A Life Worth Eating » Tokyo

Tapas Molecular Bar Revisited

Adam — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 21:29:43 +0000

The 7-seat Tapas Molecular Bar in the sky lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Tokyo is the home of chef Jeff Ramsey, formerly of Minibar in Washington D.C. My first meal in 2008, while delicious, featured many of the same dishes featured at Minibar. I think a lot of this was due to the newness of the restaurant and the difficulty in finding its place. It’s no easy task to integrate new molecular techniques with traditional Japanese cuisine. However now, two years later, this restaurant has really found its niche in its surroundings and thoroughly impressed me with innovative, delicious, and really fun cuisine.

One aspect of the Molecular Bar that makes the experience so fun is its chefs. Instead of creating an environment in which interactivity is passive-aggressively shunned, chef Ramsey and his team explained the back story of each dish and how it related to Japanese culture. This was particularly crucial for the nostaligic dishes as many of the diners did not grow up in Japan. Questions were encouraged, and frankly, this in-depth understanding of the food I was eating really added another dimension to the meal’s enjoyment. Not only did I learn a tremendous amount about the food and its preparation, but I felt like I was eating a story with each course.

Glögg – A small amuse bouche shot glass of the Scandinavian spiced Christmas drink.

Chupa Tapas – A candied foie gras pâté shaped and wrapped to look like a Chupa Chups lollypop. This was unbelievable, and possibly the best thing I’ve tasted in awhile. Eaten in one bite, the crunchy sugar shell cracks into a crispy brittle adding textural contrast to the smooth and creamy foie gras. The rich flavor in combination with the caramel flavored sweetness was incredible.

Tai Chazuke – Chazuke is a Japanese soup made from green tea, dashi broth, and rice. It is often topped with dried seaweed, pickled vegetables, fish roe, and other salty and sometimes sour savory ingredients. Like porridge, this dish is a way to utilize leftover rice as the water re-hydrates it. In this dish a lean slice of sea bream was served alongside a spherified tea ball with crunchy miso beads. In the mouth the ingredients combine and re-create the nostaligic flavor of Chazuke. This was a pretty original concept.

Bacalao Espuma – A shot glass of cod foam layered with tomato puree and a small bread crisp to add textural contrast. The salty cod foam spread like whipped cream on the crouton, the tomato added a hint of sweetness. This was quite good.

Chef Ramsey demonstrating the spherification technique. This technique, originally conceived by El Bulli, is used here to create a dish that looks like caviar. The spheres form when sodium alginate is dripped into a cold calcium chloride solution forming a skin over the liquid beads.

Roast Pepper Caviar - This was a dish more about the concept than the flavor. The texture was similar to caviar, though not identical. For me the defining fingerprint of caviar is a briny and salty flavor in combination with a cold temperature and burst-in-your-mouth consistency. This dish had none of those, so while the concept was playful it was still far from caviar. I also don’t really like the flavor of sweet red pepper. This was my least favorite course of the night.

Sushi – Cubed tuna tartar atop a rice foam. In the mouth the ingredients mixed creating an identical flavor profile to tuna sashimi. This was a really great concept.

Black truffle and lily bulb – This was an exceptional dish. A light and fluffy lily froth garnished with caramelized garlic and fragrant black truffle shavings. The nutty and pasty chunks of lily bulb at the bottom — a bit like chestnut without the sweetness — added a creaminess without making the soup too rich. The warm fragrance from the truffle really brought everything together.

King crab and uni – A light and fresh followup to the previous course. A variation of this dish was served at my previous meal here called “Red.” Unlike last time, however, this dish had focus and the ingredients really worked well together. The simple tomato-infused jelly brought out some of the latent vegetal flavor of the crab. The uni added sweetness.

Kasago – Roasted scorpion fish with a dried miso powder and crispy skin “chicharron.”

Lobster, potato, and Vanilla – Butter-poached lobster with a potato gnocchi and vanilla broth. The aroma of the vanilla with the butter gave the lobster a lighter and sweeter flavor.

Secreta de Iberico – Iberian cured ham covered in a cloud of smoke. The smoking process happened in front of our eyes as the chef explained the dish.

Xiaolongbao – Traditionally a type of steamed bun from eastern China, also known as “soup dumplings.” The dumplings are stuffed with broth and are usually eaten with a spoon to collect the bouillon as it spills out. Similarly, the lamb rib was filled with jus creating a natural dumpling. When eaten in one bite the juice mixes with the already moist meat making this chop taste even sweeter.

Wagyu – Thick wedges of wagyu beef with baby carrot and greens.

Miso soup – A spherified ball of dashi broth served alongside miso marbles and dusted with dried nori powder. In the mouth the ingredients mixed creating the texture and flavors of miso soup.

Snow – A light peanut mousse covered with nut brittle.

Petits fours – A sacher torte of apricot jam inside of chocolate cake with a clear candy dome encasing, a miniature mont blanc (a fresh chestnut cream dessert), a thin slice of cinnamon toast, and a small effervescent pink disc called “raspberry soda.” Last was a black truffle flavored chocolate truffle. The smell of the truffle coming from the chocolate was immediately noticeable.

Fruits – Lemon, lime, and strawberry. First, Chef Ramsey instructed us to taste a lime to ensure its sourness. We then chewed on the miracle fruit for thirty seconds without any indication of what it would do to our tastebuds. Afterwards, we popped the sour lemon and limes like they were the sweetest fruits imaginable. The miracle fruit prevented our tongue from tasting sour leaving behind only the sweet taste of sugar.

My recent meal told a story. This meal was no hodgepodge of ingredients forming disjoined courses. Many of the dishes invoked memories of Japanese comfort food only told from a different perspective. The fast-paced service kept the twenty-course meal alive and exciting. This was an edible show, and it tasted really good.

This is certainly one of the coolest restaurants in Tokyo right now. I can’t wait to go back.

Ten-ichi

Adam — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 02:17:36 +0000

It wasn’t until I visited Japan that I truly liked tempura.

Outside of Japan, tempura batter is thick and greasy — often soggy and wet — making this deep-fried food taste more like sloppy, oily leftovers. I can’t begin to count the number of times I’ve tasted shrimp tempura and had the plump tempura shell separate from the shellfish, or a piece of broccoli tempura that oozes fat like a sponge wringing out water. Most of the time, especially in the US, tempura is fried food gone very wrong.

At Ten-ichi, tempura is light and fluffy. Each piece of fish or vegetable is individually flash-fried at such a high temperature that the oil barely has little chance to penetrate the food. The batter is thin and weightless, completely integrating with the food: it would be nearly impossible to separate it.

Ten-ichi tempura, in Ginza, is one of my favorite places for tempura. Diners sit around a counter where a highly-skilled chef fully concentrates on each piece — one at a time — ensuring perfect temperature and timing while frying. The flash-fried food is then immediately handed to diners before it has a chance to get soggy, which would be impossible if eaten at a table.

The menu has several tasting options, each of which varies in terms of quantity. Ten-ichi is a reminder that deep-fried food has a place in fine dining. This is the first time that I had a glass of white wine with a tempura dinner. Each piece of fish and vegetable is dipped in tentsuyu, or a combination of dashi broth, soy sauce, mirin, and sugar mixed with freshly grated white radish. Alternatively, some fish can be dipped in salt and squeezed with a few drops of fresh lemon, this worked particularly well for the white fish.

Today’s menu - Asparagus, Eggplant, Scallions, Ginko Nuts, Lotus Root, Scallops, White Fish, Squid, and Shitake Mushroom.

The chef flash-fries each piece of tempura individually – The temperature of the oil is so hot, and its clarity so pristine, that the fish does not have a chance to absorb much of the oil. The oil forms a paper-thin irregularly shaped coating around the fish and vegetables adding a layer of crunch.

Shrimp tempura – Light and fluffy, this batter is full of air pockets and blisters. The batter is completely bound to the shrimp; it is nearly impossible to separate it. (Keep in mind that the grey spots in the above photo is the shadow of the shrimp — there is hardly any residue.)

Flash-fried scallop – The flash-frying process leaves the inside warm and translucent. The batter was able to bring out the latent umami making the scallop taste like meat.

Whole white fish – Boneless white fish eaten in its entirety. The frying process renders the tail and its small bones crispy and edible. This was outstanding, not in the least bit salty.

Mango – Dessert is a few bites of a perfectly ripe mango. No ice-cream tempura here.

Diners enjoying counter-style tempura.

Ten-ichi is a reminder that tempura doesn’t have to be greasy and disgusting. When done properly, flash frying can bring out the nutty flavors of fish and vegetables that is not possible with other cooking methods. Ten-ichi is a must visit; it is tempura done right.

Takamura

Adam — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 22:14:36 +0000

Over the past decade, Roppongi has become the center for Tokyo’s nightlife. Full of bars and restaurants, Roppongi is loud, bright, and full of things to do. In contrast, nestled high on one of its hills, is a small oasis named Takamura. Takamura, built over sixty years ago, is a Japanese kaiseki restaurant serving private dinners in one of its eight rooms. The service, as well as the food, are exceptional.

The architecture is traditional: wooden construction with rice paper doors and tatami mats. Diners are greeted at the door and taken to their room. The space is small and cosy, however despite the thin walls and presence of other diners, it would be hard to be convinced of their existence.

The table is a modified floor-seating arrangement with a two-foot depression into the floor. This means diners can sit at floor level without sitting uncomfortably with their legs crossed, like sitting in a chair. Underneath the table is a heated floor; so on cold winter nights with the wind howling and garden chimes softly clanging everybody inside is warm and comfortable.

Service is extremely attentive and waitresses dressed in kimonos are highly trained in grace and poise.

Crab and octopus – Our first course was crab and octopus in a citrus gelee served inside a raw orange. The rind of the orange added a hint of acidity but also bitterness helping to temper the sweetness of the glee.

Small plates – Alongside the raw shellfish salad was a collection of smaller plates. This included spinach in a sesame paste, a cold unagi (freshwater eel) cake, pickled celery with potato mousse, roasted turnip, and cooked crab wrapped in rice paper. The diverse collection of dishes, each being no more than two bites, was engaging to eat: each bite taste different.

Small fish with ginko nuts – A handful of small deep-fried fish battered in tempura with two ginko nuts. The fish were extremely fresh and when combined with the salted tempura tasted like a lot like fresh potato chips. The warm ginko nuts had a texture like chestnut with a smooth surface. In combination these were more like cocktail snacks.

Cold soba noodles - A small bowl with freshly pulled buckwheat noodles, sesame, scallion, freshly grated wasabi, and a vinegar sauce. The texture of these noodles were fantastic: chewy and elastic. The slightly rough texture on the surface helped the noodles pick up the sauce and sesame seeds. This dish was light and refreshing.

Small dried fish – A small whole cured fish sided with yuzu and pickled vegetables. The skin of the fish was left on adding a subtle taste of the ocean, concentrated by the roasting process. The inside was cool to the touch with bits of translucency. There were a lot of small bones scattered throughout which, like speed bumps, required patience and care. This was a very Japanese flavor, a bit of an acquired taste, as the mix of fishiness and sweetness takes some time to get used to. I’m still getting used to it.

Roasted taro - A thick wedge of dry-roasted taro with a drizzle of clarified butter. This was outstanding. The dark-brown blisters that formed on the exposed center of the root added a smokey element which made the surface a bit crispy. The combination of the crispy skin with the smooth pasty interior added natural textural contrast. Once sliced, the clarified butter filled all the tiny crevices polishing the consistency.

Sashimi – Medium-fatty tuna with fluke, a contrast of fatty and lean fish. The sashimi was served over ice with freshly grated wasabi and shredded daikon radish. The flavor was extremely pure and simple, providing a time to step back and reflect on the texture and flavor of each bite.

Roasted duck in its fat, scallions, and green peppers – Thick strips of duck breast roasted tableside in a block of duck fat. The sizzling of the fat, which was the first ingredient placed on the hot stone, filled the room with an exhilaratingly warm and meaty smell. The fat was then removed and the duck left to sizzle until just barely cooked. After the duck was prepared, more fat was “melted” on the stove in preparation for roasting the accompanying vegetables. The fatty duck was served with miso paste, and grated daikon radish in a ponzu sauce. Also accompanying this dish was a small salad of julienned cucumber with scallions.

