaki hotplate, with chefs flinging everything skyward and catching eggs in their hats, or the tranquil efficiency of the likes of Nagomi in Newcastle's Stowell Street. They both have their attractions and, tonight, a spot of tranquillity was on the menu. I made a small miscalculation when booking our table, as will become clear. We travelled innocently into town, completely unaware of events unfolding ahead. The chauffeuse suggested things were livelier than expected for a midweek evening. It was only when we turned into Strawberry Place and saw hundreds of fans striding purposefully towards the gates that the awful truth finally dawned. "The Lads" were playing at home! This wouldn't normally be anything other than good, but Nagomi is just down the road from the ground and, with three minutes to spare before our booking, I was banking on easily getting a nearby parking space. The chances of that became even slimmer as we became locked into all the other parking hopefuls. Ignoring her suggestion that I "should have known" and "why couldn't they watch it on the box?", I suggested she turned right and we could try the back streets. She turned left, her knuckles whitely gripping the wheel and jaw set, ready for battle. These are two signs that silence is golden - 22 carat! She swung into St James's car park, bumped the car up to the kerb on a single yellow and snapped the lights and engine off. I quickly got out before she locked it and me in, congratulated her on her skilful problem solving and headed off, against the tide of would-be spectators, along Stowell Street. Nagomi's dimpled, red leather banquettes, sparkly granite-topped tables, each with an elegant trailing lotus blossom, were a welcome sight. A small display of Noh masks added a dash of oriental drama. Let the tranquillity begin. A gentle undercurrent of music, a glass of Great Wall of China house white and we were away. The exotically named Dragon Eye grapes produced a fruity, crisp running mate to the meal. Being relative novices at this game, we explored the menu. Several tables seemed to have gone for the package holiday approach and chosen one of the poetically-named banquets. We were feeling more adventurous and made our own itinerary, with some guidance from the very charming waitress, which ran as follows. We set off with Avocado and fried crab rolls. Six beautifully gift wrapped parcels of deep fried crab, each bejewelled with amber sparkling roe, arrived in formation. Green and pale yellow slices of creamy avocado snaked around paper-thin black nori that held a tiny barrel of sticky rice with a crispy nugget of crab at the centre. The mix of textures and colours made this first sortie a very positive experience. Feeling confident, we chose some Yellow fish tail sushi for the next stage. I was pleasantly surprised at just how delicious it was. Slices of paradoxically white fish draped themselves over balls of lightly vinegared rice, presenting a bit of a chopstick challenge, but I triumphed in the end. The final three little gems lay on the dish, like a bonsai Sage building, awaiting their destiny. The absolute freshness of the fish, packed with flavour, combined with the semi-sweet rice was a good partnership, a bit like us. We took a rest from adventure and had some deep fried prawn tempura, and were not disappointed by this old favourite. A flurry of cloud covered prawns, sizzling hot and crunchy fresh, arrived on cue. They looked so good it was almost a shame to eat them - but needs must. The only dilemma was that there were five of them and two of us. My companion graciously let me have the extra one. 'Beware of Greeks etc.' skimmed through my mind, but I was in devil-may-care mode and accepted equally graciously. A cloud of a different hue passed across the table, but I looked away. Teriyaki beef and winter mushrooms followed. Tender slices of beef, flash seared and rolled around the juiciest mushrooms, made a wonderfully meaty-moist mix. A tangle of beansprouts countered any risk of cholesterol damage and we moved on to the next dish, chicken and vegetable congee. The pallid, glutinous porridge, lacked any discernible flavour. I'm sure this was as it was meant to be, but it wasn't the dish for me. Desserts were another foray into the unknown. We discovered the traffic light colours and subtle sweetness of Daifuku cake and the pithy/smooth textures of Red bean jelly. Trying to make amends for the start of the evening, I calculated that if we left soon we would avoid the returning flood of spectators. Express espressos while we paid the bill of £45 and made our exit - into waves of disenchanted fans trailing miserably home after another disappointing evening. Better luck next time, lads. | 
