The Sushi (寿司)

In my twenties, there was a period of decadence when we'd go to Japan once a month for a long weekend to her cities for the specific purpose of indulging in gastronomic feasts on sushi and sashimi. We sampled the breadth and depth of Japanese cuisine, everything that's been sustainably sourced or otherwise. The latter comprised of a huge chunk of education and subsequent guilt. Years later, on this trip, I've completed my list of restaurants to check out. But I didn't step through their doors without alot of inner struggle with my bohemian hippie alter.

My favorite is still the tiny, plain and unassuming Sushi Mizutani. It's probably my favorite Japanese restaurant in the whole wide world. Sushi Hashida comes a close second, then Sushi Saito. Securing the reservations at these three places on the dates I wanted was difficult and it took a bit of a compromise, some very kind arrangements, goodwill and switch-around of dates to make it happen. These reservations were more precious than yellow diamonds, considering the average lead-time is three months. And it happened, magically. I'm still in a bit of a sushi delirium.

I'm still okay with Sushi Kanesaka, but not enamored with its Shinji in Singapore. A lunch at Sushi Kanesaka in Singapore confirmed that I still prefer the Tokyo restaurant. I'm still undecided about Sushi Araki. That experience is really cool but I'm not sure where to categorize it in my head. We were taken to Sukiyabashi Jiro, where it was good, but honestly, unmemorable. It kinda pales in comparison with the others. At least it doesn't appeal to me. The differentiating factor, the fish. I'm quite in love with Sushi Saito's rice. But in a sublime stroke of the chef's knife, the cuts of fish at Mizutani came across as more delicate. In Tokyo, it's no longer about the freshness of the ingredients. That's a given. It's all about the skills and mastery of the chef over the meat. Oh, bring wads of cash. Most brilliant restaurants don't accept credit cards.

(And I don't have to dress up at these restaurants! I simply wore jeans! WOOOOTS.)

Since those hedonistic days, we've all gradually declined to have chutoro and otoro in our Japanese meals because we simply don't trust the sources of any Japanese restaurant anywhere. It's a paradox of sorts, almost hypocritical in many ways- we like sushi, but we don't trust the kitchens. The bff rejects tuna, period. She doesn't even like tuna chunks in a can. It's kinda weird to request for an omakase meal in Tokyo, then state our preferences for the choice of fish. Luckily there're poetic and tactful Japanese speakers in our midst who could point out that somehow, as a group, we choose to avoid tuna completely. The true mark of a chef, as we've been shown, is how he respects the diners' preferences, making his recommendations, but never pushing. These sushi chefs, they've an aura of zen and impeccable decorum. And therein, lies the true irony of Japanese sushi and sashimi.