The texture of the duck was phenomenal: extremely gamey tasting more like calves liver than duck. The color glowed magenta, a sign that this was perfectly cooked.

Miso soup and rice – A bowl of fluffy white rice topped with small dried fish and miso soup. The small fish atop the bed of rice salted the thick grains nicely. The miso soup had small clams at the bottom, a pleasant surprise adding an element of brine and natural salt to the soup. The pickled vegetables were light and refreshing without being sweet.

Fresh strawberries and melon - One of the marvels of Japanese cuisine is the inherent understanding of diminishing returns: the enjoyment of each course decreases with fullness. I hate leaving a restaurant feeling full, sick, and overall worse than when I arrived. With most Western tasting menus, I feel great up until the sweet dessert courses — which at many places occupy nearly half the menu — and it’s these courses that push me over the edge of comfort. Our meal finished with two incredibly sweet strawberries and a small wedge of melon.

Takamura is a respite from busy Tokyo, a spa for the mind and stomach. The tranquil environment sets the stage to concentrate on the purity of flavors of Japanese cuisine. The ingredient quality was exquisite — one of the best pieces of duck I have ever tasted.

Beige

Adam — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 01:23:55 +0000

Beige Tokyo, Alain Ducasse‘s Tokyo outpost, is located at the top of the Chanel flagship store in Ginza. The floor to ceiling windows are framed with thick black borders, much like a pair of Chanel thick-rimmed glasses. The space is decorated in beige tones bringing an element of warmth to the otherwise stark atmosphere. Waiters and waitresses quietly whisk about in custom-fitted black suits. The sleek and stylish restaurant, designed by Karl Lagerfeld, is a must-visit for fashion-conscious diners.

Beige is essentially a restaurant by a high-end designer in collaboration with Alain Ducasse. The food is also pretty good. The menu highlights traditional French ingredients, most of which are flown in from Europe. The dishes read in Alain Ducasse style with a simple ingredient made bold by a bombardment of luxurious accoutrements. The restaurant’s dishes are consistent and familiar.

Dining room of Beige, Tokyo – Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the glowing lights of Tokyo’s “Fifth Avenue,” the Ginza fashion district.

Cocktail room – Grab a drink before the meal begins

Gougères – Warm and airy cheese puffs, straight from the oven.

Preserved foie gras, sour apple, quince marmalade – A stick of foie gras pâté with sour apple and quince for acidity. This went great with the warm bread rolls.

Foie gras and chestnut-filled ravioli, sauteed vegetables, duck bouillon – Thin pockets of ravioli filled with creamy foie gras. The duck bouillon was a bit salty which was fine when eaten in combination with the chestnuts which needed the additional salting, but made the sweetness of the liver tough to taste.

Sea scallops, quickly seared, lettuce cream flavored with hazelnut butter, shaved white truffle – A giant sea scallop atop a bed of creamy lettuce puree and rich hazelnut butter. The combination of the hazelnut butter with the strong scent of the white truffle was intoxicating. The scallop was almost an afterthought, a small baguette with hazelnut butter and white truffle is all this dish really needed.

Farm-raised egg cooked “en cocotte,” butternut squash trompettes, mushrooms and white truffle – This was a dish that sounded better on the menu. There was too much “noise” distracting from the thick and runny egg yolks — they were barely detectable amongst the sea of crouton bits and cream sauce.

Langoustines roasted with black pepper, celery/pineapple flavoured in a coco/curry sauce – A firm tail of Brittany lobster over a coconut and curry-infused lobster reduction. This was delicious. The intensity of the sauce was much like a strong lobster bisque, only with a hint of sweet curry — almost like a nutty nutmeg flavor. The lobster was quite firm though not overcooked, a property of the Breton lobster.

Bresse chicken, seasonal vegetables, black truffle sauce with grated truffles – A thick chunk of Bresse chicken breast with turnip, carrot, and black truffle. The chicken was really dry which made it tough to enjoy this course. The truffles also lacked fragrance. This was my least favorite course of the night.

Cheese plate:
- Beaufort with dried grape, apricot, jujube palm, and fig.
- Roves des Garrigues, tappenade of black olives
- Bleau d’auvergne, endives, salad with walnut marmelade
- Munster, flavored with cumin, gewurztraminer jelly

Raspberry sablé with almond - A thin raspberry-flavored wafer with a weightless almond cake, topped with fresh raspberries, caramel, and a raspberry sauce. This was light and its hint of acidity welcome after a string of heavy main dishes.

Roasted apple with chestnut ice cream – This dish just tasted like the fall. Warm apples with cinnamon, caramel, nutmeg, and a generous scoop of chestnut ice cream.

Petits fours

Marshmallows

Pot de crème – laced with a fine layer of raspberry

Chanel chocolates – Dark chocolate embossed with the Chanel logo.

Take-home macarons – Green “matcha” tea, passion fruit, and raspberry.

The meal was a lot of fun and I left absolutely stuffed, but I can’t say the dishes were exciting or revelatory. The restaurant seemed a bit more about style than substance with most of the dishes being familiar flavors with expensive ingredients used for the sole purpose of making the dish seem more “luxurious” without adding much to the taste.

I think it’s worth stopping by to see the space because the design really is something special. Maybe for an appetizer or small snack from the à la carte menu. But it’s hard to justify a full meal here when there are so many more exciting and original places in Tokyo.

Mist

Adam — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 20:57:53 +0000

I’d always thought of ramen as a street stall kind of food. In Fukuoka, Yatai (street stalls) line crowded streets with nothing more than a short hanging curtain separating the stall from busy pedestrians. There’s definitely something romantic about trying one of these ramen stalls, particularly in the winter where the hot steam from the central pot keeps the crowded of huddled diners warm. But frankly, the backless wooden stalls get uncomfortable after awhile as the sound of traffic becomes less charming and more annoying.

There’s an increasing trend in Tokyo to take traditional street food, enhance it, and escalate it to the fine dining level. That’s exactly what Mist does. Located in on the third floor of Omotesando Hills, Mist occupies a small restaurant space paneled with granite and wood. It’s very modern. Behind the stainless steel kitchen lies scales and thermometers ensuring that every step along the way, from shaping the noodles to plating the soup, results in perfection.

Chef carefully weighs and measures quantity of ramen

Pork ramen – A dark brown broth garnished with deep-fried strips of onion, fresh scallion, and chives. The broth was nicely salted and had a strong taste of pork. The bundle of fresh scallions adds a spicy freshness and subtle crunch to each bite. Really delicious.

Inside of Kitchen – The open kitchen where diners can watch the exacting procedure with which their soup is prepared.

Pork ramen with miso broth – A bit lighter than the standard broth and garnished with a soft-boiled egg. The egg is served with a runny yolk but it cooks slowly in the broth as you eat.

Mist Ramen makes a great lunch of midday snack, particularly on cold winter days. It’s sort of a sanitized version of the traditional soup making it really foreigner friendly. It also happens to be delicious. I’ve brought a lot of people here over the years and have only received positive feedback.

Sushi Kanesaka

Adam — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 04:04:41 +0000

It’s fairly easy to find good sushi in Tokyo, but rather difficult to find exceptional sushi. Even the bento boxes at Tokyo Station, which makes for a great accompaniment on a long Shinkansen ride, are of very high quality — much higher than the average sushi quality in New York. But truly out of the ordinary sushi — the rare combination of perfect textures, temperatures, and flavors — is a rare commodity. There are only a handful of places at this level. Sushi Kanesaka is one of them.

Located in the basement floor of a nondescript building in Ginza, Sushi Kanesaka is unassuming. Its thirty-something year old chef, Shinji Kanesaka, offers no indication from talking with him that he holds two Michelin stars. He is both humble and friendly.

The restaurant only serves omakase. However Chef Kanesaka’s palette seems to prefer shellfish, which is what I would mostly order anyway. What made this restaurant so special aside from the freshness of ingredients was the fish selection: I wouldn’t have ordered anything different from what was served. Chef Shinji Kanesaka read my mind.

Fluke sashimi – Thin slices of lean fluke with a glass of Sapporo beer.

Uni sashimi – Cold, firm, milky, and sweet. Serving this so early in the meal was a sign that this was going to be a good night.

Chuo-toro sashimi – Medium fatty tuna.

Simmered ankimo – Monkfish liver in a ponzu sauce. The creaminess of the liver, with a texture similar to firm foie gras, contrasted against the bright sauce. This was exceptional.

Grilled kobashira – Small scallops dry roasted on a wooden skewer. The roasting process gave the scallops a second skin that was tougher than the translucent inside. It also added a hint of smokiness. I really liked these.

Simmered abalone before slicing – Whole abalone simmered in its seawater.

Simmered abalone – Sliced and served warm, sashimi style.

Akamai – Lean tuna brushed with soy sauce.

Toro – Full fatty tuna. This might have been the softest piece of Tuna I have ever tasted. The cold creaminess of the fish in combination with the short-lived, nose-strong spice from the wasabi sent chills down my spine.

Hamachi – Yellowtail sushi. It’s amazing how similar the texture was to the fatty tuna, only a little bit firmer.

Aji – Japanese jack mackerel. Just a hint of skin was left on.

Ika – Firm and chewy.

Kohada – A bit fishy from the brining process, but in a really good way. This was a bit more mild than saba (mackerel) and less salty. The taste of vinegar was powerful, clearing my palate for what was to come.

Uni sushi – No frills sea urchin and rice. Even the seaweed, which usually wraps around the rice preventing the urchin from spilling over, was left out. This made the texture extra creamy and sweet, as the saltiness from the seaweed was omitted. I can still taste this course in my mouth.

Akagai – Arc shell clam. Sort of looked like an octopus grabbing hold of a chunk of rice. (Or a scalp massager.) My friend actually teared while eating this. He said it was the best piece of fish he’d ever tasted in his life.

Miso cod sushi – Cod glazed and roasted in miso sauce. This was sweet and served warm.

Tekamaki – Tuna roll. Sometimes the best bites comes from a simple combination of super-crispy seaweed with warm rice.

Tamago – Egg omelette. This was sweet and custardy, more like a pâte de fruit.

Chef Kanesaka and his assistant spent most of the night cracking jokes with us, switching modes between quiet and masterful sushi chef and someone who would be a lot of fun to hang out with. This friendly and interactive demeanor really put us at ease, particularly when we had questions about the food or about sushi in general. Chef Kanesaka got as much enjoyment out of us enjoying his food as we did tasting it.

Kyubei, Ginza

Adam — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 18:22:32 +0000

Sushi is my favorite food. There’s nothing so satisfying as a slice of the freshest fish imaginable just barely brushed with soy sauce — or dusted with a pinch of salt — atop a small bed of warm rice. Omakase is a great way to enjoy this experience because it introduces the elements of surprise as well as the chef’s knowledge of the day’s best catch. But how does the chef always know what I want? Sometimes an elaborate sushi meal is too much; sometimes I want to choose a handful fish I’m craving and eat lightly. Sometimes, ordering a la carte at a sushi counter is the way to go.

Kyubei sushi, in Ginza, is perfect for diners who want to chose their own fish. The relatively informal atmosphere in combination with ease of getting a reservation at one of its five locations throughout the city makes it a good option for a last-minute dinner decision. Besides, who can object to a meal of eight pieces of unimaginably fresh sea urchin sushi? (I’ve done it before.) The fish at Kyubei is extremely fresh and the pricing much more reasonable than Sukiyabashi Jiro.

Shimaaji – Striped horse mackerel. Clean and bright.

Live Kurumaebi – Still throbbing on the rice. The gorgeous metallic-grey and silver color of the fish indicates its extreme freshness. This was sprinkled with sea salt. The flavor was not sweet and even slightly bitter, unlike amaebi, the sweeter and small shrimp variety.

Kurumaebi head – The heads of the shrimp were grilled in the back while we ate the raw body. The cooking process renders the flavor slightly sweet.

Kobashira – Small scallops lightly brushed with soy sauce. The cold and smooth scallops contrasting against the warm, dry, and crunchy seaweed is an amazing combination that must be eaten quickly. After about fifteen seconds the seaweed starts to get soggy.

Hamaguri – Lightly brushed with a sweet soy sauce that complimented the clam’s natural sweetness. This was a little more chewy than I was used to.

