Travelogue: Spirited Away

[Peter Green]

March 25 – Part 4 – Q & Q [What! You expect answers?)

Let’s wander through the market at a leisurely pace, and see what else there is here besides the BTA (big tuna auction). We’ll treat this as a comparative trip, trying to spot things in use from the other side of Straits, and I’ll ask the questions about what happens to them over here.

Octopii are some of my favourite things to eat. I think I’ve mentioned earlier that they were my first introduction to interesting eating (having been spent my early years with fine, traditional Canadian cuisine – sole in white sauce, meatloaf, spinach from a freezer bag, twice charred flank steak, and burnt-to-a-cinder roast beef….I hope Mom’s not reading this!).

What I saw here were of the very firm sort, which I would assume were destined for the sushi houses.

Now, I base that on Korea, where the softer, more flacid varieties of octopus (such as these ones chilling out in a styrofoam carton) go into the hotpots, and the little, live squirming ones just go in your mouth (something I missed out on that last trip, but I’ve had before back in ’98) or else would end up pickled and taken as yet another form of kim chi. Would these typically be used in a nabe in Japan, or are there other preparations for them here?

And, speaking of Korea, here’s another old friend. Mongae, or what Scud and refer to as Doggaebi food (Doggaebi are the gaurdian demons that flank the gates of Buddhist temples, and have very large spiked clubs…hence, spiked food, spiked clubs….maybe you had to be there).

But that raises the question….in Korea this is eaten raw with vinegared gochujang. In Japan is it just used as sashimi, or is there an alternate preparation for it? (I told you I’d have lots of questions).

I think there was a thread around somewhere discussing these things, but darned if I can find it (at least not by searching on mongae…maybe I’m thinking of the golbengi thread?). Anyways, for pictures of them stripped of their naked aggression, here’s the link to

dinner on the Eastern Coast at Jyeongpodea.

This I’m not certain about? Fish liver? Is this the raw material for what I’d had at Tazuru in Kyoto?

And you gotta love crabs, at least for eating. Anything else gets painful. Nothing huge on offer (although there must be some Alaskans about, as I’d had them in a nabe in Osaka) but there was a nice assortment of varietals, some with beautiful bright technicolour orange ones in the back there.

And there were Tanner crabs with their long pincers stretching out of the box.

These ones I’m not certain what was up. Alive, it almost appeared they were self-breading themselves, which would be a neat habit to breed into critters.

Small and stubby, but with good claws on them that would be full of meat.

I admit it. I just don’t know fish. These ones are red. I know they’re not tuna, shark, salmon, and there are a few others I can disqualify, but it’s up to you to put a name on them. I just liked the organization of them in the box (and red and blue makes the best spectral contrast)

These I do recognize. We’d also had them in Korea. They look like a huge mussel, but they’re not.

After we’d eaten them in Jyeongpodea I was told that they’re not really a part of the mussel grouping, having been disowned and cast into some other family.

They’re more like a clam (and sold with them), with a much meatier flavour. We’d eat these grilled, rather than raw, and again, there’d be a lot of gochujang about to go with them. In Japan, I’d yet to come across them on a menu.

I found a live cuttlefish, thinking its odd thoughts in a circulating bath. This I’d take blanched, and then dipped into gochujang. They’re the oddest thing under the water, looking (to me) like an old man’s bearded face.

These we’d come across, and they had beautiful colours to them. Surprisingly (to me) I didn’t see that many on offer (but maybe I just didn’t go down the right aisle?).

Okay, I already told you about how I’m fish-challenged. An interesting underhanging jaw on these that puts me in mind of some Frank Miller characters (swtiching back to American comics, althoug Frank Miller has been an extremely big fan of Japanese manga and cinema since way back in the 70’s).

Now, I would classify these as conches. Spiral shell, pointy end, hard casing over the pad of the foot, native shamans blowing them from atop the volcanoes…..okay, scratch that last part. Still, I’d call them conches, so does that fit the profile of horagai? (Is the "hora" part related to "sound"?)

Early light was now coming from the sky, with the sun making a more sensible timely appearance than the rest of us

(this is a condition technically referred to as “morning” in many places. As most women will remind us men, this is a time set aside for sleeping).

There was still some trade going on, but things were beginning to go quiet, and there were already fewer trucks about. Most of the morning’s business was over, and the shutdown was underway.

Part of the shutdown is finishing up the orders, packing out the fish in those tidy styrofoam containers.

So what about those tighty whities?

Walking out of the wholesale zone, we came across the Holy Mountain off polystyrene.

It was unclear to me as to the nature of the pile. I’d thought, at first, that it was a dump, but it was being worked over by the market staff who were piling up carts with the boxes and disappeaing back inside. Is it a distribution point (oddly haphazard when everything else is so tidy), or is it just easier to dump a few containers here and let people sort through them for what they need?

Life is a mystery.

From here we continued to the outer market.

I know! I know! “What about Sushi Dai?”

Frankly, I was happy that Scud was still ambulatory. I can’t carry him anymore, that’s for certain. And, while the Boy and I have the innate respect Canadians have for queues, we still don’t like them. It may be the best sushi in the world, but at 7:00 a.m. with only around 4 hours of sleep behind us, we were running on reserve patience.

