I was exultant when Blowfish Sushi to Die For opened a location in West Hollywood, devastated when it closed down. Was it a lack of business? It didn't seem probable, as the place was always full of roistering, with its loud music, nightclub feel and multiple screens that played naughty anime scenes. Blowfish was cool; it was hip; it was the hot spot to see and be seen, and it had a creative and approachable menu that also delivered as far as taste.
However, Blowfish did have an odd location on Sunset Boulevard which rendered it almost invisible. It sat at the tail end of the Strip, hidden from the epicenter of urban über-cool; and from its exterior, it was so formidable and dismal-looking that it might as well have been a bank building. I surmise that this had at least somewhat contributed to its demise.
Fortunately for those in the Bay area, two Blowfish restaurants still remain. The locations in San Jose and San Francisco feature menus reminiscent of the one in the late WeHo branch, with slight variations (i.e., both Bay area restaurants offer the exotic Ostrich Portobello entree and Ritzu Roll; whereas L.A. had the Animal Style roll, and the Spider Roll with the experimental sweet honey tartar sauce).
Fugu, which is the Japanese word for blowfish, is notorious for its poisonous parts, especially the liver. Only chefs who have been through extensive training are permitted to handle these pufferfish, so that the toxic portions are removed. It's no surprise that the preparation of fugu is heavily regulated by the law. With such a legend, it's ironic that this restaurant was named after the lethal creature of the sea—double entendre and cutesy caricature of a blowfish notwithstanding.
According to the staff at Blowfish of San Francisco, it is illegal to fish for fugu in the Bay area; however, during the winter months, the blowfish that accidentally get caught in te nets can be served. It's no cheap affair: it costs $300 for the six-part fugu-tasting dinner set, complete with blowfish skin with monkfish liver, blowfish stock soup with lotus root cake, blowfish sashimi with with Chidori ponzu sauce, deep-fried blowfish collar and center bone with shishito peppers, blowfish nigiri, and green tea ice cream.
But you don't need to order blowfish to have dishes to die for: the Halibut Crudo is a perfect sashimi special drizzled with truffle oil and mango salsa with colorful flying fish roe on top; the Hawaiian Wulu nigiri is a buttery white tuna that pairs well with a tomato ginger garnish. If you're a fan of salmon, the Sakezanmai is a great choice, with its crown of salmon eggs and center of salmon, salmon skin, shiso leaves and sprouts.
Occasionally you'll find things for more twisted tastes such as the seasonal Mother's Day Roll, an almost too-sweet treat with tangerine, avocado and oboro encased in a strawberry-flavored wrap not unlike a fruit roll-up. And then there's the Ostrich Portobello, which is quite amazing albeit a bit tough to chew; the avian meat sits on a bed of tempura-fried Portobello mushrooms soaking in purple beet vinaigrette and sweet ponzu reduction.
Blowfish Sushi to Die For makes you feel happy to be alive.
Blowfish Sushi to Die For
355 Santana Row, San Jose
408-345-FUGU
2170 Bryant St., San Francisco
415-285-FUGU
Monday, June 20, 2011
OTAKU: An Oasis in the Desert
Who says you can't find fabulous sushi in the middle of the desert?
Barely a few months old, Otaku of Chandler, Arizona brings it on with a vast array of fresh fish, top-tier service, and uncanny attention to detail.
Executive chef Jay Chung introduced me to the magic of combining succulent Australian Wagyu ribeye with macadamian nuts; the refreshing and cool aftertaste that can be discovered by adding shiso leaf and avocado to a simple salmon skin hand roll; and the rich, heady aroma of properly smoked salmon nigiri.
I'm indoctrinated in all matters of sushi, from the fact that the little green bits atop the toro gunkan-style is the unprecedented pickled wasabi, to the principle of taking a torch to a sheet of nori in order to add a little crisp.
The "Otaku special salsa" atop the Salmon Tataki Special, I'm told, is comprised of cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, yuzu and Japanese dressing. For an unconventional roll, there's the Cajun Otaku Tempura, which comes with Ahi tuna, big eye tuna, avocado and asparagus. The entire roll is panko-breaded and then fried and served with cajun sauce.
It's the little touches that matter, from the marble sushi bar to the savvy of the sushi master. And unlike many other resetaurants, Otaku as a business is confident and experienced, and therefore unafraid of recommending other local restaurants that the staff holds in high regard.
With its swaying palm trees and welcoming ambience, Otaku truly is an oasis in the desert.
OTAKU
2430 S. Gilbert Rd., Chandler, AZ
480-821-3908
www.otakusushi.com
Barely a few months old, Otaku of Chandler, Arizona brings it on with a vast array of fresh fish, top-tier service, and uncanny attention to detail.