Shirako – Sperm sack of cod, or milt. This took awhile to get used to. The first time I tried it I couldn’t get past the creamy flavor. But the grilling process dries it a bit making the texture less milky and more crunchy on the outside. Still not my favorite dish but it can be quite good when grilled.

Botan ebi – spot prawn.

Uni – Sweet, firm, and very cold.

Natomaki – This is one of those rolls that I inexplicably crave once in awhile. Fermented soybeans wrapped with sushi rice and seaweed. The flavor is both sour and salty, the texture very sticky.

Chef preparing negamaki – Diced toro with scallions.

Anago and unagi – Grilled fresh and salt-water eel.

Tamago – Sweet and creamy. The texture was slightly dense making it more like a custard than egg cake.

Clear broth soup (dashi) with vegetables

Pickled root vegetables – I love the acidic crunch these vegetables give. It’s refreshing without any sugar.

White radish with shiso leaf and pickled plum paste, sprinkled with sesame - The perfect dessert after a sushi meal. The shiso made the pickled plum paste taste sweet.

Kyubei’s multiple locations through Tokyo in combination with its slightly less formal atmosphere makes it a great destination for ordering a la carte sushi. The chefs at Kyubei generally speak good english and are quick to show a smile. The fish quality is excellent: still some of the best fish available in Tokyo.

Sukiyabashi Jiro Revisited

Adam — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 21:31:28 +0000

My first visit to Sukiyabashi two years ago was one of the best sushi meals of my life. The meal’s beauty lies in its apparent simplicity: just rice and fish. Of course this is deceiving. The exquisite sushi is the amalgam of impeccable ingredients and skill, from the hand-selected blend of rice and its meticulous steaming, to the exacting ratio of fish to rice and the timing with which it’s served. Even the luke-warm temperature of the rice and its precise grain count per piece, as well as the sushi’s position on the plate, is no accident. Chef Jiro Ono, Japanese living legend, is perhaps the world’s greatest sushi chef.

The atmosphere of Sukiyabashi Jiro seemed more relaxed and comfortable than the last time. While both the chef and his son were friendly and engaging in 2008 food photography — no matter how subtle — seemed to make them a bit uncomfortable. Two years later and chef Ono was smiling and welcoming photos. The sushi bar also seemed to have more foreigners. During my last meal I was the only foreigner at the table. Considering my meal in 2010 was on the exact same day as in 2008, it’s unlikely a seasonal difference. This is probably due to its Michelin 3* rating permeating out, as well as the increase in internet publicity.

Empty seats at the best sushi counter in Tokyo.

Chef Jiro Ono using his palm to consistently measure the quantity of rice per piece. He never lets his assistants measure the rice as over the decades he learned how to use only his palm as an exact measuring tool. Another’s palm would introduce inconsistency to the portioning.

Hirame

Sumi-ika – Sliced thin and glazed with soy sauce. The ika was served very cold and at this temperature developed a texture that “snips” in your mouth. It was incredible. Very few places serve sumi-ika with such a texture. Kozue, at the Park Hyatt, is another one.

Inada – Very young yellowtail that has not yet developed most of its fat. The result is a concentrated flavor of yellowtail that is extremely lean.

Akami – Super-lean tuna. This slice reminded me that it’s possible to have a melt-in-your-mouth texture with very little fat content.

Oo-toro – very fatty tuna. The warm and porous thick-grained rice absorbed a lot of the fat.

Kohada – A bit fishy from the brining process, but in a really good way. This was a bit more mild than saba (mackerel) and less salty, but still had a pasty interior. I really liked this, even though I was generously given two extra pieces by my dining companions.

Akagai – Red-shelled clam. The color is red due to its abundance of hemoglobin and iron. This was one of my favorite slices of the night — it was playful to chew and tasted like lobster.

Aji – One of my favorite fish, clean and bright with a slightly rigid texture.

Kuruma-ebi – Oh god. Absolutely incredible. The softness of the shrimp was a lot like langoustine. My only regret was not being able to eat the head.

Hamaguri – Lightly brushed with a sweet soy sauce that complimented the clam’s natural sweetness at the expense of holding back some of its brine. The texture had so many ruffles and edges that it was at once light and firm.

Saba – This slice of mackerel was served with only a thin slice of skin really helping to cut down on its inherently fishy taste. This was absolutely the best slice of mackerel I’ve ever had.

Shako – This mantis shrimp is the only piece of fish this evening that I didn’t like. Actually I hated the texture of it. Aside from the very fishy crayfish-like taste, the texture was sandy, brittle, and dry. I’ve tried shako a few times and have never liked it; it’s just a texture I can’t get used to.

Sayori – This long and thin fish was sliced to resemble an exotic deep-sea creature. The flavor was exceptional, a cross between aji and squid.

Uni – While I rarely don’t like sea urchin, for whatever reason it didn’t seem as fresh as the last time. The urchin was beginning to lose its shape and melt down the sides of the seaweed. I noticed this was served from the end of the wooden box in which sea urchin usually comes; it was probably sitting around a bit longer than it should have been.

Kobashira – Small trough-shell scallop. Not as sweet as larger scallops with more brine.

Ikura – Practically saltless. There was little burst as the skin of each egg was so thin and fresh. The eggs basically disintegrated on their own from the heat of my mouth.

Anago – Absolutely the best piece of saltwater eel I have ever tasted. I can literally smell it — the distinct buttered-toast smell — as I type this.

Tamago – light and fluffy, like pound cake.

Musk Melon – For dessert we were transferred to an adjacent table and served green tea and musk melon. Absolutely the sweetest and juiciest melon I’ve ever tasted.

After the omakase was finishsed the chef asked if I wanted to repeat any other pieces. This was probably a mistake. I had two more pieces of uni, two more ikura, two more arcshell clam, and another kuruma-ebi. The second time around the uni was much fresher and at the level of quality for which I remembered it.

Portrait of Chef Jiro Ono

This was an incredible experience — even the second time around — and is an absolute must-visit for anyone in Tokyo who is truly passionate about sushi. For some reason I remember my first experience here being slightly more magical, but I’m comfortable dismissing that as a result of already knowing what to expect.

The meal was essentially flawless. Chef Ono is approaching his mid-eighties so be sure to visit quickly as he is not only one of the best sushi chefs in Tokyo but likely the oldest.

Pierre Gagnaire, Tokyo

Adam — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 18:23:08 +0000

My last meal at Pierre Gagnaire, Paris was a roller coaster. Lots of ups and downs and by the end of service I was left holding on to my chair in confusion. Any great restaurant has to take risks in the kitchen to achieve something great. But my original experiences were like a lottery, and after three meals at Gagnaire Paris, I kept losing.

Pierre Gagnaire Tokyo, in some ways, was the complete opposite. There were few risks. Everything was consistent. This is good in the sense that no single course was particularly disappointing; bad, however, that nothing was exceptional. Exceptional cuisine balance risk-taking and spontaneity with consistency, and it’s no easy task. My meal here was an extremely toned-down version of my meal in Paris.

Pierre Gagnaire Tokyo closed for a bit and recently re-opened at the top of the ANA Intercontinental Hotel. This meal took place at the original location, directly across the street from Prada Aoyama.

Amuses bouches with wine.

Langoustine salpicon with melanosporum black truffles, Shellfish wurtz, ice plant, and Japanese pearls. The ice plant was interesting: thin green leaves coasted with crispy translucent bubbles that bursted in your mouth. The wurtz was light and airy tasting almost like a lobster bisque.

Abalone and Meishan ham grilled with sage, braised lettuce heart, chorizo, and crispy lard. The texture of the abalone was fantastic: firm with a hint of crispiness on the edges.

Roasted Amadai snapper “with crispy scales,” sea urchin velouté. The cracking skin of the snapper almost looked like pomelo seeds. The texture was crispy but moist from the high fat content. The velouté glowed a golden yellow from the sea urchin, which filled every crevice of the skin. This was delicious.

Sea urchin with “soba sauce jelly,” crunchy turnips, Nori seaweed flakes. This was clean, fresh, and bright. The mild and slightly salty soba jelly set the stage for the natural sweetness of the sea urchin. This was the highlight course of the night.

Foie gras pan-fried with green pepper, pear-raisins-celeriac marmalade, western burdock with pomegranate juice. This was very fatty and greasy. The acidity of the pomegranate helped to break up the fatty mouthfeel a bit, but I thought this was missing some kind of absorbant bread or fruit to soak up the oils from the liver.

Prime cut of grilled Hitachi beef lacquered with red wine sauce, cuttlefish with lime, onion confit with watercress. Gagnaire’s use of sweet red wine sauces and meat is truly exceptional. The sauce was bright and fruity and not at all cloying. It developed a sweet caramel taste in combination with the fatty meat. The cuttlefish was chewy and firm, much like the texture of thinly sliced abalone. The lime zest added a touch of fruity acidity to help brighten the flavor of the meat allowing it to mix with the cuttlefish.

Mont d’Or cheese, orange syrup, lamb’s lettuce and fennel salad with hazelnut oil.

Table of desserts. Strawberry and pineapple tart in a martini glass, strawberry with chantilly, chocolate with peanut glace. This course seemed the most Gagnaire-style as our entire table was filled with small plates. As my friend Chuck recalls, “Do you remember the desserts? When they filled the table full of plates?” This was a tempered down version of the potluck of desserts served in Paris. I also found it strange that three of the four desserts highlighted strawberries. It was as if the kitchen had five ingredients and combined them in different ways.

The meal was enjoyable but lacked the passion and impromptu nature of the dishes in Paris. After my meal in Paris I complained that there was too much risk leading to several courses that just didn’t work. As the motto goes, be careful what you wish for. Here there was not enough risk lending to a weakened intensity and diversity of flavors.

I dream of a meal at Gagnaire full of impulse and spur-of-the-moment zeal where the luck lands on my side. I just haven’t had that yet.

New York Grill & Bar

Adam — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 02:54:30 +0000

The New York Grill and its adjacent bar sits atop the 52th floor of the Park Hyatt in Nishishinjuku, Tokyo. This hotel, and in particular its rooftop bar, was made famous by the 2003 movie Lost in Translation. As in the movie the bar, with its somber spot lighting de-emphasizing the interior and emphasizing the breathtaking views of Tokyo, has to it an ethereal quality where visitors are at awe by the twinkling panorama while simultaneously in disbelief they are actually there. Or maybe that’s just the jetlag.

The restaurant, paneled with art deco paintings by Valerio Adami, has gone through several chefs over the last five years, the most recent of whom, Nadine Waechter Moreno, took over as Chef de Cuisine in August of 2010. My experiences at the Park Hyatt were under the previous chef, Stefan Moerth.

The restaurant has international Western-style fare with an emphasis on steak and shellfish. The menu is divided into appetizers and mains as opposed to Japanese-style small plates. There are a few tasting menus each varying in quantity and cost. I’ve eaten here a few times, and while I’ve yet to have a really delicious meal here, something about the view and ambience keeps me wanting to come back.

The Tokyo skyline at night is entrancing. There aren’t many skyscrapers in this city due to the prohibitive cost of earthquake-resistant construction. Instead of building up this city builds out: it spreads as far as the eye can see in all directions creating an ocean of lights.

The Park Hyatt is in West Shinjuku the business district of Tokyo where there are a handful of skyscrapers, but the rest of the city is relatively flat. From some vantage points it almost feels like looking out an airplane window. It is nearly impossible to tire of this view.

Getting to the New York Grill from street level is a bit of a trip. It involves an elevator to the sky lobby, followed by a walk from one end of the hotel to the other, to a final elevator from the sky lobby to the top 52th floor. Once out of the elevator a receptionist is waiting to greet. To the left is the New York Grill, to the right, the bar.

A walk through the restaurant passes by the open kitchen where the clanking of pots and pans echo off the vaulted ceilings. The heat from the stoves and plating lamps can be immediately felt. The kitchen is the brightest point in the entire room. Like an open stage the kitchen is focused under the spotlights and the restaurant’s seating takes a back seat in the dimly lit audience.

We ordered from the tasting menu, a five-course International tour focused on Japanese ingredients with a brief stop in Australia.

Prosciutto and Fresh Burrata – As we browsed through the wine list our waiter brought us a plate of finely-sliced prosciutto and burrata cheese. The cheese was cold and squeeky and drizzled with olive oil and pepper. Underneath the meat was a wedge of melon and a strawberry. This was simple and enjoyable, though the cheese was a bit firm and the dusting of pepper seemed out of place.