We figured there’d be other places selling fish nearby.

The outer market also had a fair amount of greens to complement the seafood (in small lots) on offer. Eggs, too. Again, lots of packaging being used to keep things tidy. But, really, it looked like a market stand anywhere else in Asia, it was just so much more....tidy. And presentable.

There's a comment. This section was more approachable, being a retail market for the riff raff like me. Inside was much more "commercial" than what I'm used to from elsewhere. Calling Tsukiji a "market" does it a disservice, as it much more a processing and distribution centre.

I’m guessing again with some of this, but it looked like packages of gyoza on the far right, and an orange packet of shrimp paste of some form in the middle (at least it says “ebi100%” on it). Peeled prawns, seaweed, sachets with pictures of tuna on them, bags of MSG (aji no moto), and there were lots of what looked like fishballs.

And the nori stand got my attention. We go through a lot of nori (or gim, in Korean). Maybe I should be thinking about bringing a souvenir back for Yoonhi? But the odds of these surviving my packing were probably pretty miniscule.

And then I saw them. What every girl dreams about.

Loose, assorted dried fish. These were the perfect souvenir to bring her. No refridgeration requirements, and something that’ll get used.

I just had to remember to ziploc it before I put it in the suitcase (we had a bad experience with me sending back river weed from Luang Prabang a long time ago. Luckily, it was in my friend's suitcase).

The vendor was concerned about me asking for a whole kilo, and checked (in very good English) to see if I was a complete idiot, or just an approximation to one.

“Do you know how to prepare this properly?”

“Oh, yes! I give it to my wife and she does it!”

At least I got a smile out of him.

Near here we came across some likely lunch spots. One of them Sushi Sen, was open 24 hours, which is usually a good sign in Korea (it means they’re food can draw customers at all hours of the day), so I could give it a try here. Scud was beyong caring. He just wanted to be fed.

Right, having gone with the “24 hour” and drawing customers ploy, I was a little disconcerted to find the place empty. But, having entered, we’re not the types to back out.

We took a place at the blond-wood bar, and asked for two of the sets we’d seen out front.

I didn’t want to make things difficult. He seemed to be in a bad mood, and he had a big knife.

Now that he was sitting down, Scud was in a better mood. He and Serena have always liked sushi, and it’s one of the things that his school seems to be shorting the students on (along with foie gras, caviar, and good champagne….he does get bacon, though, so life’s not all bad).

What came was very good. Starting with the piece on Scud’s board that was closest to me, there was (I think) Bastard Halibut (a name that got a smile from the Boy), and then some Tanner Crab, a long piece of meat taken from one of those extended legs we saw earlier.

Beside that is a shiny bit of Jack mackeral, with a dab of ginger on top, and then there’s a shrimp beside it.

Moving right along we have our tuna, than what I think is sea bass, and fatty tuna. There’s our ubiquitous egg up top, both the chickenal variety, and the salmon kind.

The real star though, was the conger eel. This was blowtorched lightly, and then topped with slivers of cucumber, sauce, and a sprinkle of sesame.

Scud’s happy anytime they bring out the flamethrowers.

The place was filling out with a mix of locals and tourists. I guess all it takes is one pair to act as the seed to get things going.

The chef had stopped his grumbling (a constant litany of a word we recognized from anime which didn’t have the best connotations), so we ordered a few more pieces (octopus, more tuna, another eel for Scud) and I saw something I’d been meaning to try.

Nattou.

With this he smiled.

He reached into one of the fridges, and pulled out plastic sack of brown stuff, nipped off one corner with a pair of scissors, and then formed a temaki, piping in the nattou. This left spiderweb strands of the stuff dangling about in the air, catching up on my fngers as I accepted the piece.

The flavours a lot like doenjang – the Korean fermented bean paste - but the texture is quite different. The Koreans also have a chungukjang (Chinese paste) which I haven’t had, but which is a relatively quick ferment (72 hours) and I’m told is very similar.

The Soy Info Center goes into a lot of detail on the alternate theories of the origin of nattou, coveing the external possibilities, citing the blind Buddhist monk Ganjin bringing over 1400 gallons of tan-shih “soy nuggets” with him when he arrived in 754 AD (that’s a lot of nattou to take on a trip), and the local versions, attributed both to Prince Shotoku (7th century) and to Minamoto no Yoshiie (11th century) of lucking upon beans gone bad, and then having the gumption (or hunger) to get past the smell and try it out

Of course, the more plausable explanation is that it’s something that just happens. The bacteria that acts to ferment the soybeans is found in straw, and there’s a lot of straw used to wrap up stuff in the old days.

The three pages the Soy Info Center has posted is an interesting read (and part of the reason – albeit a small one – that I’m falling so far behind in my writing). They also cover the different types of nattou. Here I was thinking that it was one thing, but they list (I love lists)

itohiki nattou – regular nattou

Mito Nattou- A small-bean natto, from Mito.

Hikiwari Nattou - Split Roasted Soybean Nattou, from Aomori prefecture.

