There’s a reverent stillness that greets you at Roketsu. The unassuming façade gives nothing away, but stepping inside feels like passing through a portal. The light shifts. Voices soften. Shoes click gently against the Oribe-glazed tiles of the Roji (the entrance space), where tradition is not simply referenced but lived. It doesn’t feel hidden, exactly, but more like something purposefully placed just outside the pace of everyday London – as if waiting for you to arrive quietly, and on time.

The dining room, built entirely in Japan and reassembled piece by piece here in Marylebone, feels like a secret held in wood and stone. I took my place at the long hinoki counter – pale, citrus-scented, and smooth with centuries of grain – and time seemed to shift. What unfolded wasn’t performance, but something quieter: a ritual in motion.

It was as if I’d been invited into someone’s tea house; someone meticulous, thoughtful, and deeply proud of where they come from.

There’s no sense of urgency at Roketsu. No leaning into trends, no desire to impress through volume. Instead, every element is rooted in Kaiseki’s guiding principles: the art of seasonality, balance, and sensory harmony. The dishes and menu (which change monthly to ensure hyper-seasonality) honour the Japanese concept of Washoku, designated an Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO, and the rhythms of the three micro-seasons – Hashiri (early), Shun (peak), and Nagori (just past). That sensitivity to timing (both agricultural and emotional) pulses through every dish.

Each movement behind the counter is deliberate yet unhurried – a practice in presence. There are just ten seats here, each offering an intimate vantage point as dishes are passed directly across the wood. The chefs work in near silence, their focus unbroken as they slice, steam, and plate with the calm precision of calligraphy. It’s mesmerising, almost meditative. Downstairs, a few additional tables offer a more relaxed ‘sitting room’ setting, but there’s something sacred about the counter and the way it hushes the mind and brings you into stillness, one course at a time.

So let’s eat at Roketsu together

The multi-course lunch menu began with the Sakizuke – a delicate serving of yam jelly dressed with wasabi-an sauce and clams. It was a dish that could easily be mistaken for simple – its elegance, its restraint- but with one bite, it revealed layers of complexity. The jelly, cool and translucent, gave way to the deep saline sweetness of the clams, and the wasabi-an (all warmth and precision) lingered just long enough to awaken, not overwhelm. This was a start that asked me to pay attention.

The Gozen course arrived next: a tray so perfectly composed it felt like a season laid out before me. At its heart were sashimi: slender slices of Dover sole and tuna, served with the most decadent egg-yolk soy sauce – so rich and nuanced I found myself licking the bowl clean. But it was the Hassun (the seasonal appetisers) that truly took my breath away. A miniature landscape of intricacy and balance, wrapped gently in a folded bamboo leaf, was a delicate sushi roll; cool, compact, and pristine. In front, fried red mullet seasoned with vinegar and chilli, a soft prawn ‘cake’ crowned with poppy seeds, hake glazed with sweet soy, tender green vegetables simmered in dashi and finished with white sesame, and home-smoked salmon with pickled daikon and Japanese burdock, topped with a special miso. The textures and flavours danced between one another – earthy, bright, rich, and clean – and the plating was so precise, so impossibly beautiful, that I hesitated before picking up my chopsticks. But I’m glad I did.

There are no rules here. The Hassun is meant to be eaten at your own pace, in whichever order you choose. It’s a rare moment of freedom in fine dining, guided not by formality but by flavour and authenticity. Seasonality, of course, underpins everything: most ingredients are sourced locally from across the UK, chosen at their exact moment of Shun – their seasonal prime. And yet, in staying true to Kaiseki’s roots, certain fish are sourced directly from Japan, selected not for extravagance but for the specific flavour profiles that simply don’t exist elsewhere. Roketsu doesn’t pretend that importing is perfect – it’s a conscious trade-off. But transparency matters more than absolutes here, and that honesty runs through the food as clearly as the dashi itself.

The Owan, a green tea-steamed whitefish served in an umami-rich broth, came in a lacquered bowl with a lid; an act of preservation and reveal. I removed the top slowly, and the steam that rose felt like the beginning of a quiet ceremony. Floating within was a poetic harmony of seasonal accents – slivers of daikon, chard, mizuna, and the subtle crunch of buckwheat seeds. It was light, but deeply nourishing – a dish that held silence as much as it held flavour. The broth, made from a dashi base, is the invisible hand of Kaiseki. You don’t see its intricacy, but you taste its depth – a reminder that water, not earth or fire, is the foundation of this cuisine.

Throughout the meal, perfectly paired sake evolved alongside the food, never dominating, always in conversation. There was a deep respect for balance here between texture, temperature, and taste. This wasn’t about building to a crescendo. It was about maintaining harmony.

Dessert arrived with the same quiet elegance as everything before it: Alphonso mango pudding with lemon ice cream and passion fruit. It was light, but vibrant – tropical sweetness cut by the citrus clarity of the ice cream, with passion fruit adding just the right sharpness. After such a thoughtful progression of savoury courses, this final note was gently exuberant – not loud, but undeniably joyful.

What struck me most wasn’t just the food, or even the extraordinary precision of its execution. It was the sense of care in sourcing, in crafting, in serving. Roketsu doesn’t hang banners about sustainability, but it is deeply embedded in its practice. From sourcing through responsible fisheries to using seasonal, low-impact produce and celebrating handcrafted materials, the restaurant embodies a sustainable ethos without ever having to name it. Even the architecture, built by Kyoto-based Nakamura Sotoji Komuten and assembled by craftsmen on site, speaks in whispers to a philosophy that values longevity, precision, and care over speed or spectacle. It’s not an add-on. It’s simply the way things are done.

And in the end?

There is a wordless wisdom to this place – the kind that doesn’t try to translate itself, but trusts you’ll listen. And you do. Because when everything slows down, when the noise falls away, and when the food is this good, silence is not absence. Its intention.

Roketsu isn’t trying to be like anywhere else in London. Instead, it offers something increasingly rare: the chance to experience authenticity not as nostalgia, but as living culture. There’s no need to embellish what’s already perfect in its simplicity. And that, in today’s world, is perhaps the greatest luxury of all.

W: Roketsu
T: 020 3149 1227

Written by Emma Blunt for Luxuria Lifestyle International