We ordered a bottle of Robert Mondavi Cabernet 2002. I remember the distinct smell of fresh coffee coming from my glass

Fresh Hokkaido Taraba Crab, Marinated Vegetables and Oscietre Caviar – A small greens salad with chunks of fresh crab and an aioli with bits of caviar. This is one of those dishes that sounds much better in description than in reality. There was nothing particularly wrong with this dish, it was just ordinary and unoriginal.

Smoked Cod Chowder with Fresh Sorrel - A smokey cream soup with chunks of potato and cod. The soup was drizzled with olive oil and fresh sorrel. Aside from the fresh sorrel, this dish was indistinguishable from most soups available at diners in New York; it was unoriginal and generally plain.

Confit of Guinea Fowl and Foie Gras – A rich lobe of foie gras rolled in guinea fowl and garnished with mixed greens. This was pretty good. The contrast between the soft and creamy foie gras and firmer more lean fowl kept each bite interesting. The texture of the fowl, served cold, was somewhere in-between chicken and duck. This was one of the best courses of the night.

Australian Southern Rock Lobster, Black Truffle, Champagne Sauce – A firmer less-sweet variety of lobster served with specks of black truffle and a champagne sauce. The champagne sauce had similar qualities to a vin jaune making the combination of the lobster and champagne sauce develop a nutty quality with slight acidity. I’m not really sure why this dish was labeled as black truffle as the specks of truffle were pretty tough to spot. This was the highlight course of the night, but despite the large plate it was two to three bites.

Grilled Miyazaki “Koyama Ribeye” with Braised Beef Cheek – A perfectly grilled ribeye with a small mashed potato tart crowned with soft beef cheek. The grass-fed beef was fantastically lean yet supple, its glowing purple interior contrasting against the perfectly symmetrical brown diamond grill marks. The cheek was very sour from the sauce even with the potatoes to help absorb some of its strength. This dish was ok, but also felt uninspired.

Comé, Bleu d’Auvergne, Langrès, Selles-sur-cher - A plate of French cheeses with vine-dried raisins and kumquats. Bleu d’Auvergne is always one of my favorite cheeses with its spicy flavors of grass and roses. The Selles-sur-cher, coated in edible ash, was dry, mild and smooth with notes of sweet cherry. My favorite, however, was the Langrès a juicy and creamy cheese most similar to époisses but a bit more mild in intensity with more salt. It took a bit of time to fully grasp that we were in the middle of Tokyo eating cheeses from the other side of the world.

Chocolat Coulant – A chocolate cake covered in candied walnuts served with chantilly and a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. The dish was spiced with cocoa powder and what seemed like a crème anglaise.

At the end of the meal my opinion was divided. On the one hand the food was lackluster. Sure the lobster was pretty good, but even the highlight courses were uneventful and routine. The meal was passionless. But, the view in combination with the live music was spectacular!

Is a good view enough to justify a visit? It’s a difficult decision. For me, this was the view of the city I saw the first night I came to Tokyo seven years ago. There’s a special nostalgic element to it that keeps pulling me back.

This space has so much potential to really be a great restaurant but there needs to be some big change in the menu. It seems that Hyatt has caught on to this need by dint of the kitchen re-shuffling. I have not yet tried the cooking under the new chef Moreno who took command this past August but hopefully this is the change for the better that this restaurant needs.

L’Osier

Adam — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 22:08:55 +0000

Why eat French food in Tokyo? Because it’s usually better than in France! Located on the second floor of its own two-story building in Ginza, L’Osier perches over the surrounding street lined with designer stores and Tokyo’s fashion-savvy shoppers. L’Osier is both style and substance, however; its plates both visually stunning and delicious.

I had a meal here in 2006 and never got around to posting it. But I have such strong and positive memories about my experience here that it would be an injustice not to share it. I’m going to post what I remember based on my notes. I ate here before Michelin came to Tokyo and rated this restaurant three stars. It’s interesting to see how this restaurant seems to have only gotten better since then.

After being seated our French-speaking waiter came over and guided us through the menu. We essentially made our own tasting based on the courses that sounded the most interesting. Shortly after an assortiment of breads all baked in house were brought to the table: chestnut, milk, whole grain, baguette, and raisin. Some of the rolls were still warm.

Rose consome with cilantro and tomato ravioli – This was served cool just below room temperature. What was immediately apparent was the fragrance of the rose. It smelled sweet and citrusy like a fresh pineapple. (I can’t stand when rose-infused dishes smell like bathroom soap.) The flavor was bright and refreshing with minimal sweetness. The ravioli had some chew to it and the inside spilled out with the first bite. This was great.

White and green asparagus with truffle sauce and sabayon – Fat stalks of lightly cooked asparagus with a truffle cream. The asparagus were served warm and a bit watery due to their thickness. The art-deco geometric presentation matched the decor of the restaurant. This was a bit ordinary, the only course of the meal that I wasn’t too happy about. The consistency of the sauce was too close to mayonaise for me to really enjoy it.

Turbot encrusted in parsley and mushrooms with a lettuce and curry sauce – The way the vegetal bitterness of the cooked lettuce and parsley interacted with the curry was phenomenal. I generally don’t like curry but in this case its subtle inclusion added a hint of sweetness that really brought out the flavors of the turbot. The curry also had a way to cut through the butteriness of the juicy fish by binding with the oils. It made this fish taste fatty but feel lean.

Bulgur-fed Duck with a fruit marmelade puree with carrot and cumin, served with a Bergamot reduction – This was outstanding. The warm tannic-quality of the cumin helped to round out the bright acidity of the Bergamot reduction. The duck was soft and supple its crispy skin fatty but not oily in the mouth. The quality of the meat was superb; its juiciness made the duck shine in the light.

We skipped dessert and feasted on the abundance of petits fours. Trays of macarons, sweet tomato tarts, pot de crèmes, and caramel candies. Tray after tray of sweets and knickknacks kept arriving much like at Guy Savoy. Our table was converted into a gorgeous potpourri of color and flavor.

This is one of my two best French meals that I’ve had in Tokyo, the other being at Le Château. What made this meal particularly interesting was its inclusion of Northern African spices such as cumin and curry. This shade of fine French cuisine is uncommon in Paris at this level of quality.

Chef Menard really has a gift for serving traditional French dishes while using the best that Japanese cuisine has to offer. The result is a magical combination of classic French cuisine melded with Japanese quality of ingredients and exacting precision.

Koju

Adam — Sun, 16 Jan 2011 15:59:08 +0000

The simplicity and minimalism of Japanese cuisine never cease to amaze me. Particularly with traditional kaiseki, sauces and spices practically don’t exist. Instead of flavoring the ingredients in a dish with external condiments, ingredients are chosen for their own intrinsic flavors.

This ingredient-focused approach took a bit of getting used to; in fact the first time I tried kaiseki, I didn’t like it. I thought the flavors were dull, repetitive, and boring. But the more I ate it and the longer I spent in Japan, the more I began to appreciate it. My barometer of flavor reset. Instead of loud spicy Thai cuisine full of spices and herbs, or very sweet and sticky Shanghainese cusine, Kaiseki lies flat in the middle: nothing too sweet, salty, or sour. It is a cuisine of modesty and humility where the natural flavors of the ingredients are put on a pedestal to shine.

Located in a quiet side street of flashy Ginza, Koju, the restaurant of chef Toro Okuda, really epitomizes the beauty that can come out of a meal where the chef takes a step back and lets the ingredients speak for themselves. Chef Okuda’s unrelenting quest for the highest quality ingredients is what lets this restaurant work.

When I stepped into Koju, I no longer felt like I was in Tokyo. I could no longer hear the sounds of traffic for one, but the restaurant itself had a volume just below a whisper. Even though it was full it sounded completely empty. A lot of this has to do with the private room setup. Most of this restaurant’s seats are in private tatami rooms separated by rice paper doors. This creates the utmost sense of privacy and serenity which really lets diners concentrate on their companions and the food.

We settled into our room, cleansed our hands with a hot towel, and began the meal.

Abalone, king crab, and wakame seaweed with vinegar jelly – The subtle acidity of the jelly was the base for this dish, with the abalone and king crab glistening through. The shellfish was so fresh that it was actually the sweet part of the dish. The balance between the sweetness of the shellfish and the subtle acidity of the jelly and yuzu slice made this dish phenomenal. The clump of seaweed offered a slight vegetal bitterness that helped to temper the acidity of the jelly.

Halfbeak clam, small scallop, and Japanese green leaves – A small salad of clam and scallop. The softness of the small scallops against the firmer chewiness of the halfbeak clam was particularly interesting, almost playful to chew. The greens added delicate crunch. This was seasoned with a hint of vinegar.

Japanese clear broth soup made from bonito flakes, with lobster and Japanese turnip – This was an incredible dish. The clear broth (dashi) course in any kaiseki meal is never meant to strike diners with awe. Its flavors are intentionally mellow and subdued. Rather, it is a time to step back and reflect on the quality of the ingredients and the subtle flavors that would not otherwise be detectable were the ingredients heavily spiced. Here, while there was no additional sugar added, the turnip and lobster tasted sweet! The mix of the turnip and lobster with the salted broth presented lobster in a light I had never seen it: it almost tasted like honey. The broth itself was exquisite, pristine with just a hint of milky-white.

Sashimi course with tuna, flatfish, and oval squid – Thin slices of unbelievably fresh fish served with lime, salt, fresh wasabi, and daikon radish. In Western meals there is typically a crescendo building from amuse bouche, to appetizer, to the big main course. Even tasting menus increase in progression with each dish most intense in flavor: soup, then fish, then meat, then dessert. In Japanese kaiseki cuisine there is no such build-up. All dishes are equal in intensity and portioning. This is particularly interesting because after the clear broth soup my palate was in neutral: this could be the beginning of the meal, the middle, or the end, and I would still be able to taste the ingredients in an unimpeded fashion. This really let me appreciate the sashimi despite it being half-way through the meal. The fresh wasabi was very finely grated and had a wet texture to it. The oval squid in combination with the salt and lime was exquisite — each bite made a “snip” sound in my mouth a texture for squid that for whatever reason, I have only tasted in Japan.

Grilled Japanese beef with Japanese Spanish mackerel – Cubes of grilled Japanese beef lightly salted and served with mackerel and fresh wasabi. The beef was cooked rare and left cool to the touch in the inside making it more like charred beef sashimi. This light cooking is what let it stand alongside the mackerel. The lean beef was served with no sauce letting its natural grass-fed flavor stand on its own. Another great course.

Turnip, saltwater eel, and taro – This saltwater eel (anago) was simmered with lemon peel and turnip in a dashi broth. Much like the previous clear soup this was a time to reflect on the quality of the ingredients and the perfection of their cooking. The eel was soft and moist making it tricky to pick up with my chopsticks, though delicious. The lemon peel brightened the dashi without adding sweetness. The turnip, almost like a piece of bread, soaked up the sum of all the constituents’ flavors.

Grilled freshwater eel, white rice, miso soup, and Japanese pickles – Freshwater eel (unagi) lightly braised in a traditional sweet sauce (kabayaki no tare). This was the best freshwater eel I have ever tasted in my life. Period. No dryness whatsoever. The kabayaki sauce brought out the natural sweetness and maple-like flavor of the eel without changing its natural flavor. The acidity of the Japanese pickles contrasted against the sweet eel. Alternating bites between the pickles and the eel made my palate go back and forth between hints of sweet and salt, the white rice reseting my mouth between each bite. This understated and simple course was the highlight of the meal for me.

Fruit jelly with yuzu sorbet and custard pudding, flavored with Japanese roasted tea – A simple dessert of a fruit custard alongside a spoonful of bright yuzu sorbet. The sorbet was barely sweet; there was very little sugar added. Rather it tasted like the smell of yuzu: clean and refreshing. This marked the end of our meal.

This meal is the best kaiseki meal I have ever experienced. Every single dish had a profound impression on me.

In some ways, experiencing a kaiseki meal is like walking into a dimly-lit room after being outside in the sun. At first it’s really difficult to see; it can even be a bit frustrating to navigate. But as the eyes adjust and rebalance it is the outside that begins to seem too bright.