Yukiwari Nattou - Finger Lickin' Natto (my favourite name) from Yamagata a mix of nattou, rice koji and salt, and then a long15 day ferment.

Nattou Hishio – from the northeast – is similar to the Yukiwara, just with different ratios (and of course, different personal touches in the seasonings)

Hoshi Nattou – dried salty nattou – which isn’t sticky, but comes with a flour dusting. These are eaten more “like peanuts”, and are a southern specialty, from Kumamoto in Kyushu.

Toozoo – nattou fermented persimmon water, daikon, salt, and koji (from Chiba).

They also talk about a dish from the Fukushima area that sounds good just based on the name daraku nabe “degenerate one pot cookery” – udon in a big pot topped with nattou.

What a world there is in the soybean.

And don’t forget our miso soup, either, another soybean product. This soup was fairly rich, with a lot of body to it. I like the dissolved-toilet paper texture that this has, along with the ample selection of extra bits (tofu skin?) in there.

Yup, a good broth, raw fish, some blowtorch action, and a couple of slugs of alcohol. Maybe breakfast can be the most important meal of the day like they say?

Anyways, back to the real world, we came out of Sushi Sen with a surprisingly small bill, considering we’d gone well past the initial set specials, and I’d added on some sake to help appreciate the fish.

Honestly, it was just for the sake of the fish.

If you're interested here's Sushi Sen's web page in English. It helped me kind of remember what I ate (the special we had that day isn't on there), but beyond that it goes into the health details of the different items, and provides more details on their sakes, and on their shochu.

If I go back I'll review the site first. On the shochu's they had a couple that were "brown sugar distilled white spirit". The write up on these make it sound like they're very small batch shochus, and could make for an interesting breakfast at some other time.

I’ve probably belaboured the nattou a bit (“No! Really?” comes the audience) but it, and that eel, were the only really different things, so I give them the bulk of the typesetting effort here. Again, it’s the rice itself under the fish that’s the highlight for me. Not up to what we had at Morimoto’s (I can still feel that in my mouth), but still far above what I’m used to.

My only disappointment was in the ikura (the salmon eggs). And this wasn’t a criticism of Sushi Sen, but in general I was finding that the ikura here weren’t as heavily brined as what I’m used to in Vancouver, and the eggs didn’t have quite the same firmness to them. Quibbling, I know, but a very nice meal is a simple bowl of rice hollowed out in the middle and then filled with ikura. It sort of looks like a baboon’s pimpled derrierre, but it tastes good (the rice and ikura, that is, not the baboon’s backside).

Clear of the market, we just had to make our way past the final layer of noodle shops and yakitori joints (all of which were doing a good business, or else we might have stopped for a wee bit of afters).

We’d just cleared the omelet display (we’re not egg types), when were waylaid by these.

As usual, we had no idea what we were buying, but they looked pretty, all pink with what looked like a perilla leaf (sesame leaf) wrapped around the outside.

That was enough. We made it down to the tube and headed home.

We needed some nap time.

Next: The Star That Wasn't

[Shelby]

I want sushi.

[Domestic Goddess]

It's 1:15 am back here and I am hungry.

I want sushi.

A pox on you Peter.

Edited to omit the word "d@mn" and just mildly curse our intrepid traveller lest he withholds the rest of the pics and his posts.

Edited April 25, 2008 by Domestic Goddess (log)

[Hiroyuki]

1. Octopus: The Japanese like octopuses. We eat them in a variety of ways: Sashimi (although boiled; raw ones are hard to find in a supermarket), nimono (simmered dishes), tempura, kara-age, salad, and so on.

2. Hoya: Sea squirt, often called sea pinapple.

3. Fish liver: Monkfish liver.

4. Self-breading: Yeah, saw-dust!

5. Red fish: Kinmedai, I guess.

Kinmedai images

Kinmedai no nitsuke (simmered kinmedai) is very popular:

Kinmedai no nitsuke images

6. Sayori: Halfbeaks. They are very tasty.

I posted some photos of sayori here

7. Horagai: They are sazae! You don't know Sazae-san (very famous anime)?!

8. Styrofoam: Styrofoam containers are recycled there. You can see the sign ryokinjo (tollbooth).

9. Miso soup: Tofu skin (yuba)? You mean abura-age (deep-fried tofu), right?

10. Perilla leaves: They are salted cherry leaves.

11. Hora in horagai: "Hora o fuku (= blow)" means to brag.

If you need more answers to any of your questions, just let me know.

[Peter Green]

Hi, Hiroyuki,

2.  Hoya:  Sea squirt, often called sea pinapple.

←

How do you usually have the hoya/sea squirt (that was the name I was looking for!). Is it a sashimi item only, or is there something else you can do with it?

4.  Self-breading:  Yeah, saw-dust!

←

Sawdust seemed the most reasonable, but I wasn't about to put my fingers in there to check.

Do you know if there's something special about these smaller big clawed crabs that requires them to be packed this way?

7.  Horagai:  They are sazae!  You don't know Sazae-san (very famous anime)?!

←

Ahh, Sazae.....The Wonderful World of Sazae san hadn't triggered. I guess that'd be like mentioning "Peanuts" or "Charlie Brown" to someone in North America (although I wonder about Scud's generation...)