Executive chef Jay Chung introduced me to the magic of combining succulent Australian Wagyu ribeye with macadamian nuts; the refreshing and cool aftertaste that can be discovered by adding shiso leaf and avocado to a simple salmon skin hand roll; and the rich, heady aroma of properly smoked salmon nigiri.
I'm indoctrinated in all matters of sushi, from the fact that the little green bits atop the toro gunkan-style is the unprecedented pickled wasabi, to the principle of taking a torch to a sheet of nori in order to add a little crisp.
The "Otaku special salsa" atop the Salmon Tataki Special, I'm told, is comprised of cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, yuzu and Japanese dressing. For an unconventional roll, there's the Cajun Otaku Tempura, which comes with Ahi tuna, big eye tuna, avocado and asparagus. The entire roll is panko-breaded and then fried and served with cajun sauce.
It's the little touches that matter, from the marble sushi bar to the savvy of the sushi master. And unlike many other resetaurants, Otaku as a business is confident and experienced, and therefore unafraid of recommending other local restaurants that the staff holds in high regard.
With its swaying palm trees and welcoming ambience, Otaku truly is an oasis in the desert.
OTAKU
2430 S. Gilbert Rd., Chandler, AZ
480-821-3908
www.otakusushi.com
Shoya: Mostly Bland
There is supposed to be at least one in every major city: a hoity-toity Japanese dining establishment known for its fancy decor, pampering staff, and unforgettable food that is tantamount to its high price and standards. Unfortunately for Melbourne, its star restaurant doesn't quite hold down the forefront on fine dining.
Shoya, despite all of its glamorous flourishes and perfect presentation, lacks inspiration in the taste department. That an upscale restaurant could excel in every way except taste is not an unheard-of occurence; many is the time I have marveled at beautiful food festively arranged on a platter in an enchanting setting, only to have the taste of the food turn out to be bland. It is the polar opposite of discovering spellbinding flavors at a hole-in-the-wall, and perhaps the ultimate disappointment—especially if the bill is decidedly high.
"When it comes to good food, money is no object," a friend of mine recently stated. Touché. But then what to do when the food isn't up to par? At a place like Shoya, which charges A$150 for a 12-part meal, unless you plan to execute a D n' D (Dine n' Dash), you'd probably hang in there and hope it gets better.
I was seduced by Shoya based on photos of immaculate food on its website, which displayed good-looking fish embellished with gold flakes and multicolored roe. And it certainly looked to be a fine-dining restaurant, which was exactly what I was searching for after days of casual sushi-chomping alternatives. There, in a mysterious-looking alleyway known as Market Lane, aglow with eldritch lighting, sat Shoya—a refuge from the crowded sidewalks teeming with Melbournites, a place that didn't look as pretentious on the outside as it acted on the inside.
I reckon it was because I was a single female diner, or because I dressed too casually (I had just concluded my all-day tour at The Great Ocean Road), but the waiter at first did not believe I would be willing or able to pay for the A$150 meal. "It's a hundred-fifty," he said before seating me, as if I had not read that on the menu myself. I nodded, "I know." Still unsure I had heard, he reiterated, "One-hundred-and-fifty-dollars." (I reasoned that they must have dealt with a lot of D n' D experiences in the past.) "Yes, I know," I repeated. He wasn't being haughty; he really appeared fearful that I would be unable to pay at the end. I wasn't properly accessorized with a man or a better wardrobe. But looking around, I saw casually dressed men; only the women were better-attired. Choosing to overlook this silly double standard, I continued to affirm my credibility by telling the waiter I knew my food, even mentioning names of other sushi restaurants I had been to since going down under. He seemed to relax after that.
One of the reasons I had even been enticed by the multi-part course for that high of a price was because the kitchen was exposed; up front and center, right next to the main entrance, was the open-walled kitchen which had a counter across which slid scintillating salmon and tempting tempura-crusted king crab legs. Because the food was gorgeous, and brilliantly accented, I caved in—I wanted it now.
The salmon I had been eyeing turned out to be the Salmon Carpaccio, salt-cured and strewn with sprouts, salmon eggs, truffles, sour plum sauce and wasabi mousse. While it was in fact a visual feast, it was hardly a feast for my other senses—again, that strange blandness that doesn't match an exotic appearance. I hoped that was the end of the blandness; unfortunately it wasn't until the eighth plate that I finally began to taste something, and that was only because I had asked for ponzu sauce to go with it (the king crab tempura leg had only come with a side of green tea salt to accompany it). The last two dishes also tasted good—but one of them was dessert, featuring chocolate pudding, uni cheesecake (although not very uni-flavored) and black sesame panna cotta. The other was the Wagyu Beef Steak with mixed steamed rice and foie gras. The Wagyu was rich and pungent; its sauce was dark and smoky, and the ever-slinky enoki mushrooms had been thrown in for good measure.
