Yamamori review: Restaurant that taught Dublin about sushi shows why it has thrived for 30 years

Yamamori

    

Address: 71/72 South Great Georges Street, Dublin 2

Telephone: 01 475 5001

Cuisine: Japanese

Website: https://www.yamamori.ie/southcityOpens in new window

Cost: €€€

Yamamori feels like one of the last survivors in a city that has been reinvented several times. The name alone unsticks the decades – that distinct red logo emblazoned over the restaurant near the end of South Great George’s Street.

I first came here in 1995, the year it opened, when eating Japanese food in Dublin felt quietly subversive. I was already a fan of sushi and sashimi. My daughter Katherine was a one-year-old when I first brought her to Yamamori and, with the unhinged enthusiasm of someone meeting their true calling, she quickly proved it must be genetic. I sat there glowing with parental smugness, convinced she was destined for sophistication – until I ruined it by feeding her a thumb of nigiri hiding a generous whack of wasabi. Within seconds she was shrieking, face blotched, eyes streaming. Few sounds clear a diningroom faster than a toddler screaming over raw horseradish.

Now, I’m back with her again. Yamamori is marking 30 years in business, and Katherine still loves Japanese food. The room is more refined. The benches are gone, replaced by booths of dark red leather divided by panels of frosted glass. The bar runs the length of one wall, and cane-shaded lamps hang low over the tables.

Menus arrive, an edible record of Dublin’s long education in Japanese food. It has changed a lot. What began as a lean menu of tempura, udon and bento has expanded into a catalogue of sushi, sashimi, ramen, teppan and grill dishes, each carrying some trace of the old Yamamori. The tempura no longer comes with a bowl of udon in broth, and the prices have climbed from casual to grown-up – more special occasion than spur of the moment. We go the small-plates route, focusing on sushi and sashimi, steering clear of salmon, which is farmed now and rarely worth eating.

Akami – four pieces of bluefin tuna (€21.75) – carries a punchy price, as does the hamachi – yellowtail – (€20.25). The sashimi is cleanly cut – the tuna holds its shape, dense and cold, with that subtle clean edge that signals quality. The yellowtail is looser, finer, a soft pulse of sea and salt. Two pieces of unagi foie gras nigiri (€11.75) are burnished like crème brûlée, the torched foie melting into the soy-glazed eel and the judiciously seasoned rice beneath. The rice isn’t served blood-warm, as Jiro in Jiro Dreams of Sushi would insist, but it’s delicately perfumed with mirin. I get to relish it all while nudging the vegetarian gyoza towards the pescatarian across the table.

The six handmade Japanese pumpkin gyoza (€13.25) come lightly blistered, their edges sealed in neat half-moons and the bases crisped to a fine gold. The wrappers are thin enough to show the filling’s outline – a mix of chopped pumpkin, onion, pumpkin seed and kale. The first bite breaks with a quiet snap, releasing steam and an involuntary intake of breath. These are outstanding gyoza.

The tempura that follows – soft-shell crab (€15.25) and vegetable (€14.25) – is swathed in lacy batter, crisp and uneven, as it should be, clinging in thin translucent layers that shatter with each bite. The crab is stretched in a loose ring, legs curled inward, one claw missing as if it escaped mid-fry. Inside, the meat is soft and delicate, a contrast to the brittle shell. The vegetables are bright and distinct – aubergine fanned into thin slices, courgette broad and juicy, sweet potato warm and earthy, and a single spear of broccoli.

We drink warm Shiro sake (€45). It’s clean and lightly floral with just enough rice sweetness to lift the salt of soy and the heat of fried batter. Sake here isn’t an afterthought tacked on to a list of wines and cocktails. The selection runs from crisp Junmai to silkier Daiginjo, served warm or chilled depending on the rice polish and mood of the table.

Rainbow roll at Yamamori. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Tempura at Yamamori. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Sashimi Moriawase at Yamamori. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Yamamori on South Great Georges Street. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Yamamori on South Great Georges Street. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill Yamamori on South Great Georges Street. Photograph: Dara Mac Dónaill

Dessert arrives – green tea and raspberry ice cream (€8.95) in three small ramekins, the matcha earthy and cool, the raspberry sharp enough to wake you up. Matcha, when done well, tastes like the air before rain – grassy, mineral, faintly electric. This one is just that: clean, cold, precise.

It’s impossible not to think about time in a place like Yamamori. Restaurants aren’t meant to last this long – especially not the ones that introduced a cuisine to a city still eating its way out of salad cream. Yamamori survived everything the past 30 years have thrown at it, and, with a younger generation of the family now running it, looks good for a few more decades.

Dinner for two with a bottle of sake was €150.45.

The verdict: Yamamori’s secret isn’t nostalgia – it’s getting the basics right for 30 straight years.

Food provenance: Larousse, Kish, Glenmar, Jim Franey, and Japan Food Company.

Vegetarian options: Vegetarian sushi rolls, nigiri platters, ramen and vegetarian bento.

Wheelchair access: No accessible room or toilet.

Music: Lo-fi beat