8.  Styrofoam:  Styrofoam containers are recycled there.  You can see the sign ryokinjo (tollbooth).

←

That's good to know. It was one of those things that was going to bother me for awhile.

11.  Hora in horagai:  "Hora o fuku (= blow)" means to brag.

←

So the English catchphrase "to blow your own horn" in terms of bragging, would make sense here?

Thanks,

Peter

[Domestic Goddess]

Peter - the sawdust keeps the moisture around the crab and helps them live longer. Just wanted to let you know.

[Hiroyuki]

Hoya: I'm not familiar with hoya. I've never had them before. A quick google search tells me that they are popular in the coastal areas of Miyagi and Iwate prefectures, and have gradually become popular in other areas like Tokyo. They can be eaten as sashimi, sunomono (vinegared dishes) with cucumbers and other ingredients, tempura, and nimono (simmered dishes), and so on.

Saw dust: DG has already replied. I'd like to add that saw dust is a good medium in that it causes less stress on the creatures. Yamaimo (lit. mountain potatoes) are also put in saw dust.

Hora: I did a google search. Hora is short for horagai, so I think you are right.

[MoGa]

[quote name=Peter Green' date='Apr 26 2008, 03:08 AM

←

Ahh, Sazae.....The Wonderful World of Sazae san hadn't triggered. I guess that'd be like mentioning "Peanuts" or "Charlie Brown" to someone in North America (although I wonder about Scud's generation...)

←

I had this at Sushi Gin in Azabu Juban. Although it was included as part of a procession of sushi items (omakase) it was served (still cooking) in its own shell. The creature had been cut into several pieces and different parts of the sazae had different tastes and textures. I also remember drinking broth from the shell, I'm not sure if soy sauce had been added to the sazae I had (or if it was sazae tsuboyaki) the recollection I have is a 'sea' taste from that time, not of shoyu.

---------

Saw dust: DG has already replied. I'd like to add that saw dust is a good medium in that it causes less stress on the creatures. Yamaimo (lit. mountain potatoes) are also put in saw dust.

←

I find it really interesting that saw dust is used on one instance to keep crabs wet, and on another to dry out something as mucilaginous as yamaimo/nagaimo (and that it is so obviously well suited to both tasks).

Edited April 26, 2008 by MoGa (log)

[Hiroyuki]

From my traditional sushi shop in Niigata thread:

Sazae no tsuboyaki (turban shell cooked in its own shell). The sazae is seasoned with soy sauce and sake. My son likes this particular dish. As for me, I like to have sazae as sashimi.

[Peter Green]

Peter - the sawdust keeps the moisture around the crab and helps them live longer. Just wanted to let you know.

←

It's in his best interests, but that crab still looks pretty angry about the whole thing.

[Shelby]

Peter - the sawdust keeps the moisture around the crab and helps them live longer. Just wanted to let you know.

←

It's in his best interests, but that crab still looks pretty angry about the whole thing.

←

ROFL

[Peter Green]

From my traditional sushi shop in Niigata thread:

Sazae no tsuboyaki (turban shell cooked in its own shell).  The sazae is seasoned with soy sauce and sake.  My son likes this particular dish.  As for me, I like to have sazae as sashimi.

←

That looks really, really, really good.

Do you have an idea on how they do this? I'd venture they remove the meat, marinate it, then place it back in the marinade and then grill it?

I've gotta try this in Vancouver (if I can find the conches).

[Peter Green]

March 25 – Part the Last – Kadowaki

Our afternoon had been an idle thing. I caught up on writing while Scud headed back to Akihabara/Akibahara/Akiba/the place with the comics for a few hours of exploration.

While I still didn’t own a Michelin guide, dinner wasn’t of too much concern, as I already had reservations. In all the sturm und drang regarding the Red Book for Tokyo, there had been one name that kept on coming up in the articles, and that was Toshiya Kadowaki.

He was of note for opting out of the Michelin system, refusing to allow them to photograph his restaurant and his food, and questioning their qualifications (if not hubris) for ranking the restaurants of Tokyo.

Let’s set aside the Michelin Controversy (which one?) for awhile, and we’ll just concentrate on dinner. We can discuss it in a few days. For now, let's just consider this meal.

I gave us plenty of time, and secured, through the good graces of our front desk, a map with directions.

These directions took us down the hill, past the pimps, cutting through the smaller street at Roppongi that forked off behind Almond. Scud asked about the Hard Rock, and I advised him as to the social clientelle that appear there after 8 p.m.

The nice thing about Roppongi is that its bad elements are so well contained. If you but walk a couple of blocks, you’re clear of all of it, and can then enjoy the wealthier, upscale side of things. Get to the bottom of that hill and cross the street, and you enter Azuba Juban.

Of all the areas of Tokyo (and I have been here once before, albeit in the early 90’s) I may like Azuba Juban the best….Well, maybe I like Ryugoku better, but for the opposite reasons. This neighborhood had such a nice vibe of café’s, bistros, and, well, gentility about. It’s the sort of place you’d want to live in, maybe, as opposed to visit (yes, I can make some educated guesses as to the cost of living here).