The rest of the meal, however, was seriously, well, bland. Even the horseradish from Tasmania, which the waiter smeared on my plate with a delicate flourish, didn't have much of a kick. The sashimi, which arrived in the utmost of unique fashions—inside a glass fish-bowl type of container—even featured a rare fish called dory. "That's the Finding Nemo fish," the waiter pointed out. Adding ponzu sauce didn't help the fish flavors one bit; the sashimi was still bland. Then there was the Shochu Sorbet with caviar on top; the sake-infused oyster with pink peppercorn and miso sauce, served in a champagne glass; the quail thigh in a green tea scented bamboo leaf crust. They sounded delicious, but they were bland, bland....
Strangely, there was an item called Hatching Ocean Egg, which was somewhat reminiscent of what Yoshii of Sydney did with his Sea Urchin Egg Cup—except this one had all the flourishes and no flavor. A white-gloved waiter delivered the egg in a wooden crate to my table. After sliding the crate lid open, he assembled everything on the plate before me, setting the egg upon heaps of wet salt that enabled the egg to stand upright. According to the menu, this is steamed egg custard with black truffle, spinach puree and topped with tempura scampi tail--all floating in a laser-cut egg shell. I thought it would've been more appropriate if the thing had arrived in a coffin-shaped wooden crate; it was dead on arrival as far as taste goes.
All in all, the place deserves about a C rating.
Shoya
25 Market Lane, Melbourne
03-9650-0848
Shoya, despite all of its glamorous flourishes and perfect presentation, lacks inspiration in the taste department. That an upscale restaurant could excel in every way except taste is not an unheard-of occurence; many is the time I have marveled at beautiful food festively arranged on a platter in an enchanting setting, only to have the taste of the food turn out to be bland. It is the polar opposite of discovering spellbinding flavors at a hole-in-the-wall, and perhaps the ultimate disappointment—especially if the bill is decidedly high.
"When it comes to good food, money is no object," a friend of mine recently stated. Touché. But then what to do when the food isn't up to par? At a place like Shoya, which charges A$150 for a 12-part meal, unless you plan to execute a D n' D (Dine n' Dash), you'd probably hang in there and hope it gets better.
I was seduced by Shoya based on photos of immaculate food on its website, which displayed good-looking fish embellished with gold flakes and multicolored roe. And it certainly looked to be a fine-dining restaurant, which was exactly what I was searching for after days of casual sushi-chomping alternatives. There, in a mysterious-looking alleyway known as Market Lane, aglow with eldritch lighting, sat Shoya—a refuge from the crowded sidewalks teeming with Melbournites, a place that didn't look as pretentious on the outside as it acted on the inside.
I reckon it was because I was a single female diner, or because I dressed too casually (I had just concluded my all-day tour at The Great Ocean Road), but the waiter at first did not believe I would be willing or able to pay for the A$150 meal. "It's a hundred-fifty," he said before seating me, as if I had not read that on the menu myself. I nodded, "I know." Still unsure I had heard, he reiterated, "One-hundred-and-fifty-dollars." (I reasoned that they must have dealt with a lot of D n' D experiences in the past.) "Yes, I know," I repeated. He wasn't being haughty; he really appeared fearful that I would be unable to pay at the end. I wasn't properly accessorized with a man or a better wardrobe. But looking around, I saw casually dressed men; only the women were better-attired. Choosing to overlook this silly double standard, I continued to affirm my credibility by telling the waiter I knew my food, even mentioning names of other sushi restaurants I had been to since going down under. He seemed to relax after that.
One of the reasons I had even been enticed by the multi-part course for that high of a price was because the kitchen was exposed; up front and center, right next to the main entrance, was the open-walled kitchen which had a counter across which slid scintillating salmon and tempting tempura-crusted king crab legs. Because the food was gorgeous, and brilliantly accented, I caved in—I wanted it now.
The salmon I had been eyeing turned out to be the Salmon Carpaccio, salt-cured and strewn with sprouts, salmon eggs, truffles, sour plum sauce and wasabi mousse. While it was in fact a visual feast, it was hardly a feast for my other senses—again, that strange blandness that doesn't match an exotic appearance. I hoped that was the end of the blandness; unfortunately it wasn't until the eighth plate that I finally began to taste something, and that was only because I had asked for ponzu sauce to go with it (the king crab tempura leg had only come with a side of green tea salt to accompany it). The last two dishes also tasted good—but one of them was dessert, featuring chocolate pudding, uni cheesecake (although not very uni-flavored) and black sesame panna cotta. The other was the Wagyu Beef Steak with mixed steamed rice and foie gras. The Wagyu was rich and pungent; its sauce was dark and smoky, and the ever-slinky enoki mushrooms had been thrown in for good measure.
