Joanna Blythman: Tattu, Edinburgh - Imaculate table clearing, high awareness of what customers might need

No decorative gesture seems extravagant enough for Tattu. Yes, those actually are whole, real cherry trees, to be precise, shipped from Japan, with Sakura pink silk petals hand-stitched onto the branches.

We feel as if we’re having a midnight cherry blossom picnic in a Tokyo park, although the lavish gold dragon on the roof, and the teak-like lattice fretwork quite transports us to a 1950s Suzi Wong-era Hong Kong.

All this, in case we missed it, is reflected up to us by mirror tabletops. And after a cocktail, a Crouching Tiger perhaps – “the elegance and power of a tiger. Gin, tequila and pink grapefruit” – we might well stagger out of Tattu groggy, and disoriented, as if we have woken up from an opulent oriental dream featuring an upmarket Graham Greene opium den.

So, a word of caution about Tattu. It’s so alluring, almost hypnotic in atmosphere, keep an eye on what you’re spending. It’s not that Tattu is ridiculously over-priced or even poor value, not when you factor in the mood-enhancing decor, the no-holds-barred escapism.

And the food, for a chain, albeit a small chain – four as yet, no more than five anticipated – is way better than it would need to be for Tattu to succeed.

It’s just that intoxicated with this reverie of a restaurant, most of us will involuntarily indulge.

The menu is the opposite of flowery. “Lobster and prawn toast with sweet and sour chilli sauce” is an understated description of these black and white sesame seed-coated balls that are all crunchily fried and succulent upon their fragile toast podiums.

Rustling “crispy kale seaweed” spiced with Ichimi pepper and a judicious hint of five spice powder, makes an addictive nibble. And what we appreciate, when three duck rolls arrive tucked up in a seaweed waistband not unlike a Japanese obi, is not just their meaty rillettes-like texture, nor the potency of the cherry Hoisin sauce, but also just how clean the frying is here. Not a whiff of old oil.

“Thai-style monkfish with lime, shallots and lemongrass”? At £26, this could be a reckless gamble that we lose.

But our bet pays off: four plump chunks of this pricey fish, fresh, free-from chewy membrane, encased in crisp crumbs that barely intrude, letting the monkfish speak for itself and hold its own against the zingy aromatics.

On paper “lamb lion’s head tacos” sounded like an idea that might surpass the reality, but this meat in its fresh tangle of salad and herbs, dipped in a soothing galangal, lime leaf and coconut dipping sauce, does work.

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These beansprout noodles are, yet again, more interesting than they sound, silky, fine, springy, but they make a quiet support act for the headliners.

Our “cherry blossom” dessert, a theatrical flummery featuring chocolate mousse, cherry and candyfloss, is pure theatre. It arrives like some temple offering on a raised platter.

Our waitress pours water from an elegant teapot around it – the trick is dry ice and hot water apparently – at which point it emits a white snowy mist that wouldn’t look out of place in the frozen North as seen in His Dark Materials.

A puff of the puce-coloured floss, bright orange and lilac fresh viola blossoms, the sticky date-brown mousse so thick, it’s almost cheesy and, much to my amazement, a cherry sorbet that actually tastes like fresh cherries, only the most grumpy, cynical theatre critic would not applaud this performance.

The front-of-house team makes a willing cast: immaculate table clearing, high awareness of what customers might need.

Tattu’s challenge, like all chains, will be to make sure that the show goes on and on for a long run without becoming stale.

Tattu, 18 West Register Street, Edinburgh 0131 558 1922

Food: 9/10

Service: 9/10

Atmosphere: 10/10

Value for money: 8/10

Joanna Blythman is the Guild of Food Writers' Food Writer of the Year 2018