At the end of the meal I was astounded at how good I felt. Not only was I blown away by how some of these ingredients tasted, but I felt perfectly sated and calm. It was as if in addition to eating this great meal I had been meditating for the past three hours. I just wanted to do it again.

Kozue

Adam — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 18:14:37 +0000

Traditional amber wood and handmade pottery carried by waitresses in kimonos contrast against floor-to-ceiling windows and granite slabs overlooking one of the most impressive restaurant views in the city. Such an explicit juxtaposition of the traditional with the modern — two concepts whose constant interplay largely defines Japanese culture — contributes to Kozue’s uniqueness.

The dishes themselves are very traditional in flavor — there are no “twists” — but their presentation and the finesse with which the waitresses explain their components make this type of cuisine extremely accessible to westerners. The views from the restaurant are phenomenal. Perched on the 40th floor of the Park Hyatt, Kozue faces west. On a clear day one can see as far as Mount Fuji. The restaurant’s policy is not to guarantee window tables — even for hotel guests — but I think it’s worth waiting around for the next window table to become available.

The menu has three tastings, each progressively larger in size, and an à la carte section. I ordered a few dishes from the latter.

Assorted sashimi – A giant bowl filled with shaved ice set the stage for a few cuts of sashimi: yellowtail, red snapper, sweet shrimp, sea urchin, fatty tuna, fluke, and nege-toro, a mix of negi-onion and fatty tuna. The sashimi was centered by two pillars of raw seaweed, decorative leaves, white radish, and fresh wasabi. I eat sashimi a lot, but very rarely when it’s served on a bed of ice: it’s amazing how the cold temperature accentuates the clean fresh taste of fish. On some fish, like toro, it “freezes” the fat making it taste a lot less fatty but while keeping the distinctive smoothness of the fatty fish.

Sesame flavored tofu – This dish was outstanding! A roasted block of soft tofu with a dry and crispy solid outside and an inside that pours out at the slightest touch. This was a little difficult to eat at first because the tofu kept running from my chopsticks, but then I realized that the soft tofu and sesame mixture when eaten together as a soup was what this dish was about. The thick sesame sauce mixed with the tofu to provide a creamy, semi-sweet blend with a few chunky bites of tofu. The crab on top offered a little salting but the inclusion of the shellfish taste seemed unnecessary. I pushed it to the side and ate it separately after I finished the tofu.

Yonezawa Sirloin wrapped in hoba leaf – This steak was half-grilled in the kitchen and presented at the table wrapped in a hoba leaf with a hot-rock grill. Our waiter instructed us to continue cooking the steak until it reached the desired level of doneness. The do-it-yourself cooking was a bit of a table-side show that didn’t add much to the flavor, but it was still fun. The meat was very fatty and so cooking it further than I usually would really helped increase the contrast between the fat and meat. The hoba leaf itself didn’t add much flavor but rather seemed more like a visual accompaniment. It did, however, provide an easy way to put the meat on top of the grill and remove it.

Simmered chicken, bamboo, radish, and shitake mushroom in a hot pot – A table-side Japanese shabu-shabu with half a chicken and accompanying vegetables. The broth was simple and clear, we were essentially making chicken broth at the table and eating the chicken while we made it. We were served only the dark meat of the chicken with skin in-tact to provide extra flavor to the broth. This took awhile to eat, which was great, and when all the meat and vegetables were consumed the broth was transferred to a small bowl for drinking. Nothing from this dish was wasted.

I enjoyed my meal, but at the end I was still pretty hungry. Even by Japanese standards the portioning was minuscule, particularly given the excessively high prices. (And keep in mind I essentially ordered two main courses!) This meal was upwards of 35,000¥, which is above the price range of nearly all of the Michelin 3* restaurants in the city which offer more interesting menus. The tasting menus are definitely the way to navigate this restaurant, my mistake. I guess this is a pretty good place to visit if you’re practicing caloric restriction.

What Kozue does charge for, however, is one of the best views in the city and some very high quality ingredients. But there are an uncountable number of places in this city with superior food and more reasonable prices. What you’re paying for here is the view and all the care and patience involved with explaining the dishes to first-time kaiseki diners. For me, once is probably enough.

Signature

Adam — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 21:45:35 +0000

Signature is the home of chef Olivier Rodriguez who formerly worked at the Tokyo location of Enoteca Pinchiorri. His menu read straightforward with two tasting menus and an à la carte section. The tasting menu seemed like a little much since my body still thought it was seven in the morning. So we ordered a few of dishes from the à la carte section and decided to split them. Well, maybe we ordered a lot of dishes.

The exorbitant prices are justified (somewhat) by the exquisite view. We were lucky enough to have a window table, and maybe it was the jetlag but I felt like I was eating on the edge of a cliff. My eyes were in awe of the view: thousands of red lights flickering atop the Tokyo skyline.

The amuses started with a pâté de campagne topped with sundried tomato. The pâté was on the dry side and lacked the smooth gamey flavor of liver that I like. I think the leanness of this dish is something that more closely fits the Japanese flavor profile. Alongside the pâté was a trio of smaller amuses among which the candied espresso foie gras stood out as the most interesting. I really like coffee but dislike coffee-flavored things. Here the espresso offered a hint of chocolate flavor and the candy crunch added textural contrast to the smooth foie gras.

Venture de thon mariné au thym, fenouil cruit et cru, anchoïade niçoise, feuilles de roquette aux olives noires – Chunky medallions of thyme-marinated tuna belly with cooked and raw fennel, black olives, and an anchovy sauce. The acidity of this dish was immediately apparent, particularly the way the slightly-sour olives mixed with the anchovy cream. It was almost like a tartar sauce. The rocket added a hint of vegetal bitterness and helped to break up the creamy mayonnaise-texture but its inclusion still seemed a little random. The tuna belly was just lightly seared leaving the inside a cool magenta. This dish was good, but a bit boring.

Velouté Du Barry et royale de moule et coquillage au curry – A cauliflower velouté with curried mussels and a shellfish flan. What’s amazing about this dish is how mild the flavors of cream and butter were despite it being cream-based. This is a testament to the “Japanification” of a French dish making it lighter. The curry added a tannic element to the cauliflower helping it integrate with the smooth shellfish flan. The mussels had a very mild flavor of shellfish, but this was masked a bit by the curry. This was really good for the first two bites.

Noix de Saint-Jacques toastées, navets étuvés à la vanille et citron confit aux noix – Toasted scallops with stewed vanilla-infused turnips, candied lemon, and walnut. I loved how the candied lemon brightened the cream sauce. The cooked turnips were remarkably Japanese in texture only subtly flavored with hint of vanilla. The scallops were crowned with thin sheets of toast adding textural contrast. The toast also helped to absorb the sauce. This dish was outstanding.

Filet de chapon poêlé, fondue de poireau et topinambour, émulsion d’oursin – Roasted scorpionfish with a leek and Jerusalem artichoke confit in a sea urchin emulsion. This was a fantastic dish. The skin of the roasted scorpionfish became slightly crunchy and its flavor intensified during the cooking process. The interior of the fish was smooth and succulent. The combination of Jerusalem artichoke and sea urchin was particularly interesting: the artichoke somehow made the already sweet urchin taste sweeter, and the salty skin brought everything together. This was the highlight of the meal for me.

Lamelles d’ormeau tiédies, terrine de haricot coco et poireau aux câpres et caviar, sauce au corail – Thinly sliced warm abalone with a white bean and leek terrine with caviar, lemon, caper, and a “coral sauce.” It’s interesting how slicing abalone really thin changes the texture from rubber to something a bit more elastic like cooked octopus. The white beans were a little starchy on the inside leaving them perfectly round, but unfortunately dry. This made it difficult for them to integrate with the rest of the dish. I wish the urchin was emphasized a bit more because the way it interacts with the artichoke was fascinatingly delicious.

This meal was particularly special for me because it highlighted French cuisine as seen through a Japanese lens. Cream sauces were lighter, the vegetables were a little different, the portioning a bit smaller, and sweetness noticeably less. In some ways, visiting a French restaurant in Tokyo is a real peek into the local Tokyo dining scene. These are the kinds of restaurants Tokyo-native diners seek out, and the menu and dishes reflect this with their Japanification.

My biggest complain is that a lot of the dishes seemed a bit sterile or lacking soul. It felt almost as if mechanically prepared. While technically flawless and quite tasty: where was the love? There was a tremendous disconnect between the kitchen and the table. It was almost as if the chef meticulously wrote down the recipes and asked someone else to prepare them.

At the end of the meal, while not particularly moved by the food, I was happy that I went. The view was truly spectacular, and there was nothing more satisfying than walking home from dinner and crashing for the night. I don’t think that I would return if I weren’t staying so close to the restaurant, however, as there are just too many amazing restaurants in this city. But for my first night in the culinary capital of the world, I wasn’t disappointed.

Bear Pond Espresso

Adam — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 01:13:58 +0000

The last time I was in Japan I didn’t care much for coffee. It wasn’t until a revelatory experience at Joe’s in the summer of 2009 that I started to like it. Rather, become a bit obsessed. And so when I visited Tokyo this December I was determined to explore the city’s cafe offerings.

I was particularly interested in how Japanese precision and general distaste for sourness would translate to espresso. I started with a list of twenty-five cafes that my friend and barista Yukimim put together for me. I went to all of them (in four days!). Of all the cafes I visited, one place really stood out as extraordinary: Bear Pond Espresso.

Bear Pond is the home of barista-owner Katsu Tanaka, an 18-year New York resident who recently moved back to Tokyo and opened shop. Tanaka — who doesn’t allow another’s hands to touch the espresso machine in fear of lack of consistency — closes the doors to Bear Pond at 2pm. ”After 2pm,” he explains, “too many people come and I cannot make consistent coffee.” Bear Pond’s shots, really a pseudonym for Tanako’s since he is the only barista, are remarkably consistent.

Tanaka’s penchant for chocolate and nutty flavor drives him to pull shots at the higher end of the temperature spectrum, and to roast his beans slightly darker than normal. ”If you make a line where the left is acidic orange peel and the right smooth chocolate, Bear Pond is all the way on the right,” he explained with a pen and paper, nearly touching his pen to the end of the right side of the line. ”Bear Pond is about smooth chocolate.”

Watching Takana pull a shot from his La Marzocco is a bit like watching a pianist practice: his voice goes silent, his hands run across dials and levers and his eyes never leave the twenty three gram basket. Any questions asked during this time are deferred until after the shot is extracted.

The resulting espresso is no more than a few dribbles of syrupy coffee — no more than half an ounce — with streak marks (“angel stains,” as they’re referred to by aficionados) dotting the sides of the pristine white espresso cup. The flavor is remarkably toasty and chocolatey, like sipping liquid raw cocoa powder. The finish is smokey — almost like toasted bread — and it delightfully lingers in the mouth for some time after.

The cappuccino and latte at Bear Pond are reversed. I didn’t quite understand why this is the case but a cappuccino here has slightly more milk than a latte and overflows from the cup. A latte, with about 1oz less of milk, leaves about 1cm clearance between the surface and the rim. After getting a bit spoiled from Cafe Myriade which uses a separate grinder for espresso and milk-drinks to allow for different grain sizes, extraction times, and volume, I thought the cappuccino here was a little diluted. Likely a personal taste, however. The milk art was gorgeous.

Bear Pond’s macchiato was excellent, a testament to how whole milk can really accentuate the flavor of concentrated chocolate. With just over an ounce of milk, this was a pleasure to sip.

Bear Pond also serves a “Gibraltar,” a drink coined by Blue Bottle after the small 3oz glass tumblers by Libbey Glassware. The drink is essentially a super-sized macchiato with a single shot of espresso and 2.5-3oz of milk. The volume of milk combined with Bear Pond’s unique half-ounce espresso shot made the ratio on this drink just right. It was also visually stunning. Since the sides of the glass are clear, it was impossible to hide imperfections in the milk foaming.

It should be noted that some coffee drinkers prefer a brighter more fruity flavor profile. Bear Pond is the complete opposite. There is very little acidity in all of the shots pulled here. The flavor, in contrast, is rich and full-bodied.