Scud was amazed, quite frankly, that I found the place. I admit that I was a little hesitant as I peaked inside and asked, but we were in the right place, and they were expecting us.

The restaurant is quite “well contained”. Simple is an overused word in respect to many Japanese restaurants, as is austere. And neither really is appropriate, as I always find a lushness to the woods and earth tones that I find in these places, and there’s a comfort in the geometry that puts everything in its place. Perhaps a better word to take up is “serious”?

We sat at the bar, always the best choice for us, as it’s the only way I can learn anything. The bar seats 6. With the extra rooms off the side, perhaps there’s accommodation for at most a couple of dozen (although I didn’t snoop inside the rooms to count).

Now, for the rest, you’re going to have to bear with me. As you’re well aware, my functional level of Japanese is nigh non-existent (I do have certain niches). While better than my capabilities, communications in English here is…..challenging. But, that’s my problem. I’m the foreigner.

First, I checked on the issue of photography by holding up my little Canon. A cross of fingers and short bow of the head was the response, so I put away the camera. Seeing as he’s often quoted as having refused Michelin’s request to photograph, it’s nice to know I’m being treated in the same manner.

I start with a sake from Yamagata. I’m afraid that, beyond the prefecture, I can’t help out much beyond that. The flask arrived in a small silver basket. It was relatively dry, with a little fruit in the nose. That much I can tell you.

I did enjoy it.

We started with a small bowl of noodles topped with crossed greens and green egg slivers (I can’t help but bring up Dr. Seuss to Scud…he hits me), a lone bean sprout laid across the top. With this were two roasted beans, broad in shape and possibly lima (?), that had been lightly charred, and were peaking out from their blackened skins.

The noodles had an excellent crisp, breaking apart feel about them, that feel of just formed from the dough, and not completely reduced in cooking. Side this with the sunimono vinegar tang that was in there, and the full starchiness of the beans, and you think, “this isn’t bad”.

And then you hit the little pebble of wasabi and it moves up a notch.

Not a bad start.

Eating like this, while a challenge to write about, is a joy to take part in. It’s like watching a mime do magic acts, with mysterious items appearing prior to the execution of the art.

Next arrived blue and white dishes with what appeared to be salt and pepper, mixed in the Chinese style. Then appeared another plate, round, topped with a pretty little paper napkin.

Frying was in order, it would appear.

A tidy quartet appeared. A thatch of kelp (thick and a little juicy), a tangle of threads of what my notes say is nakaimo (but would this be yamaimo?), a tiny bundle of chives, and a hair nest of onion shavings. (that’s the way I drew it).

He’d indicated “no pictures” but he didn’t mind sketches.

Then arrived the two sauces, and then the tempura. There were three tempura; one a small, brocolli like green, with buds rather than florets; the other a muchroom, full with juice and that soft fungus feel; and the last, the largest, a mousse of fish, crab, and prawns (I believe) that made me think of a fry of hor mak talay.

Meanwhile, we’ve been joined by another couple at the bar, and there are obviously customers in the rooms, as he and his assistant are patiently working up other orders of tempura and the sunimono we began with.

I watch with interest as he begins on some new items. A large piece of bamboo shoot – steamed - is hollowed out and filled with something. And then two cups are placed in a steamer, the handled wrapped carefully with a dark blue cloth.

The bamboo shoot is finished on the grill, then garnished with a neon green sprinkle of spring onion. It’s served to us from the grill, and I bite in, taking notice of the soft, flacid item just beneath the spring onion.

This is uni, itself slightly grilled, which has been used to top off the dish. Under that are wedges of the bamboo that have been returned to their original positions after cooking. The creamy fat of the uni goes well with the remnant crisp in the bamboo, and with the grilling there’s a very nice roast smell to everything.

Scud lets me know that he hasn’t been getting a lot of uni at school, either.

Next arrives - in the cups we’d seen placed into the steamer - a steamed lemon skin split by a break of gold and green. Deep down in this, beneath the yielding surface and through the thick sweet ooze with a smell of honey and plum, there’s something yielding and starchy. I want to say potato, but it’s been scooped to an onion shape. I find a sweet little prawn curled into one side. The texture and flavour is thick and full of starch. Quite comforting.

Communications in the restaurant is a matter of whispers and hisses. Everything has a hush about it. Likewise, there are no sharp discordants coming from the cooking station. No clanks or rattles. Everything done is done with a practiced finesse.

A nabe is next. I’m faced with a vertical line of translucent white fish fillets, sided by a grill in the shape of a turtle’s back, a bowl of broth atop. To the left of the fish is a small bowl with a ladle resting upon it.

As directed, I prepare the sauce of sesame, ginger, garlic, and then a slight twist of lemon. The fish is dipped in this, then eaten. A pleasant texture, I ask, and am told that the fish is “kime” (although there’s a good chance I’ve heard it wrong). The slightly cooked flavour, supported by the sesame in the sauce, is quite good.

After the fish is finished, our current plates are removed, and a new bowl is brought. Then the broth is removed (with a shovel, of which I heartily approve) and put in our bowls for us to take. I touch it with just a bit of the seasoning they’ve provided.

