Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘sushi’

Apr 10

Shovel Time: Sushi Ya

I had a mid-life epiphany a few years ago, one that I am only coming to terms with now: I don’t actually like writing about how food tastes. Obviously, I care about how food tastes–untasty food is very upsetting–and I have the critical facilities to describe dishes for paid assignments, but I’m more naturally inclined to write about atmosphere or the hows and whys.

And honestly, taste doesn’t appear to be the motivation behind the bulk of mainstream food content anyway. Food blogs are dying a slow death because people prefer pictures over words. Well, also because people like streams of content now, not going to a zillion individual sites, which by the way, RSS feeds did perfectly (I still use them for work and sometimes pleasure). Instagram is where you show off.

Which is why I’ve turned my attention elsewhere. But allow me one last superficial update on my Japan trip that took place a full four months ago.

In 2016, I did my first Tokyo sushi splurge at Sushi Tokami. In 2017, Sushi Ya (sometimes spelled Sushiya, which is just the generic term for a sushi restaurant which makes Googling not easy). These are high-end, not normal every day sushi restaurants, but not the tier where you need to be a regular or have an in to score a reservation. Even so, you can’t make a reservation yourself because Japanese don’t like to deal with foreigners, which would get blowback in the US but somehow adds to the mythos of these specialized restaurants where you’ll easily spend a few hundred dollars per person. Also, many including Sushi Ya don’t even have websites. Good luck trying to call. I tried that at Tokami, got an English-speaker, and was told I would have to go through a hotel. Shrug emoji.

Which is why it was so mind-blowing that a party of four middle-aged women who I’m pretty certain, who were Chinese but not necessarily from mainland China, did everything you’re not supposed to do at these very rule-oriented places. I cringed when one mentioned up front that she “Didn’t want too much raw fish.” Um, in a sushi omakase meal? Then left half-eaten pieces on her plate and talked on her cell phone while sitting at the counter. You’re not even supposed to talk on cell phones on the subway! The chef (Takao Ishiyama) is relatively young, and clearly good-natured, because I was fearful that they would get thrown out. There might have been a bigger problem if there were any Japanese diners present. There weren’t. Only me and my guest and a solo man, Asian but not Japanese. (For some reason, I always assume that non-Japanese Asians in Japanese sushi bars are Singaporean because they are into food that way.) This behavior is one of the reasons why it’s hard for foreigners to get reservations and need to go through concierges as if somehow that vets out boorishiness. Believe me, I tried to use concierges from my fancy Amex and the Park Hyatt (two free nights!) to snag hard-to-get tables. I was told they no longer could help with wagyu paradise, Sumibiyakiniku Nakahara, because foreigners no-showed too many times. 

Anyway, I couldn’t even begin to recall the precise details of all of the courses. That’s the point, right? Below are the notes I quickly typed as the sushi was served. 

Bonito lightly smoked. Super rich and buttery.

Snow crab. Fresh seawater flavor.

Cod milt creamy clam chowdery

Tuna cheek. Rich but tart sauce.

Mackerel.

Botarga with rice cake. Bitter

Monkfish liver with pickles. Amazing. Foie gras.

Sea perch nodoguro

Red snapper firm mild

Wild yellowtail. Citrus tart rice strongly vinegared.

Chu toro medium fatty tuna  

O toro

Mystery tuna

Squid with hit of lime

Shrimp

Kohada shad. Firm. Maybe lightly pickled

? Green pesto Shiso scallion? Aji horse mackerels

 

? Clam?

Eel

Winter melon kampiyo

* * *

Ok, so I don’t see the winter melon and I didn’t even mention the uni or tamago. Clearly, that was an epic parade of sea creatures but I can’t even begin to convey that. That’s fine.

I’ve since eaten sushi at upscale for Queens, Daizen, Sushi Ginza Onodera, and Satsuki (above, fresh because it was just the other night) and I only feel the need to mention those in passing, which is freeing.

Sushi Ya * 1F Yugen Bldg., Chuo 104-006, Tokyo, Japan

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Share on Tumblr
Email

Jan 20

Shovel Time: Sushi Tokami

fourshovelThis was not a sushi-splurging vacation (especially since I was spotting my boyfriend–yes, I’ve entered the future Judge Judy litigant stage of the relationship).  But it would be a shame to travel to Tokyo and not experience stellar sushi.

Saito, Sawada, Sukiyabashi Jiro, and that ilk was out of the question. I wavered among the second still-celebrated tier: Sushiya, Sushi Iwa, or Tokami. Lunch at all those three were supreme values. It wasn’t the cost holding me back, or the exclusivity (no one’s going Saito except select regulars) but the inability to score a reservation.

