MORI Japanese Bar

MORI means forest in Japanese, a name that lets this Wortley Village izakaya speak to London’s Forest City identity before the first plate lands. The connection is more than a signboard flourish: it sets up a restaurant shaped by Japanese-bar ritual and a neighbourhood operator’s local roots. Meals refuse the familiar starter-to-main march. Plates leave the kitchen as they are ready, so dinner becomes a sequence assembled at the table—clean raw fish, crisp skewers, a hot bowl, then another small plate when the group sees where the order wants to go. There is room for cocktails, beer or sake along the way, but the food controls the tempo. That rolling rhythm is MORI’s clearest introduction.

The MORI Sashimi Combo gives that rhythm a precise first beat. Ten pieces move through salmon, tuna, scallop and botan ebi, bringing different textures onto one plate without reducing the raw-fish side of the menu to a roll call. Salmon Truffle takes a more composed route, placing the fish beside a small salad and an aromatic accent. Tuna Tartare shifts again: cubed tuna, avocado and tomato meet garlic ponzu, a brighter, softer counterpoint to clean slices of sashimi. The point is contrast, not spectacle: scallop and botan ebi keep their delicacy, while truffle and ponzu widen the raw-fish section without smothering its centre. Together, the plates show a kitchen using raw fish in several registers—plainspoken, dressed and finely cut—while keeping each preparation legible. Garlic ponzu gives the tuna-and-avocado mixture its edge.

Then the menu changes temperature and texture. The MORI Set turns kushikatsu into a shared mixed order of shrimp, beef, sweet potato, asparagus, pumpkin, cheese and shishito pepper, each skewer changing the bite without breaking the flow. The vegetable set concentrates that idea around the garden, while Ebi Mayo supplies prawn tempura with creamy mayo. Tako Wasabi brings octopus, seaweed and a bracing wasabi marinade; Agedashi Tofu offers a softer landing. Chicken karaage and okonomiyaki keep familiar reference points within reach, but they do not define the order. The Bulgogi Bowl and Japanese braised pork belly with vegetables push farther into comfort, so sashimi and skewers never have to carry the entire meal. These plates are the working vocabulary of the izakaya format, giving a table crunch, heat and richness as each one arrives. Mori Udon is the steadying last word: soy-based broth, fish cake and torched beef.

The restaurant’s sequence has a neighbourhood history behind it. Jinju (Jully) Lee established nearby Roll Roll in 2018 before MORI followed in 2023, widening her Wortley Village story from sushi into a licensed Japanese bar and restaurant with hot cooking, small plates, indoor dining and an outdoor component. The newer restaurant did not discard the local connection that came first. Lee chose a Japanese word for forest as a gesture toward London’s Forest City identity, turning the name into a compact account of how MORI belongs here. The owner story stays appropriately focused: one restaurateur, two nearby businesses and a format built to give the second restaurant its own appetite. In Wortley Village, “forest” reads as both a Japanese word and a London place-name.

A MORI dinner works in arcs rather than courses. Sashimi establishes clarity; kushikatsu brings crunch and momentum; a bowl of udon or bulgogi rice steadies the spread; smaller plates create the turns between them. The range never needs to become a catalogue because the service style supplies an order of its own: share what is ready, notice what the table needs next, and let contrast do the arranging. Several appetites can find their route without erasing the differences between dishes. Botan ebi, shishito pepper, garlic ponzu and torched beef keep their particular characters even when they share the same meal. The meal can finish on a compact choice—green-tea or red-bean mochi ice cream—after all that motion between raw, fried and brothy.