Behind the bar the corpses of our fish is wrapped mummy-like in cherry leaves (before Hiroyuki I would have said sesame leaves) and then put to rest under sheets of ice.

Scud begins to fade a bit, not having napped after Tsukiji this morning. I give him a nudge, and then advise Kadowaki san that he’s my son.

This seems to make a world of difference. Whereas before he had been, well, not exactly happy to have me there, he now smiled, and seemed to relax by a several degrees. I’m not saying he did cartwheels or Robin Williams impersonations, but the frost in the air dissipated.

Next came a small assortment of pickles, particularly the yamagobo (that Hiroyuki had identified for me earlier) that we recognized from Morimoto’s.

Scud ate it.

Without a blink, Kadowaki san placed another on Scud’s plate, while I restrained the Boy.

Our rice then arrived. I recognized that smell. Black truffles. Full of earth and the dankness of rich soil. Not something I would have associated with rice, but it was extremely good, the nose filling as you brought a bite into your mouth.

Another fine sake had arrived, who’s origin I’m now at a loss to detail. My notes do make the point that the truffles help to bring out the background ferment in the smell of good sake, that rich tangy odour that’s in there.

As rice finishes the meal, all that was left was dessert. This arrived in a shortened martini-glass-like dish atop a platter of beaten steel, a long silver spoon with a small leaf of a bowl at the end resting on the platter.

This dessert was a thing of softness. I believe it was primarily soft tofu, topped with a bit of mocha and some gratinated elements with a bit of citrus in them. But put away the gratinee, the overall impression was soft.

We finished, smiled and nodded to the chef, and paid the bill. Kadowaki san took us to the door, and I tried my best to express how much we’d enjoyed the meal.

Scud just smiled, and that seemed to work the best.

Afterwards, as we walked back uphill, Scud asked how much it had been.

I told him.

To avoid being banned from egullet, I won’t reprint what he said.

But then he said it was probably worth it.

I’m probably not doing a very good job of preparing him for the real world, am I?

[heidih]

Peter- although I adore your photos, I have to say that this was a great report in words. I could picture the items, and I was entranced. Thank you.

[Hiroyuki]

Do you have an idea on how they do this?  I'd venture they remove the meat, marinate it, then place it back in the marinade and then grill it?

I've gotta try this in Vancouver (if I can find the conches).

←

Recipes vary greatly.

Sazae no tsuboyaki images

Tsuboyaki can be as simple as simply placing sazae on a grill, pouring some soy sauce, and grilling.

As I mentioned in that sushi shop thread, the chef's wife's recipe is as follows:

Remove the flesh from the shell, remove the suna bukuro (sandbag), cut the flesh into small pieces, put them back in the shell, add some soy sauce and sake, and add one quail egg on top. Put some salt on a plate, place the shell, pour some alcohol, set fire, and serve. (And, the customer says, "Wow!" )

Some recipes even call for dashi.

[Hiroyuki]

Let me provide two links to webpages regarding Mr. Kadowaki:

http://www.zooom.jp/selection/580/

http://ameblo.jp/azabutime/entry-10014495578.html

(both in Japanese only)

I hope Peter doesn't mind.

Fish called kime: Hm... Hamo, buri...

[nakji]

He looks grumpy.

Also: naaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkjjjjjjjiiiiiiii! I love it when they make cameo appearances. My favourite way to eat the little ones was marinated in chili sauce and grilled until their little tentacles corkscrewed up.

Even though I live here, it's fun to see Tokyo through the eyes of someone who can experience it with adequate funding. I need to start a "cheap eats" Tokyo thread, or something.

[Domestic Goddess]

He looks grumpy.

Also: naaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkjjjjjjjiiiiiiii! I love it when they make cameo appearances. My favourite way to eat the little ones was marinated in chili sauce and grilled until their little tentacles corkscrewed up.

←

Peter/nakji - wouldn't you be grumpy if you're covered in damp sawdust and there's nothing to eat and you have a bad feeling that something awful is going to happen to you?

[Peter Green]

Peter/nakji - wouldn't you be grumpy if you're covered in damp sawdust and there's nothing to eat and you have a bad feeling that something awful is going to happen to you? 

←

That's not a bad description of my waking up under a bar stool in the morning.

[Hiroyuki]

These we’d come across, and they had beautiful colours to them.  Surprisingly (to me) I didn’t see that many on offer (but maybe I just didn’t go down the right aisle?).

←

Forgot to mention them. They are kuruma ebi. They are highly valued in Japan, and are best eaten as tempura. They are also usually put in saw dust before shipment to keep them alive.

Interestingly, this ebi is called differently according to size:

15 cm or greater in length: Kuruma ebi

10 to 15 cm: Maki (ebi)

Less than 15 cm: Saimaki (ebi)

[JasonTrue]

The "simple" and "austere" aesthetic that isn't exactly simple or austere is best represented by the adjective "shibui" in Japanese. This translates as "astringent" when applied to things like tea.

When applied to ceramics, interiors, clothing, and design, it suggests a kind of richness balanced by a kind of minimalism, but probably not the kind of severe unadorned white porcelain aesthetic that you'd expect when "austere" is used to describe things in Europe or North America.