The rest of the meal, however, was seriously, well, bland. Even the horseradish from Tasmania, which the waiter smeared on my plate with a delicate flourish, didn't have much of a kick. The sashimi, which arrived in the utmost of unique fashions—inside a glass fish-bowl type of container—even featured a rare fish called dory. "That's the Finding Nemo fish," the waiter pointed out. Adding ponzu sauce didn't help the fish flavors one bit; the sashimi was still bland. Then there was the Shochu Sorbet with caviar on top; the sake-infused oyster with pink peppercorn and miso sauce, served in a champagne glass; the quail thigh in a green tea scented bamboo leaf crust. They sounded delicious, but they were bland, bland....
Strangely, there was an item called Hatching Ocean Egg, which was somewhat reminiscent of what Yoshii of Sydney did with his Sea Urchin Egg Cup—except this one had all the flourishes and no flavor. A white-gloved waiter delivered the egg in a wooden crate to my table. After sliding the crate lid open, he assembled everything on the plate before me, setting the egg upon heaps of wet salt that enabled the egg to stand upright. According to the menu, this is steamed egg custard with black truffle, spinach puree and topped with tempura scampi tail--all floating in a laser-cut egg shell. I thought it would've been more appropriate if the thing had arrived in a coffin-shaped wooden crate; it was dead on arrival as far as taste goes.
All in all, the place deserves about a C rating.
Shoya
25 Market Lane, Melbourne
03-9650-0848
Sunday, June 19, 2011
All the Rawness of a Sushi Burger...
At the other end of the spectrum, there is the super-casual Sushi Burger, which is fun and gimmicky, although the idea was not totally new to me (I once dined at a sushi bar that served what they called a "Sushi Sandwich"—sushi rice shaped into bread slices with a filling of imitation crab, avocado and smelt fish eggs).
Sushi Burger, however, has apparently expanded that idea into a restaurant. The menu is easy to read, with pictures that show what you're getting; the prices are either A$5.50 or A$6.50, with an extra dollar charged if you prefer the "dine in" option as opposed to "take away." And except for their fillings—choose from deep-fried fish, teriyaki chicken, crab croquette, ebi mayo and even softshell crab, to name a few—each "burger" looks exactly the same, with two slabs of sushi rice and a sheet of seaweed wrapped around it all as if it were a pita-pocket. Most of these come with leafy green lettuce, which add to the "burger" effect. But thankfully, no tomato is used—that probably wouldn't go very well with any of their ingredients.
I ordered a spicy raw salmon sushi burger, partly because it was late by Melbourne's standards (most places close early in this backwards city that has the strangest trading hours) and that was one of the few that were still available. It was decent enough for only a few dollars. The fish was fresh but I thought the sushi rice could have been better seasoned. The cold, spicy fish chunks were actually well-matched with the glob of Japanese mayonnaise smeared inside, and the bed of lettuce that was tucked between the rice buns.
The atmosphere does indeed have a fast-food feel. Through the front window, plastic models of various sushi burgers can even be seen on a display shelf, adding to the kitschy fun of this off-the-wall joint.
Sushi Burger
167 Exhibition St., Melbourne
03-9650-9877
www.sushiburger.com.au
Sushi Burger, however, has apparently expanded that idea into a restaurant. The menu is easy to read, with pictures that show what you're getting; the prices are either A$5.50 or A$6.50, with an extra dollar charged if you prefer the "dine in" option as opposed to "take away." And except for their fillings—choose from deep-fried fish, teriyaki chicken, crab croquette, ebi mayo and even softshell crab, to name a few—each "burger" looks exactly the same, with two slabs of sushi rice and a sheet of seaweed wrapped around it all as if it were a pita-pocket. Most of these come with leafy green lettuce, which add to the "burger" effect. But thankfully, no tomato is used—that probably wouldn't go very well with any of their ingredients.
I ordered a spicy raw salmon sushi burger, partly because it was late by Melbourne's standards (most places close early in this backwards city that has the strangest trading hours) and that was one of the few that were still available. It was decent enough for only a few dollars. The fish was fresh but I thought the sushi rice could have been better seasoned. The cold, spicy fish chunks were actually well-matched with the glob of Japanese mayonnaise smeared inside, and the bed of lettuce that was tucked between the rice buns.
The atmosphere does indeed have a fast-food feel. Through the front window, plastic models of various sushi burgers can even be seen on a display shelf, adding to the kitschy fun of this off-the-wall joint.
Sushi Burger
167 Exhibition St., Melbourne
03-9650-9877
www.sushiburger.com.au
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