I’ve often heard that chocolate and nut-tasting espresso is more forgiving than its acidic and fruity counterpart. This would explain why most espresso roasters put these beans in their house blend, to mask imperfections in the extraction process. Whether that be true or not, I found ample complexity in the espresso here. The high temperature of the roast and extraction added a very subtle toasted flavor that went amazingly well with the chocolate. The flavor was like drinking toasted almonds in dark chocolate, really impressive and particularly unique.

And so my quest to find the best espresso in Tokyo ends here. Bear Pond really does everything right. Its meticulous attention to detail and unwillingness to sacrifice quality for quantity ensure a level of consistency that is very difficult — if not impossible — to come by. I’ve never even heard of a shop that only lets its owner pull the shots. I found myself wanting to return to Bear Pond daily.

Esaki

Adam — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 18:06:16 +0000

It’s easy to walk down the quiet residential streets of Jingu-mae and miss this restaurant: it’s in the basement of an apartment building with no signage. But what Esaki lacks in street-level visibility it makes up for in flavor. It’s modern take on traditional kaiseki — with all locally sourced organic ingredients — highlights the best of Japanese cuisine yet incorporates a number of modern twists that make for a more interesting, fresh experience.

The menu, full of kanji beyond my understanding, proved challenging — the waitress patiently helped me to decipher the words I didn’t know, and even brought paper and pen to take notes. At this 3-starred Michelin restaurant, things suddenly felt a lot more relaxed and comfortable.

Hokkaido scallop with crab risotto, black sesame sauce, and yam chips – The scallop was lightly seared and glowed a translucent gold in the center, a testament to the Japanese understanding that fish tastes best when served raw or barely cooked. The scallop medallions sat atop a bed of crab risotto generously salted and redolent of shellfish flavor. The yam chip provided a textural counterpoint to the dish, but not much else. This hot appetizer was a hit.

Amberjack sashimi – Thick slices of this lean fish was served with strips of Japanese radish, soy sauce, and fresh wasabi. The texture was a bit like yellowtail but firmer and more clean tasting.

Spanish mackerel, green tomato, and radish, with a white sesame and mushroom sauce – The fish once again was just barely cooked with absolutely no signs of dryness. The thick sesame and mushroom sauce coated all the ingredients adding a fine pasty texture with a strong flavor of sesame. The green tomato added a hint of acidity while the white radish added a textural crunch. This was pretty good but the flavor got a little monotonous by the third bite.

Japanese dashi with hamaguri – This was my favorite dish of the night. The dashi broth was almost clear with just the slightest hint of milky white. It acted as a base for the clam that was so soft it nearly fell apart in my mouth. What was so amazing about this dish was its purity — a single flavor shining through perfectly clear. After I ate the clam the broth kept the memory of that flavor alive in my mouth for awhile afterwards. This was flawless.

Lily root dumpling stuffed with chicken and egg and encrusted in Japanese rice crackers – This was phenomenal. The light meat ball was stuffed with thick chunks of chicken and lily root bound together by the egg. The large chunks of chicken kept the density of the ball down making this really light and fluffy. Almost like an airy Japanese matzah ball. The porous interior was filled with the thickened dashi broth keeping it moist. The outside of the ball was salty with a hint of sweetness. Some parts of the crust were still crispy, much like the portion of a pie inbetween the crust and the wedge.

Broccoli rice and miso soup with soft and firm tofu – The rice was garnished with bits of sauteed broccoli making this taste a little bit like chicken Rice-a-Roni. It actually tasted almost like a bit of chicken broth was added to the rice, even though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. This was really good. The soup was particularly interesting because it had two types of tofu in it — one deep fried, and the other soft and smooth.

Milk pudding, ginger ice cream, and soybeans - What made this dessert so interesting was its diversity of texture. Silky smooth milk pudding, crunchy ice crystals from the ginger ice cream, chewy soy beans, and powdered sesame. It was also sweet but not cloying, the flavor being dominated by the ginger and soybeans rather than the sweet pudding. Bites alternated between refreshing and rich. This was pretty good.

We finished the meal with a tisane of ten herbs. I was only able to identify the mint, shiso, verbena, and chamomile.

This was a really pleasant meal, especially for 8,500 JPY. The staple flavor of dashi and sharp acidity of pickled vegetables dominate a lot of traditional kaiseki meals making them difficult to repeat every night. Esaki did a really good job balancing traditional flavors with new ones. Here even the rice course — which is almost always married with a small side of pickled root vegetables — was deconstructed and the vegetables absent.

Esaki is a restaurant that I could visit frequently. At the end of the meal I felt perfectly sated. It was a meal with a tremendous range of flavors and textures firmly based in traditional Japanese cuisine. In some ways it’s similar to Ryugin, minus the fanciness. While dishes were modernized they remained straightforward and simple. No caviar here.

One way to look at this meal might be as an introduction to kaiseki. It hits all the notes of traditional kaiseki without straying too far from more familiar European flavors. I loved this meal and shared it with two people who aren’t as fond of traditional kaiseki flavors as I am, but Esaki’s ability to reinvent and modernize this cuisine ensured that we all finished this meal with huge smiles.

Sukiyabashi Jiro

Adam — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 22:41:22 +0000

I always thought two parents were more than enough. But after visiting Sukiyabashi Jiro in Ginza, Tokyo, I will be returning with adoption papers.

Chef Jiro Ono has been recognized by the Japanese government as a national treasure and “modern master” for his contributions to Japanese cuisine. He has received three Michelin stars. The awards an accolades for this masterful chef are endless. And to believe he is over 80 years old.

Chef Ono’s dishes are simple and straight forward: the freshest fish imaginable, warm carefully selected and cooked rice, deft knife work, and a collection of wise and sarcastic jokes. He is very serious. But unlike Masa, he was faster to crack a smile. He couldn’t stop smirking at how I took a picture of each piece of sushi and even offered to pose; though, his sharp sushi knife was a forceful deterrent. He has a funny sense of humor and is full of clever quips; my limited Japanese only understood the surface. He asked if we had any allergies or restrictions. We made it very clear that we eat absolutely everything.

To me, an omakase meal is like perusing the colors of the rainbow: when everything is exquisitely fresh, it’s impossible for me to pick favorites or to dislike any of the fresh fish. It’s like asking me to chose if I like the color red or blue better; I like them both. Everything I ate here was unbelievable.

Full course list:
- Hirame　(ひらめ)
- Sumi-ika　(すみいか)
- Shima-aji　(しまあじ)
- Akami　(あかみ)
- Chu-toro　(ちゅうとろ)
- Oo-toro　(おおとろ)
- Kohada　(こはだ)
- Hamaguri　(はまぐり)
- Aji　(あじ)
- Kuruma-ebi　(くるまえび)
- Sayori　(さより)
- Tako　(たこ)
- Saba　(さば)
- Akagai　(あかがい)
- Uni　(うに)
- Kobashira　(こばしら)
- kura　(いくら)
- Anago　(あなご)
- Tamago　(たまご)

We started the meal with cuts of Hirame, Sumi-ika, and Shima-aji. Each piece was lightly brushed with soy sauce and freshly grated wasabi already applied. The only accoutrement given was a healthy handful of ginger. The hirame (fluke) left a trail of sweetness lingering in my mouth. The sumi-ika (squid) had a texture that I’ve only experienced at Kozue: not at all squeaky; but chewy and translucent. The shima-aji (amber jack) snipped as I bit through it.

Three slices of tuna came next, akami, chu-toro, and oo-toro increasing from lean, to medium fatty, to extremely fatty cuts. The akami (lean toro) was the most tender slice of tuna I’ve ever tasted that did not contain noticeable marbelization. The tuna was marinated in soy sauce for several minutes before service, perhaps contributing to this unique texture. The medium fatty tuna had an interesting mix of crunch and fat, while the fatty tuna just completely melted in my mouth. My friend with whom I shared this meal began to tear (I kid you not).

Making the transition from milder to more intensely flavored fishes came kohada, hamaguri, and aji. The shiny skin was left on the kohada (something inbetween herring and mackerel) amplifying the already fishy flavor. This fish literally smells like the ocean. The texture of the hamaguri (a type of Japanese clam) was crunchy yet not dry. The aji (horse mackerel) was soft and smooth with thin stripes of fat stringing together layers of lean meat.

The kuruma-ebi was simply gorgeous. Killed minutes before and immediately flash boiled, the gigantic tiger prawn with beautiful bands of white and red made its way to our plate. The texture of the shrimp was almost indistinguishable from langoustine: firm with a hint of pastiness. I briefly wondered what happened to the head, my favorite part; but I was quickly distracted by the next course. Chef Ono explained that the tiger prawn is sliced in such a way that the flavor and juices of the head are incorporated with the meat, and so the head itself is not necessary.

The sayori had a texture inbetween mackerel and squid: slightly crunchy yet clearly not a shellfish.

The tako, or octopus, was sliced very thinly and left lightly uncooked to preserve its soft texture and to prevent it from getting dry. The edges of the fish seemed less cooked than the center, giving this slice of octopus a wide range of textures both chewy and crunchy.

Saba, a skin-less slice of mackerel that lacked the strong fishy flavor that I was used to. This was the freshest saba I’ve ever tasted.

Akagai, or arc-shell clam, was a newly discovered favorite food. I am literally tasting again this as I type this sentence. A brittle and crispy yet moist clam with a strong briny flavor. Chef Ono lightly scored the surface with his knife enhancing the crispy texture.

Uni. Light and sweet with a slightly briny flavor and no iodine taste whatsoever. The roe remained firm even while sitting atop the warm rice. As my friend Lizzie said during our meal at Urasawa, “you can just inject this stuff directly into my veins.” I couldn’t agree with her more.

Kobashira, round clam abductor muscles wrapped in seaweed. This had a stiff and crispy texture much like the akagai.

Ikura, salmon roe. One of the few pieces of Ikura sushi I’ve had with almost no salting. Chef Ono, in the most humble way possible, let us know that this was the best in the world. It was certainly some of the best I’ve ever had, right alongside the Ikura at Urasawa.

Anago, saltwater eel. This was much leaner and less oily than usual. It was very lightly glazed with kabayaki to add sweetness.

And now, time for dessert. This is how I would like to end all meals. If the quality of a restaurant’s Tamago can be used as a barometer for the skill of a sushi chef, this is as good as it gets. The sweet egg sushi had a fluffiness like a dense pound cake. It was addictively sweet and marked a perfect ending to an incredible meal.

The bill came, and I was told that no credit cards were accepted. Uh oh. Struggling in a panic to put together my thoughts in Japanese, I explained that I would leave my sister at the restaurant as hostage while I went to an ATM. With his slippers and in full chef attire, Chef Ono’s assistant kindly walked me into the connecting subway station to the nearest machine. The machine was on the other side of the subway turnstyle; but a quick conversation with the toll guard and he let me through to the machine. I returned cash in hand to see my sister smiling with several autographed books that Chef Ono had signed for her … she must have left quite an impression. This example of kindness is not something I’m used to living in Paris.

This was undoubtably one of the best sushi meals of my life. The combination of chef Ono’s skill and access to the best ingredients makes this a must visit. Each fish was served at its ideal temperature. His timing was impeccable: not a single piece of fish rested for a second longer than necessary.

I would recommend going with someone who speaks conversational Japanese as the staff speaks absolutely no English and, for me, much of the fun came from the chef’s witty humour. It was an all around excellent experience, and I can’t wait to go back.

RyuGin

Adam — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 04:50:10 +0000

Chef Yamamoto Seiji (山本征治) opened RyuGin in December 2003 at the young age of thirty three. Before that he had worked under Koyama Hirohisa (小山裕久) at Aoyagi (青柳) for ten years, channeling his talent for cooking the highest quality ingredients flawlessly. In theory, the highest quality ingredients combined with impeccable cooking should guarantee an unforgettable meal. At least that’s what I thought.

The restaurant is located on a small side street in Roppongi. The area used to be a bit seedy but after the construction of Roppongi Hills (六本木ヒルズ) completed in 2003, the neighborhood perked up. Now it is known for its sophisticated nightlife including a handful burgeoning restaurants eager to collect their stars. Yet despite being in such a lively neighborhood, RyuGin remains humble and quiet having just under twenty seats.

The service at RyuGin, like the service at nearly every other fine dining establishment in the city, was flawless and graceful. The staff spoke with tremendous knowledge about the menu yet remained impressively humble. The stage was set for a fantastic meal. Everything was ready, that is, except the food.