The word is a bit tricky, though... When applied to wine or sake, it means precisely the opposite of "refined."

[MoGa]

When applied to ceramics, interiors, clothing, and design, it suggests a kind of richness balanced by a kind of minimalism, but probably not the kind of severe unadorned white porcelain aesthetic that you'd expect when "austere" is used to describe things in Europe or North America.

←

In modern parlance, one might describe 'shibui' things (and people) as being 'cool' (or might have, before the word 'cool' got over used.

It is tricky to describe exactly, and it's worth putting (albeit temporarily) an unripe persimmon in your mouth just to get a proper 'feel' of the word. There are many persimmon varieties, especially in the mountains, that never ripen to a state fit for consumption by humans. Unripe persimmons are easy to find in October, trying one is an intense and unforgettable experience.

[Peter Green]

When applied to ceramics, interiors, clothing, and design, it suggests a kind of richness balanced by a kind of minimalism, but probably not the kind of severe unadorned white porcelain aesthetic that you'd expect when "austere" is used to describe things in Europe or North America.

←

In modern parlance, one might describe 'shibui' things (and people) as being 'cool' (or might have, before the word 'cool' got over used.

It is tricky to describe exactly, and it's worth putting (albeit temporarily) an unripe persimmon in your mouth just to get a proper 'feel' of the word. There are many persimmon varieties, especially in the mountains, that never ripen to a state fit for consumption by humans. Unripe persimmons are easy to find in October, trying one is an intense and unforgettable experience.

←

Nuts! Now I've gotta find an unripe persimmon. I won't be able to sleep, otherwise.

[Peter Green]

March 26

I careen from success to failure.

Last night’s dinner had been good, and Scud came away with a number of new ideas about how to eat and what to look for in food.

He’d found several items in the meal, the bamboo with uni, the truffled rice, to be quite appealing. But he also found the atmosphere a little suffocating at times. This had been my reaction as well, which is a little odd, as what I’ve read of Kadowaki describes it often as more “fun”. Of a chef doing what he enjoys, creating the food he wants to create for a clientelle that appreciates it.

Mind you, some of the “literature” also says that one of Kadowaki’s issues with not courting the Michelins was that he really didn’t want to position himself as a spot on the tourist trail of Tokyo.

Of course, is there a surer way to put yourself on the tourist radar other than proclaiming that you don’t want to be there?

Would Scud and I have been there? Do we get more touristy than us?

At least I’d made Scud wear his Armani.

Anyways, after a good meal the night before, it would have been nice to start off with something pleasant this morning (although we were close to pushing lunch).

Off the mark and around the corner, Scud suggested we try the local sushi place. I considered it, and then made my usual fatal mistake.

“Let’s just look ahead a little bit more.”

Before you know it, were halfway to Azuba-Juban again, and the path behind us is all uphill.

Have you ever noticed that, when you don’t want sushi, it’s everywhere?

We wanted it. It wasn’t.

I wish I’d known where Sushi Gin was.

We made it all the way to the Azuba-Juban underground station, and Scud was fuming. I did find a place with sushi, but it was only for take away. I suggested we eat in the park, but the icy glare didn’t hold out well for that.

So……..

I said “let’s go to Tsukiji. We know there’s sushi there.”

Tsukiji market is really, really, really quiet around twelve noon.

Really quiet.

I was kind of getting into prowling through the dead alleys, only cats scurrying around to show a sign of life. But I could tell that Scud wasn’t too impressed (although he did like the cats).

As a follow up to the previous Tsukiji post, we did go by the Mountain of Styrofoam, and it was gone. The whole thing was empty out, except for three lonely little pallets that were bouncing around in the wind. Either a paeon to recycling, or else the rubbish truck shows up around 11 to clear the place out.

I traced our way back to the spot we’d eaten at before, but then noticed the smaller place across the street was open – Sushi Ten, I think it was - so we decided to give it a try, instead.

This place was a lot more relaxed. It was also a lot smaller; basically, if it hadn’t been a hard roof on top, I’d’ve classified it more as a tent. The sound system was one perky iPod nano stuck into the ceiling that was playing a mix of j-pop and 60’s folk musice, and the seating was a counter for four and about three small square tables for two. Scud and I took one table, and our cameras another.

I liked this. It had a good comfort feel.

Scud, for his part, was bursting with enthusiasm.

With the amount of beer I drink, I was just bursting (you’d think, at $5 for a half pint, that they could pour you something where the head wasn’t a significant portion of the beer – even Scud is looking askance at that pour).

What we had was a good, solid meal of sushi. It came with tuna, shad, mackerel, eel (which was once again torched, but not tarted up with greens and stuff as with Sushi Sen), uni, suid, yellow tail, ebi, ikura, toro, and tuna maki.

I think the thing with the ikura that’s bothering me is that the brining isn’t as aggressive as what we do in B.C. I admit I’ve been lectured on this by Yoonhi, and, as she’s a lot smarter than her, I’ll bow to her knowledge. I know what’s good for me (Remember that part about waking up in damp sawdust and knowing something bad is going to come your way?.......)

