Sushi

Akagai: Red Clam

Most Japanese don’t eat sushi.  Or if they do, it’s store-bought.  Sushi is perishable and expensive, so usually saved for special occasions.  Though these days, the cheaper (and lower quality) sushi-in-the-round is rapidly replacing traditional sushi restaurants.  In fact, single owner sushiya are dying at an alarming rate.  They just can’t survive.  Even up-scale Tsukiji fish market based small chain sushiya are closing up shop.  Why?

It’s all about value.  I’d rather go to a good sushi shop once a year, than a mediocre one once a month.  But then, I’m crazy for sushi.  And not just any sushi.  I recharge my system by sitting at the blond wood counter, in front of a glass case of raw fish, picking out and eating each selection, two small pieces at a time.  Slowly and lovingly savoring each bite as I flip the fish onto my tongue.

Shima-aji: Jack Mackerel

Toshi-san, the sushi master at my local sushiya in Palo Alto hooked me up with my first job in Japan.  The owner of the English school was also part owner of the Palo Alto sushi shop.  My first taste of sushi on Japanese soil was a letdown, to say the least.  I arrived at Narita in July of 1988.  This was pre-cell phone and pre-Tokyo bypass era.  It took us over four hours to get to Saitama by car.  I thought the guy who picked me up was kidding (not).  Knowing my love of sushi, my hosts had ordered some from a local shop for a late night supper.  Demae (takeout), especially sushi, extends an inherent feeling of generosity toward one’s guest and is often preferred over homemade food.

Although well intentioned, the round lacquer trays sat in the cupboard awaiting our arrival.  For a few hours, I imagine.  (In the heavy, muggy July weather.)  The fish was warm and slightly ripe, but I valiantly dug in.  Bad judgment lead me to try a piece piled with ikura.  The salmon eggs were tacky and unpleasantly fishy.  Luckily in those days I never ate it in one bite.  Trying not to gag, I washed down the eggs with a swig of beer and gently laid the uneaten half on my plate.  This was my first initiation into a phenomenon I have run into over and over in Japan.  The form is often more important than the content.  In other words, as good hosts, they served me my favorite food, regardless if it was practical or not.  It’s the thought that counts.  And here I am, still ungrateful after all these years.  But that’s not true.  I am grateful, though sometimes hope for more content and less form.

This disappointing induction into “Japanese sushi” lead to my obsession in finding a real sushiya.  Armed with the characters for sushi and some pointers from Japanese co-workers, I ventured out on the town but was totally baffled by the cloth hanging curtains in front of each storefront (be it restaurant or not).  I blundered up the stairs into someone’s house and the surprised (but kindly) grandmother directed me to a nearby drinking spot that also served food.  I managed to order some grossly oversized slices of yellowtail sashimi, salt-pickled napa cabbage and a beer.  At least I snared some raw fish.  Still, it wasn't sushi.  The place was raucous, smoky and not at all the peaceful haven I was seeking.  A couple nights later, tired of the sickly smell of summer festival food, I stumbled upon a teeny shop with a fish tank out front.  Hmm…could it be?  I slid open the wood and glass door, and as I poked my head through the noren cloth, the owner’s head jerked up in surprise.  Nonetheless, he was welcoming and patient as I tried to order familiar sushi.  That was when I still thought sushi was all about the little dishes that California shops serve or that ikura demands a quail egg yolk (the master got a good giggle out of that one).  Perhaps the quail yolk softens the acrid salty taste of not-so-fresh salmon eggs, but certainly adds nothing to firm eggs freshly nudged from their sac and sprinkled with a bit of sake, salt and grated yuzu peel.  These eggs burst one by one as you squeeze them between your tongue and the roof of your mouth.  These eggs don’t need the quail yolk because they’re that good.

Komochi konbu & Katsuobushi: Herring eggs laid on kelp topped with dried bonito

Sushi is one of those meals that ends with little butterflies in your stomach as you ask for the check.  That night I rang in at around $50 (phew).  When my paycheck held out (not often), I tried to visit once a week for my “fix.”  The price crept up a bit as I ate more or ordered special items like live kuruma ebi (shrimp).  Tadaaki had never been to a sushiya, so I initiated him on the ins & outs of sushi protocol:  don’t put wasabi in the soy sauce dish because it leaves an unsightly muddy mess.  Pick up the sushi with your fingers and flip it upside down, dipping one little corner of fish into the soy sauce, then pop the whole piece of sushi into your mouth, fish side down.  This sequence is crucial to immediately get the full fish taste, followed by a flash of hot wasabi and the satisfying finish of vinegared rice.  And never let stray rice grains escape into your soy sauce dish (very bad form).  Once Tadaaki joined me at the sushi counter, our per person tab went up to $100.  These days, our hole in the wall occupies a spare but elegant space that exudes calm ( 甲すし).  The sushi is still the best I’ve ever had:  “the master” is creatively gifted and truly a master of the art.  I’m fascinated with pickles and his are inspired.  It’s a 40-minute drive and of course we’re up into the $150 per person range, so somehow don’t go as often as I’d like.  Though as I write, I’m getting the urge.

