Unless you're Gwyneth Paltrow's head, seven is the luckiest number, which is good news for the husband-wife behind Sushi Tetsu, whose tiny, thoroughly traditional Clerkenwell nook serves only that many at a time.
Using only a knife and a blowtorch, they prep former swimmers right before your eyes, with tuna, for instance, neatly sliced into the "red part", the "medium rich part", and finally -- using that blowtorch to insta-sear the outside -- the "very rich part" of the fish, which can afford to send its spawn to public schools.
The menu (which looks amazing -- check it out here) is largely an irrelevance, as it's highly recommended that you try the "chef's choice", bringing you whatever's best that day on banana leaf plates, in ascending portions of "plum", "snow", and "moon" (hopefully ushering in the phrase "you are as fat as the moon"), with possibilities including turbot, black bream, sweet shrimp, horse mackerel, sea urchin, and glowingly recommended, bio-luminescent Pacific spear squid.
Drink like what you're eating with Japanese addlements such as plum wine, barley liquor, a black lager, and a slew of sakes including Kamotsuru, brewed the exact same way since 1623, a very enviable track record indeed. Oh sweet Jesus is that Kevin Spacey?