Food in his belly, the Boy and I went back to the underground and headed for Asakusa.

The Oedo line will only get you so close. Seeing as it was a beautiful day out, we (okay, “I”) chose to walk in the last way, with the idea being that we’d walk along the Sumida.

Yeah, right. Anywhere else a city’s major river would have a pleasant corniche upon which to stroll…..okay, not Bangkok…..nor Vancouver…..forget about Houston, that really is just an open air sewer…..Paris! Paris has a nice walk along the Seine. And I’m certain some other famous cities do, too. The point is, don’t expect a pleasant stroll along the riverside. What there is is a narrow alley blocked off by buildings on one side, and a large wall on the other. Why a wall? Does the river flood that badly?

Anyways, we made it back out to the streetside, which is just as well, as this gave us the chance to stand in front of the Bandai building and go “ooh”, and “aah!”

And, while I’ve got video of the Doreamon statue and the Power Ranger statues and the others, Stupid Boy didn’t shoot anything with the still.

Remind me to whack him when we’re in the same continent again.

It’s a neat walk through here, though. Neat in that it’s so far off the tourist path that you get more of a feel for the sorts of things that make up daily life. Lamps, for existence.

Name signs, office signs, house signs, business signs…..these are all things that just look good, but they’re there for a purpose. It’s that element of purpose I like (and so dislike in the mountains of tourist junk I see in Nepal and elsewhere).

Finally, we began to draw near our destination. We were within spitting distance of Asakusa, the older part of Tokyo. And everyone knows the cultural significance of that.

We were right across the river from the Asahi Headquarters, and the “Flaming Turd”.

I’m being cruel, but everything I’ve read has taken this same view of Philippe Starck’s ode to the spirit of the Asahi employees.

The Japan Times has a good piece on the building, and it’s famous “Flame d’Or” topping, discussing the obvious physical comedy element, but also giving a good overview of Starck and his designs (and more on that later in the Hong Kong side of this story).

I dragged the boy across the bridge, kicking and screaming all the way. ("Why are we going across the river?")

The real joy is in the approach. The building itself is a little anticlimactic once you're there. But we figured it was worth checking out the main HQ itself.

Inside the Asahi corporate hq, they concentrated upon a display emphasizing the eco-friendly nature of beer.

(This would be a way cool way to highight a good flat screen tv. Yoonhi doesn’t agree, oddly enough).

And how Asahi is “producing taste good together with the globe” drawing upon “such natural gifts as malt” with energy sources like electricity and gas.

Honestly, I was more interested in the company history up on display across the hall.

Honestly, I hadn’t appreciated how far back Asahi brewing goes., with its roots in the Meiji era. So, in a nutshell, what is the story of the Big Four (Asahi, Suntory, Sapporo, and Kirin)?

Well, Suntory we already kind of touched upon. While the whisky goes back quite a ways, the beer is pretty much a modern story, only showing up in 1963.

Asahi was originally the Osaka brewery. Meanwhile in Meguro in Tokyo there was the Japan Beer Company (producing Yebisu).

Sapporo was established byt the Hokkaido Development Commission (Kaitakushi) under Seibei Nakagawa, a German trained brewer. At that time it was Kaitakushi Brewery.

In 1906 the competition was such a lively example of free market capitalism that it was fated to implode into th DaiNippon Beer Company, which pretty much ruled the roost, monopolizing the entire beer market in Japan for the next 40 or so years.

After the War the zaibatsu were temporarily split up , and Asahi and Nippon breweries emerging from the rubble. Nippon went on to recast itself as Sapporo, after their most popular brew.

Now, of course, you’d be hard pressed to find a Sapporo from Sapporo. Most of it is brewed in Sendai, Chiba, and elsewhere, and what we drink in North America is being produced by Sleeman’s of Canada, who they bought out in 2006.

So what about the last in our quarter; Kirin?

Kirin is actually a foreign enterprise. It was started by a Norwegian – Johan Matinius Thoresen – who showed up in Yokohama in 1864 to make his fortune. By 1869 the foreign crowd were clamouring for beer (quite rightly) and he started up a brewery to keep them satisfied. He changed his name to William Copeland, and set to work with the Spring Valley Brewery.

In a tragedy which only the late Ingmar Bergman could have done justice to, Johan went out of business, closing his brewery and leaving Japan.

But, hope was not lost. A group of enterprising Brits teemed up with some local Japanese, and rounded up the capital to reopen as the Japan Brewery Company. At this point they attached the Kirin, the mythical creature of Manchuria to the lable, and history was made.

(Copeland/Thoresen returned to Japan, but died in 1901. It’s nice to read that his grave is still marked regularly by fresh cans of Kirin. If I go back, I’ll have to visit and leave one).

By 1907, the company fell under the sway of the Mitsubishis, where it’s been ever since. (The Mitsuis have Suntory, the Sumitomos Asahi. Only Sapporo seems in the clear).

This is making me quite thirsty.

[MoGa]

That sushi was an exercise in persistence and tenacity. I hope you enjoyed it!

I love the glimpse of your tea, looks like the stuff you're supposed to have a sushi restaurant - konnacha.