Even in the U.S., I found sushi pricing to be creative.  The longer you stay (whether you eat more or not), the higher the tab.  One more reason why we eat in Tsukiji-based small chain shops in Tokyo. There is less uncertainty and less need to worry once you know the basic price for what you regularly eat (and drink).  It’s nice to know you can eat your fill and bring the kids as well, without racking up a $500 bill.  Our favorite shop closed recently, but we’ve found its sister shop (a cut above, so of course more expensive).  So far, we’ve only gone two at a time as the boys have healthy appetites and my pocketbook is lean.   竹山

竹山: Chikuzan

In Japan, sushi is all about the impeccable fish.  It’s all about simplicity.  Fish + vinegared sweet rice = sushi.  That’s enough.  It’s delicate, it’s subtle…there is ritual.  Sushi is not about monster rolls or mayonnaise.  Sometimes we should just accept something as it was meant to be and not insist on pushing and prodding it to be exactly how we think it should be.  And sometimes, giving in is a relief.

Saba: Mackerel

Comments

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Brilliantly written Nancy, I'm ready to get on the next plane to visit!
Gail Mayo

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Gail: I'm waiting for you. This is the real deal. Why else (besides my family and farm) would I stay here? Truly, my recent sushi shop visits have flushed a feeling of malaise that crept up oh so stealthily. There are some great Japanese words to cover that feeling: sukkiri or sappari shiteru. They all connote a feeling of clarity. Nancy

[Jo Lynn in Virginia]

Nancy,

Beautifully crafted- vivid details!

"Perhaps the quail yolk softens the acrid salty taste of not-so-fresh salmon eggs, but certainly adds nothing to firm eggs freshly nudged from their sac and sprinkled with a bit of sake, salt and grated yuzu peel.These eggs burst one by one as you squeeze them between your tongue and the roof of your mouth..." Your writing becomes more evocative with each blog entry; this particular passage leaves me yearning for authentic sushi- not easily found in D.C.

"Pick up the sushi with your fingers and flip it upside down, dipping one little corner of fish into the soy sauce, then pop the whole piece of sushi into your mouth, fish side down. This sequence is crucial to immediately get the full fish taste, followed by a flash of hot wasabi and the satisfying finish of vinegared rice." Practical advice in service of the aesthetic ideal!

"In Japan, sushi is all about the impeccable fish. It’s all about simplicity. Fish + vinegared sweet rice = sushi." Think about this as a chapter opening...very strong.

As always, terrific selection of photos.

Saving up for that plane ticket-spring or fall, 2010!

jl

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

J-L: Your futon is waiting and let's go to Kozushi (my first sushi shop-funny how I stumbled on the best one in this several hundred km radius-I guess I just have a nose for it). Chikuzan is also wonderful, no sense on stinting when you're here. The "sushi experience" is truly unforgettable. No need for the ashram, just eat your way to nirvana. Nancy

[Malena]

I loved this piece, Nancy. And the pictures that went with it added so much. jl already quoted lines that were my favorites as well. Some day I would love to go to this sushi-ya with you!

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Malena: I've already reserved a futon for Joanne along with J-L (no deadline here). But you've got to bring the Max-man along as I know he would love, love SSU!. Maybe as a celebration after Matt finishes grad school? Save your yen, because pennies just won't cut it.--Nancy

[Brandon]

Have I been to this sushi shop with you?

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Brandon: You've been to the sister shop: Sushi Sei. Unfortunately they closed. But this one is more conveniently located right next to Tokyo Station (my bullet train hub). It has the same fish, but slightly more upscale decor. Temakizushi at home is fun (and tasty), but nothing beats the sushiya counter experience. Are you coming for Thanksgiving?

[Fred Bierman]

Nancy: I've been eating sushi since 1981, when a 4'11" nice Jewish international karate star ex-girlfriend introduced me to the "Little O" (for Osaka) in Cambridge, MA. Ever since I've hunted for the perfect sushi bar in most every city I've ever visited where sushi is viable. And while LA is lacking in many regards, its sushi is some of the best I've found this side of the pacific. But in this nearly 30 year quest, I've NEVER till now learned that sushi is meant to be eaten ... fish side DOWN! So obvious in retrospect! I'm heading to one of my regular haunts tonight and can't WAIT to rediscover life, thanks to you. I agree with the posters above: your writing gets better and better. Bravo! I'll take the futon after the others have vacated.

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Fred: Great to hear from you via the blog and loved your sushi story. It looks like we both share that long love of sushi. I almost ate it in Puerto Vallarta, then thought better of it. I had sushi once in LA at a little place recommended by a friend from the SF days. It was in a funky area--I'm thinking strip mall. But the fish was top notch. The chef had attitude and was fairly disdainful when I ordered taro (torono imo with maguro, yolk & nori). I lost confidence that I was using the correct term and backed off. He also gave me something with mayonnaise (not my favorite flavor). Glad I could open up a whole new world of tasting sushi, and I agree it makes so much sense. And your futon is waiting as well.