There’s not really an OpenTable in Japan. You can’t request reservations by email. I tried a workaround with the Gurunavi (free!) reservation service for restaurants on their site (Iwa) and of course you have to call–Japan has not got the memo that phones are only for texting now–and I was told they couldn’t make reservations at Michelin starred restaurants. I resorted to calling Tokami after practicing a few Japanese phrases. The women answering replied curtly and in English, “We don’t take reservations from tourists. Your hotel has to call.” If you’re staying at an Airbnb, you’re shit out of luck. I was trying to get to the bottom of this reluctance and the phrase “liability” was bandied about on message boards from those in my same desperate situation. I interpreted that as restaurants don’t want to deal with no-shows, non-local phone numbers, and somehow a hotel concierge, possibly with access to your credit card, is the only guarantee you’ll arrive as you’d promised. 

Anyway, way too much detail, but I finally realized that my Chase Sapphire Reserve card (that made this whole trip possible, amazing business class round-trip included) had a concierge service. Even that was a whole lot of rigmarole and being sent a list of etiquette rules like it’s rude to be late (I’m obsessed with punctuality so), perfume is frowned upon, and so on.

IMG_1159

Anyway again, I settled on Tokami because the chef, Hiroyuki Sato, reportedly was relatively young, spoke English, and had a more playful, less stoic demeanor. And it was the perfect choice. Lunch was roughly $120 (tip included, of course) for 16 pieces of sushi (smaller omakases are available). Tokami is a tuna specialist, so we were treated to three cuts of tuna, all levels of fattiness, which practically justified the cost of admission. Hokkaido uni also made an appearance, and the meal was rounded out with a torched tamago, almost like creme brulee, the chef’s signature.

I’m not going to detail every nuance but I can’t let these photos only exist on my hard drive. The rice, which resembles brown rice, is a darker hue because the chef uses red vinegar, a traditional edo-mae style that’s kind of polarizing. I didn’t think it overwhelmed the delicacy of the fish.

tokami grid

 

These were my notes:

Smoked bonito
Flounder
Squid
Scallop
Chūtoro (medium fatty)
Akami (“regular” bluefin–interesting that it was not a straight line from lean to fatty)
Ōtoro (fatty tuna)
Kohada/shad
Ikura/roe
Ebi/shrimp
Kisu (?)
Ikura (not sure how this was different from the above roe)
Clam
Yellowtail
Uni from Hokkaido
Rock/black (?)
Anago/eel
Miso soup
Tuna handroll
Tamago

IMG_1160

I never take photos with chefs. I was just going to take chef Sato’s photo, but he wanted us to join in–and very social media-savvy, he suggested I hold up the nameplate of the restaurant that normally would hang behind our heads. Win-win.

He sent us off with the name of his former sous chef who’d started working at Azabu in NYC. The week prior, though, Azabu lost its Michelin star and Sushi Inuoue, that’s helmed by a former Azabu chef (and my good friend’s sort-of-boyfriend), was just granted one. I can’t decide where to go next. (Ok, neither–I just went to Tanoshi under the guise of checking out the new Second Ave. subway.)

Sushi Tokami * Ginza 8-2-10 | Ginza Seiwa Silver Building B1F, Chuo 104-0061, Tokyo, Japan

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Share on Tumblr
Email

Jan 14

3 Comments

Shovel Time: Tanoshi Sushi

tanoshi grid

I spent Christmas truly alone this year and it was surprisingly fun. This isn’t something I’ve brought up because it makes me defensive, and it wasn’t until I received the email earlier this week from Dirt Candy announcing “Solo Diners Week,” meant to counter the Valentine’s onslaught, that I gave it more thought. Sure, I guess it’s sad on some level to dine alone on Valentine’s Day, but not everyone is coupled up and really anyone who wants to go out eat on February 14 (unless it’s Dallas BBQ, obviously) is asking for trouble, whereas dining alone on Christmas is just straight up pathetic because who doesn’t have friends and family?

* * *

Some people are mildly horrified when they hear this and begin secretly judging you differently than when they met you hours ago as you were trying to hold their attention with animated stories. An impression that you’re a suspicious decision-maker with no ties has already been imprinted when they convince you to walk the three blocks to their apartment after the New Year’s Eve party instead of the bus stop where you intended to go even though they are not 100% single.

Some people think it’s normal enough not to comment like the stranger who also didn’t go home for Christmas who you’ve been texting with sporadically for over a month and plan to meet at my favorite extinct-on-the-East-Coast chain restaurant in a few weeks when you finally do visit family in Oregon because you’re not a monster.

Some too-young stranger you have no rapport with and have never met texts you something benign on Christmas morning when you’re still in bed and you think that’s creepy because he should probably be spending time with his parents so you ignore him.