I was the only one at the table who enjoyed the first course, Atelier RyuGin’s home made bottarga served with daikon radish in yuzu flavor. A thin slice of cured tuna roe served atop two smoked logs. The dried roe was salty and firm, with a texture not unlike leather. The flavor was intensely salty and of intense dried fish. I thought this was a nice accompaniment to a glass of champagne.

Special oyster from Akkeshi, Hokkaido served with smoked oyster purée and ponzu vinegar with céleri-rave. This was the first disappointing course. The oyster was very salty and its only flavor that of unpleasant fish. The ponzu vinegar was too assertive distracting from any sweet components the oyster may have contributed. The portioning was purportedly for one bite; but that was impossible unless your mouth looks like Shrek’s.

Ankimo, monkfish liver, served with ark shell clam, winter vegetable in apple vinegar, miso, and mustard. Another disappointment. The liver was completely covered with a cold, flavorless paste that prevented any flavor from the monkfish from surfacing. This did not taste like miso pastes that I was used to; this had no character. The miso paste was also unnecessarily jelly-like. Unfortunate, as I love monkfish liver.

Hot soup of matsuba brand Tanner crab from Port Shibayama in season’s greetings style. The title of this dish made me chuckle inside a little. This was delicious and perfect for a freezing cold winter day. The subtle clear and lightly salted broth extracted and enhanced the sweetness of the crab. The quality of the shellfish was immediately apparent as despite sitting in a hot broth for several minutes the stringy texture remained in tact to the end. The crab added a subtle shellfish flavor and scent to the pristine broth, just enough to make it interesting and different from most Japanese clear broth soups.

Assorted sashimi “RyuGin style,” feel free to serve this to me anytime of day or night. There is nothing but praise that I have for this course. The freshest fish in the world were prepared in a way that allowed 100% of their natural flavor to come through. A lightly seared scallop topped with osetra caviar, red snapper from nearby Osaka, lean tuna, and homard bleu. An assortment of flavors and textures from crunchy to smooth, lean snapper to rich scallop.

Deep fried shark fin in cone, a surprisingly enjoyable mix of crunchy fried breading and stringy shark fin. I’m used to eating shark fin in soup; this was the first time I tasted it dry. I loved this cone … textures were all over the place. The salty batter somehow made the shark fin taste sweeter.

Crispy chargrilled “Akamutsu” with vinegar flavor on egg pudding, smooth taro potatoes. As good as an egg pudding can taste, I suppose. I have Japanese friends who go crazy for egg puddings like chawanmushi, as this is a very traditional dish. Being a New yorker, I don’t have the same nostalgic connection. (I can, however, enjoy mustard on my hot dog.) The smooth taro potatoes made this entire dish have a texture of smooth pudding. The textural monotony required that the flavor and temperatures be perfect: this dish was served just under room temperature and the flavor uneventful.

Venison with wasabi mashed potatoes and matsuke mushrooms. A thick cut of lean venison exquisitely cooked. There was no cooking gradation from surface to center, all uniform. The beautiful pink color glistened in the light. But the real highlight of the plate was the wasabi mashed potatoes crowned with shaved black truffle. The truffle was some of the most fragrant black truffle I have ever seen, easily detectable from across the room. The squeaky matsuke mushroom was grilled just enough to remove the water and intensify the flavor without overcooking. This was the highlight course of the night.

Steamed rice with cherry blossom tea topped with aromatic sakura shrimp from Shizuoka. Another incredible course. These tiny shrimp were eaten whole and had a very subtle flavor of shrimp. Since they were so small, most of the flavor and texture came from the crispy shells. The heads were the most flavorful part, I really wanted more. These were served on top of rice cooked so perfectly that each grain developed a springy texture. The rice stuck together without sacrificing its shape, a clear sign of perfect cooking.

The rice was also served with a bowl of miso soup and pickled vegetables. There’s something really satisfying about pickled vegetables and rice at the end of a meal. I haven’t figured it out yet. It has the same closing effect that a sweet dessert has; except without the sweetness. It leaves me with a very clean mouthfeel.

Fresh pear compote in Gewürtztraminer aroma and three citrus in maple syrup. I got a little worried when I saw a ball of grapefruit pulp. After the first bite I waited for the bitter acidity to attack, much like waiting for the pain after stubbing your toe. Except it never came. The bitterness was completely neutralized; perhaps the pulp was soaked in some kind of sugar water before. The dish was very refreshingly bright and sweet.

Fifth year anniversary special, ice cream of chocolate truffles, accompanied with fresh orange jam. I don’t like chocolate ice cream and this was no different. The flavor was infinitely stronger than any of the previous courses, completely erasing them from my palate. This entire course, I believe, should have been skipped. But my friend seemed to enjoy it.

Ultimately light Warabimochi cake in coconuts, genmai tea, and kinako powder. Light cakes to close off the meal. These went nicely with hojicha.

My meal at RyuGin was lackluster; though, it did certainly have its highlights: the assorted sashimi, shark fin, and venison were my favorite courses. It was immediately clear that this was a very talented chef. But the rest of the meal was a blur; nothing really jumped out as memorable. And frankly, of the three courses I did enjoy, once was enough. When I returned home I saw the meals of my friends Chuck and Cathy, both of whom seem to have had very different experiences. Their strongly positive opinions aside, just from looking at the photos, it’s clear that they had a different experience. Could it be that RyuGin is not what it used to be ? Or simply that I had a single forgettable meal ? I’d like to return at some point; but, I’m in no rush.

Wine pairings for the night:
- Arbois, Grand Elevage Vieilles Vignes 2006
- Mersault Vieilles Vignes 2006
- Pinot Blanc Vin d’Alsace Domaine Weinbach 1999
- Maison Louis Jadot & Domaine Ladoix 1999
- Clos Windsbuhl Gewurtztraminer 2005

Tapas Molecular Bar

Adam — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 23:02:26 +0000

With molecular gastronomy taking the world by storm it was only a matter of time before it crossed the pacific. Located in the sky lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Tokyo, the Tapas Molecular Bar is Japan’s introduction to this innovative and creative cuisine.

The interactivity that makes molecular gastronomy so much fun is heightened by the restaurant’s sushi counter seating which holds at most seven guests at a time. The entire evening is filled with conversation between not only dining companions, but with the chefs as well. It is interactive in every respect.

Japan is known for its mix of tradition and technology. I can’t tell you how many pictures I’ve seen of a bullet train passing Mount Fuji with cherry blossoms blooming in the background. This mix of new and old is, what I believe, made the molecular bar so appealing.

I’ve been to the bar several times now and each meal has been a similarly fun experience. Most of the dishes have been more entertaining, creative, and clever, rather than delicious. I’ve just accepted that as a caveat for molecular gastronomy: edible art. However, several of the courses were downright spectacular, one of them possibly being the most memorable single dish I’ve ever tasted.

My most recent menu read:

Opening Aperitif
Cabrales Cuttlefish
Crispy Beets
Scallop with Pumpkin Sorbet
Red
Tommy Thai
Strawberry and Pesto Spaghetti
Warm Sizzling Beef
Carrot Caviar
Secreto de Cerdo
Unagi, Pineapple, Miso
Lemon Nitro
Manchego and Apple
Juicy Lamb
Monkfish, Cocoa Butter, Parsnip
Miso Soup
Blue Hawaii
Blueberries and Laurel
Fruit Course

Our opening apéritif (食前酒) came first to the table: japanese beer topped with yakult, a milk product made from fermented skimmed milk. The faux-foam had a sweet texture like an airy yogurt which made the beer taste even sweeter. This was served ice cold.

Accompanying the beer was a little plastic bag of dried cabrales cuttlefish (カブラレスとさきいか) chips whose combination touched nearly every flavor receptor on my tongue: sweet, salty, sour, bitter. The bite-sized portion made this a nice way to start the meal. A big oriental fan reminded us that we were indeed eating inside a Mandarin Oriental.

Last of the amuses bouches were crispy beets (カリカリビーツ), a ball of entangled strips of deep-fried and salted beet. I didn’t particularly like this by itself; but I thought its saltiness paired really nicely with champagne. And it looked pretty.

If I had to trust an entire country to cook shellfish perfectly, it would be Japan. I’m convinced their penchant for raw fish has swayed their palattes to preferring fish on the raw side. This was the case with the next course, scallop with pumpkin sorbet (帆立貝). A lightly seared scallop served with pumpkin sorbet, asparagus, and pistachio crumbs. This was fantastic.

Red (赤), a giant leg of deep fried king crab with uni. The crab tasted dull; however, was very moist. The uni was firm and sweet. I didn’t understand the grouping of ingredients in this dish, other than everything being red, except it wasn’t.

Tommy Thai (トミくん), a de-constructed version of the thai soup. This was fun to eat and quite creative; but its flavors muted.

Mojito (味噌汁), our waitress came around the sushi counter and began to pour, convincingly, an invisible mojito into seven highball glasses. The mojito was suspended inside the straw held in place by a thin layer of gelatin. One sip on the straw and I tasted the mojito’s strong flavors of mint and rum.

Strawberry and pesto spaghetti (いちごのスパゲッティ), sounds crazy until you taste it. These over-ripe strawberries were lightly stewed with salt to taste like really sweet tomatoes. The similarity was remarkable. This was also very tasty. I just didn’t like how the dish got cold so quickly; I can’t think of anything so unappetizing as a bowl of cold spaghetti with tomato sauce.

Sizzling Beef (熱いビーフ), medallions of tender filet that had been sitting in a compression canister of nitrous oxide for twelve hours. Air was still coming out of the beef as it sat on the plate, creating the sounds and visuals of beef sizzling on a grill. The meat was extremely moist.

Carrot Caviar (にんじんのキャビア), spherified balls of carrot juice. These were spherified in front of us with a matrix of syringes filled with a mix of carrot juice and the seaweed derivative alginate forming droplets into calcium chloride. Immediately upon impact with the alginate solution the carrot juice hardened into bright orange balls of what convincingly like ikura.

Secreto de cerdo (イベリコの秘密), or “pork secret,”smoked iberico pork hidden in a cloud of smoke. The clear cup is used to contain the smoke, as well as conceal its contents, until lifted. Smelled wonderful, like freshly smoked ham. The texture of the meat was dry, unfortunately.

Unagi and Pineapple Miso (うなぎ、パイナップル), thick slices of grilled freshwater eel and a pineapple miso sauce. This was incredible. Each slice was crispy and sweet. The pineapple miso’s light acidity highlighted the natural sweetness of the unagi.

About halfway through the main courses, we took a break from savory and had two small bite-sized dishes of what could have been served for dessert. The idea was to completely reset the palate before continuing.

Lemon Nitro (レモンシャーベット), a yellow balloon is filled with lemonade and soaked in liquid nitrogen. The balloon is then peeled off, and a light sorbet made with shochu injected inside. The flavor is bright, sweet, and cold.

Manchego and Apple (マンチェゴとりんご), an apple tuile wrapped with manchego cheese. Had a flavor profile similar to mixing cream cheese and preserves, a mixture of sweet and salty. I really liked this.

By this point in the meal, given everything prior had been relatively light and my senses reset, I was feeling surprisingly good and ready to continue. Next came Juicy Lamb (ジューシーラム), a faux lamb chop filled with a demiglace. The lamb completely encased the demiglace so, when sliced, it leaked out all over the plate completely saucing the lamb. This was a really creative idea that made the meat extremely appetizing.

Monkfish (アンコウ), a cocoa butter battered filet of monkfish accompanied with a parsnip pureé. I didn’t dislike anything about this dish; but I can’t say I’d rush to order it again. This was the least creative dish of the night and seemed out of place with the other plates.

Miso Soup (味噌スープ), deconstructed miso soup on a spoon. The miso soup was spherified to about the size of a large egg yolk. This was served with small white balls of tofu jelly and dashed with powdered wakame. The “soup” exploded in my mouth making the texture playful. It actually tasted like miso soup. I didn’t like that the dish was served room temperature; because I’m used to eating miso soup hot. Other than that minor gripe, the flavor was identical.

Blue Hawaii (くうき氷), a mixture of rum, pineapple juice, blue Curaçao, and sweet and sour mix was flash frozen in liquid nitrogen brining the temperature to −321 °F. The chef warned us to eat this within 15 seconds before it began to warm, so naturally I photographed this as fast as humanly possible. He also warned us to be careful not to burn our tongues; except he didn’t exactly say how. This is an example of “fun” aspect of molecular gastronomy that can make it exciting and adventurous. As soon as the frozen snow touched my mouth it instantly sublimed into a puff of smoke. The volume also increased with the phase change, a lot, so the smoke puffed out my nose. In the process changing the flavor from being perceived on my tongue to in my nose. It was a really cool experience.

Last of the desserts was Blueberries and Laurel (ブルーベリーとローリエ), a blueberry spongecake topped with laurel ice cream. The spongecake was dry and the flavors muted.

Fruit Plate (フルーツの版), a small plate holding wedges of citrus fruits and berries. This seemed normal until another small plate with a red berry was brought out. We tasted the sour lemon; frankly, I was confused why I was brought a plate of sour fruits. Without any explanation, we were told to suck on the red fruit for thirty seconds, then to continue with the sour and acidic citrus fruits. It’s hard to explain the shock that followed; as if everything I had known was wrong. The lemon and grapefruit wedges were now as sweet as the most delicious orange I have ever tasted. There was no sourness or bitterness whatsoever. The strawberry no longer tasted so astringent as before; it was like pure sugar. We were stunned, and could not stop laughing.

The chef explained what the red berry was: miracle fruit, a small berry from Africa that binds to the sour receptors on the tongue, preventing their flavor from being detected. The sensation lasts up to two hours.

The chefs reached under the counter and pulled out guns. Still confused from the miracle fruit, we didn’t budge. Our bills were shot at us.

The menu reads about twenty courses and only changes minimally between seasons. It seems that about 75% of the menu has stayed the same with each visit. Before I share my most recent experience, I want to share my absolute favorite dish from this restaurant. It’s one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted.

Foie Gras Chaud Froid (熱く、冷たいフォアグラ), a small cup of warm fois gras soup topped with a chilled foie gras and corn mousse and garnished with dehydrated corn and chive. The magic of this dish is how the swirls of warm and cool foie gras of thin and airy texture mix together at exactly the point that they hit your mouth. This allows you to simultaneously taste both hot and cold at the same time. Aside from being fun to drink, this was incredibly delicious. The small crisps of corn added texture to an otherwise smooth dish. The mouse was also notiably sweeter than the salty soup, showcasing two different angles of flavor for the same ingredient. Wow. (I’ve been told that this dish is similar, if not identical, to one at Minibar; I hope one day to be able to try the original version.)

Three of my other favorite dishes from previous experiences are below.

Langoustine and Mushroom (エビおよびきのこ), a large langoustine cooked for just an instant leaving it mostly raw. This was topped with small chanterelles and served with a rich butter sauce. While this dish is not particularly molecular in nature, it was delicious. The langoustine developed a flavor of sweet butter and a slightly pasty texture from having been only slightly cooked.

Soba Noodles (蕎麦のヌードル), a syringe filled with noodle paste was to be injected into a hot dashi broth, instantly solidifying the noodles. I had this same dish at WD-50 in New York, so I will take this as a tribute to chef Wiley Dufresne. This dish was a lot of fun to make, and tasted identical to the real thing. The noodles were not pasty in the least.

Bacon and Eggs (ベーコンとエッグ), ironically this is a dessert. Looks can be deceiving. The sunny side up “egg” was actually white yogurt topped with a mango purée. The crispy bacon strips, sweet ham flavored tuiles with a light hit of smoke. The bacon actually tasted like bacon, and it was delicious; I’d never tasted ham sweet before. The flavors of this dish were just as interesting as its creativity.

Marking the end of the meal was a small plate of petits fours (サフランとチョコレートのカプセル – カプチーノのわたあめ) presented in circular contraption with lots of little compartments.

I’ve read several reports of a lack of originality for chef Ramsey’s dishes, the most significant being on eGullet. I think it is important to mention this as being a common criticism. In my case, creativity did not affect my experience or tasting of the dishes so I am less concerned about these claims. I have also never been to Minibar Washington D.C., or El Bullí in Roses, so I cannot comment directly.

As such, I would recommend a visit to the Tapas Molecular Bar. My experiences there have been fun and exciting. I think one visit is probably enough, as the menu does not change frequently. Though one visit can quickly turn into many more.

Jisaku Tsukiji

Adam — Tue, 12 May 2009 00:37:01 +0000

It was my mother’s first time in Japan. While she was only staying for a short week and a half, the planning for her visit started many months before. I had to create an agenda demonstrating Japan’s incredible culinary variety while still making sure she would enjoy, and remember, each meal. If she were to leave Japan thinking the food is anything less than the best in the world, I’d have failed.

Kaiseki was going to be a problem. There are just too many places. The number of Michelin starred kaiseki restaurants alone would consume her trip in its entirety; how would I fit in okonomiyaki, teppanaki, yakitori, sukiyaki and shabu shabu? I knew an early morning trip to Tsukiji market was essential, not only for the tuna auction but to show her the abundance of fresh fish that we don’t have access to in the US, and the ease with which it can be purchased here. Besides, forget cereal; what better way to start the day than with a small crate of Hokkaido uni.

To complement our visit to Tsukiji, later that night, I made a reservation at Jisaku Tsukiji, a small kaiseki restaurant on the fish market’s perimeter. Like most well-known kaiseki houses, diners eat in private rooms. This means two things: the meal will be private, and it will be expensive. Thankfully, this was a once in a lifetime experience.

We arrived just past eight, took off our shoes and were shown to our room just across the small garden of trickling water falls and impeccably lit trees and bushes. We sat down on the tatami floor and got comfortable. “I could get used to eating in just socks,” my mother shared. Me too. While this level of comfort wouldn’t function in all dining rooms, Japan’s unique juxtaposition of inelastic formality and attention to personal comfort are still at odds; but somehow, work. With that, our waitress handed us warm towels to settle in, bowed, and silently closed the sliding paper door.

The menu was entirely of fish except for a wagyu course, which I had phoned to reserve in advance. I thought that made sense considering we were practically inside Tsukiji market. The waitress confirmed that we had no food allergies when I made it clear that we are allergic to nothing and eat everything, no matter how strange. At least I do. Thankfully, my mother doesn’t speak Japanese.

The first course what appeared to be a small plate of pickled vegetables and mushroom served with round clam. But looks can be deceiving. I studied the menu closer and found all I needed to find to begin this meal with a large smile. The Japanese word for sea urchin, うに, jumped out at me like food samples in a depachika. Shimeji mushrooms provided a firm texture but overall the dish still skewed more toward a delicate taste of the ocean that balanced the creamy sea urchin with the almost-crunchy clam. This delicious combination was served with crisp cucumber and refreshing seaweed, and another crunchy clam variety for which I don’t know the name.

Suimono is a traditional hot, clear broth served at most kaiseki meals, particularly in the winter, for it’s pure and light flavor and its ability to stimulate the palate as well as warm the body. This soup was served with a crab cake, japanese udo, mizuna, and ginger. The flavor was of bonito and crab, both warm and refreshing, with a hint of ginger to accentuate the flavor of the shellfish. The greens were very lightly cooked preserving their flavor, as well as crunchy texture, adding variety to each spoonful with the soft fish cake. My mother thought this tasted a little bland, which I understand: it did. But the flavor was intentionally muted, both tamed and reserved, as this soup is about the focused, subtle flavor of fish.

Next came a bowl of small white fish served raw and topped with grated white radish and pomegranate seeds. The acidity of the radish, vinegar, and pomegranate brightened both the fish and my palate. The fish were so fresh that its flavor blended almost effortlessly into the background, while only scent was of the vinegar in which the radish marinated. This dish was also served cold which was a nice contrast after the warmth of the suimono — its flavors were almost elevated. My mother ate this dish faster than I did, which almost never happens, a clear sign that she liked it. Swish.

I decided it would be better to tell my mother about the potential toxicity of blowfish after the meal. In retrospect, this might have been a mistake because she did actually finish her portion though a second for me would have been most welcome. Blowfish can either change your life or take it, and conveniently, its peak season lies over the Christmas holidays. Though completely translucent, its crunchy texture resembles a firm mollusk with a uniquely clean and refreshing flavor. This fugu was served with shoots of daikon radish, chives, grated radish, a wedge of bitter orange, and was sauced with ponzu. This is a fish that tastes best when acidulated, particularly with the sour-leaning flavor of bitter orange. The flavor was bright, vibrant and very light. This was my favorite course of the night.

By this point it became clear that nearly every course alternated in a well-thought progression of hot/cold and cooked/raw. Following in this pattern came a small bowl with a variety of cooked Japanese taro, salmon, carrot, and a green vegetable called shintorina. This was prepared in a soy-based broth that provided a light salty background that did not distract me from the flavor of the other ingredients. The salmon was just barely orange and full of soft fatty ridges making the fish slide apart into the broth at the first bite. This dish is proof that salmon can be thoroughly cooked yet still maintain its soft and juicy flavor.

Lobster is a favorite crustacean, but I can’t remember ever loving it grilled as this process makes the moisture evaporate fairly easily. Not here. My grilled lobster was served with sudachi, whose juice had the crustacean acidity while complementing the moisture that was running from the shell. A lovely course that was my mother’s favorite of the evening.

The next course — steamed tilefish with its own eggs, spinach, and enoki mushrooms in a soy-based starch — exemplifies what is meant by Japanese balance. This dish is restrained: there are no sweet, salty, bitter, sour, or other strong flavors that jump out. In fact the broth itself tastes only lightly of bonito. But in the process this white canvas of flavor lets the true and subtle, almost sweet taste of tilefish eggs come through, which is often difficult to detect, even when served raw. The soy broth marinates every bite locking every drop of moisture within. The mushrooms and cooked spinach add textural contrast without distracting from the fish’s flavor.

Finally came the one meat course of Maesawa wagyu beef served with miso, okra, and green pepper. The beef was slightly salty from the miso; but had the pepper to sweeten it. The wagyu’s marbelized fat gently held the succulent meat together making each bite-sized piece soft enough to tear apart without a knife. The okra added vegetal bitterness, and the inside seeds had a sticky texture much like the inside of the peppers. The course was tame and pure, only a few bites in size, just enough to make the inclusion of a fatty meat course considered light.

The tasting had ended, and we were brought miso soup, pickled vegetables, and rice to close the meal. The inclusion of these three dishes is common with kaiseki meals: help yourself if you’re still hungry; but don’t worry too much if you are not. The miso soup was packed with tofu and nameko mushroom, making it more about the contents than the dashi broth itself. I actually found the soup somewhat difficult to drink without a spoon, since its density made the broth stay behind and slide forward in a giant sludge. Tasty; but not what I was expecting.

The pickled vegetables including lotus root, cabbage, white radish, and seaweed had an acidity that worked as a palate cleanser, wiping the savory flavors clean for the subtle flavor of taro rice and later, dessert. My mother doesn’t like pickled vegetables, so I was happy to help her out. Each of these vegetables was crispy and full of water.

Sitting next to the pickled vegetables was a small bowl of taro rice topped with ginko nuts. With the addition of taro, the rice became more chewy and smelled more like barley. A really nice earthy finish.

Dessert came: three small slices of sweet and ripe mango with a strawberry. Being not much of a dessert person, I appreciate the Japanese de-emphasis on sweets and emphasis on simplicity with its desserts. Even though the source of these mangoes was far from Japan, they were still very sweet and juicy.

The second dessert was a small red bean paste wrapped with a striped bean paste wall. The wall collapsed with each bite adding textural variety to the paste. The dessert, while sugared, was of a similar sweetness level to the fruit course that had followed. The dessert was prettier than it tasted, however, and seemed to be more of a novelty than a tasty treat.

As we wound down our meal we sat and talked in our room, overlooking the immaculate garden for some time over roasted green tea. Despite being near freezing outside, the warm tea and heated tatami floor kept us comfortable. The restaurant only does one seating per night, so there was no rush in the world. Despite being completely booked, Jisaku Tsukiji was silent. The only sound to be heard was the trickling water from the garden just outside our window. This was a fantastic meal — delicate and humble, demonstrating that excellent ingredients need nothing other than simple preparation.

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