 * * *

 

This was the first year the words “I hate Christmas” came out of my mouth even though I’ve hated Christmas for at least the past 15 years. I never considered myself a Scrooge despite my ex-boyfriend calling me one because I wouldn’t participate in decorating the tree he’d buy in the Western Beef parking lot right before ditching me to head to his parents’ in a D.C. suburb where I was never once invited in over a decade. I was the only one who ever saw the tree on Christmas.  And then it would stick around pissing me off right up until Super Bowl like a desiccated guest who’d long overstayed its welcome.

Some years I’d throw orphan parties. Some years I’d go out to eat with friends. This was the first year I made zero overtures. It was a weird year. I wasn’t going to go out at all, partially to try and save a little money for vacation. But an unexpected raise coupled with the fear of becoming a shut-in (too late) had me scrambling for a counter seat  experience that would be just right i.e. special but not baller (we’re talking maybe two nice-ish dinners a month raise not Powerball money).

Oh yeah, Tanoshi. I wouldn’t say I follow the NYC sushi scene closely, and I kind of hate talking about sushi because I don’t have the vocabulary, but even casually observing I’d say there has been a recent trend toward the luxe and maybe even the bombastic. That’s not Tanoshi, which I haven’t heard much about since 2013 when everyone was going nutso about the bargain priced omakase being served in a small, understated storefront in Yorkville with an impossible reservation system that possibly added to the lore.

It’s still bare bones, just ten seats, and an ideal candidate for the Second Avenue subway, but you can now reserve online. The price has risen thirty dollars to $80, but it’s still BYOB, and I would argue still a bargain.

And it was great. Not precious and exactly what I needed. (Last year around Christmas, but not on the 25th because I wasn’t fully embracing real holiday aloneness yet, I splurged on Momofuku Ko with wine pairings, and while lovely, that kind of experience demands a high level of attention and energy, and honestly, tasting menus can be agitating when maybe you just want to zone out. Not to mention that I’m kind of over spending that kind of money on ephemera.) I didn’t take copious notes and I’m not going to regale you with descriptions of scored flesh or how the warm, vinegared rice almost managed to taste buttered when melded with fattier pieces of fish. I also felt a little anxious taking photos, which I did for my own memory not to demonstrate any skills, obviously–I was semi-seriously warned I had three seconds–because this style of sushi is loosely packed and falls apart quickly, no time for fussing around.

A rhythm developed. Listen, quickly snap, pick-up with fingers, cram into mouth and slowly savor the whole piece while trying to stay in the moment even if only ten seconds. Done. Sip some sake, nibble a slice of pickled ginger. Chill. Repeat.

Kelp-cured fluke, marinated big eye tuna, cured king salmon, winter mackerel, cherry blossom leaf amberjack, miso marinated black sable, uni (Hokkaido or US, I don’t recall, though I want to say Maine) saltwater eel, fatty tuna with yuzu pepper, spicy toro.

Then three extras a la carte: kani miso a.k.a. crab brains, not unlike lobster tomalley, bittersweet guts really; the halfbeak just because I thought the name was cute and the presentation, two spirals, more than met my expectations; then ending with the nodoguro/black throat, suggested because I asked for something rich and unctuous.

lady sushi chefs

Really what was cool, and that I was vaguely aware of, is that while Toshio Oguma is the head chef, half the restaurant is served by Oona Tempest, who I’m not sure is a full-fledged chef yet or what that even entails, but no matter because it’s so rare seeing a woman behind a sushi counter and Tanoshi has two (Alex, left, is apprenticing).

* * *

It was truly the best potentially worst Christmas ever. Afterwards, warmed from my small bottle of chilled sake, I stopped by 7-Eleven for cigarettes on the way to Seamstress because it was close and a real cocktail bar open on Christmas and a woman resembling a younger Kathy Bates was rampaging the aisles and yelling at both of the young Latino men on duty, “Where is the hard candy?!” My first instinct was fist-clenching anger and I wasn’t even working there and then I made eye contact with the cashier and said, “So, where’s the hard candy?” and we both started laughing and then I couldn’t stop as if I felt more high than drunk and became the new crazy lady in the store.

Maybe it was the 60 degree weather. Maybe I was just out of my element. I was definitely happy to have left the house and to have not turned into someone harassing people trying to make a living on a major holiday. Eventually, I ended up drinking a beverage garnished with a candy cane and marshmallow Christmas tree and aggressively making out with a grown man wearing glitter nail polish and eyeliner who caught my attention by talking about the ups and downs of NYC co-op ownership, neither thing I anticipated ever happening on the Upper East Side on Christmas. It all happened because of sushi. I’m pretty sure.

Tanoshi Sushi * 1372 York Ave., New York, NY 

 

 

 

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It
Share on Tumblr
Email