Within walking distance of Hanaita, both Itamae Sushi and Ha-Ne Sushi offer their own unique dishes—like DOZO!, they are conveyor-belt sushi places.
The only other place I have ever seen conch sushi was in Florida, and I certainly had never seen a “Fried Conch with Cheese Roll” like I did inside Itamae. I knew that if I really wanted to, I could have ordered a fresh one from the sushi chef, so that the fried conch would not be cold inside the roll after many a revolution on the old train…but it was so chaotically noisy inside, and the chefs were so busy bustling, that I decided to just grab a ready-made one off the “belt.” The roll wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t half bad—sort of like a trailer-trash, fast-food version of overly inventive, extremely evolved sushi with stringy aerosol cheese to boot.
The Lobster & Mango Salad Roll was a misnomer—they should have written “Lobster Salad & Mango Roll”—but I knew what they meant because of the photo. Somehow, mango always marries well with salmon and just about any crustacean in my opinion, and that was the case with this two-piece ensemble. I thought it was interesting that they draped such large slices of mango atop the rolls, as if they were fish wrapping a maki; the black flying fish eggs were also a pretty standard accompaniment with the lobster salad, which had that pungent hint of wasabi mayo just as I’d suspected (I wish they would make a lobster mixture without that wasabi flavor, but for some reason it’s hard to find).
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Ha-Ne Sushi
At Ha-Ne Sushi, the Curry Shrimp Roll delighted me with its strong flavor and unusualness, but the quality was much like the fried conch at Itamae. It’s common sense that fried food should never be left out for a long time, even if it is wrapped in sushi rice; the hot fried batter simply cools down and gets soggy. But just as before, I was too lazy and reluctant to ask for a fresh one. (The conveyor belt, with its freight of sushi-stacked saucers constantly whizzing by you, is simply too convenient. The middle man, although useful, becomes a hassle to deal with at all. It should be just about you and the food, right?).
The complex menu at Ha-Ne Sushi even puts the one at Hanaita to shame. Apparently, the Curry Shrimp Roll falls under the “America Roll” header in the multi-fold menu; other America rolls include the “Bostan Roll” and “Golden Shrimp Roll” (Golden because it’s draped, not drizzled, with yellow cheese). The “Aburimono” section clearly depicts seared sushi, such as “Aburi Kanikama,” or seared imitation crab (which I ordered), and Aburi Tarabagani (seared king crab), which sounded better but didn’t look as good in the photo. There were also Aburi Hirame (seared halibut) and Aburianago (seared sea eel). At some point, I am not sure when, I had to stop. My stomach couldn’t take anymore.
Overall, Hong Kong’s sushi, although seemingly tacky, bursts with flavor and new ideas, and possesses a whacked-out personality you just have to respect. If you wanted traditional-style in Hong Kong, you could order it. But not even Japan could—or would deign to—replicate the madness in Fragrant Harbor.
Next blog: Sushi in Seattle
The complex menu at Ha-Ne Sushi even puts the one at Hanaita to shame. Apparently, the Curry Shrimp Roll falls under the “America Roll” header in the multi-fold menu; other America rolls include the “Bostan Roll” and “Golden Shrimp Roll” (Golden because it’s draped, not drizzled, with yellow cheese). The “Aburimono” section clearly depicts seared sushi, such as “Aburi Kanikama,” or seared imitation crab (which I ordered), and Aburi Tarabagani (seared king crab), which sounded better but didn’t look as good in the photo. There were also Aburi Hirame (seared halibut) and Aburianago (seared sea eel). At some point, I am not sure when, I had to stop. My stomach couldn’t take anymore.
Overall, Hong Kong’s sushi, although seemingly tacky, bursts with flavor and new ideas, and possesses a whacked-out personality you just have to respect. If you wanted traditional-style in Hong Kong, you could order it. But not even Japan could—or would deign to—replicate the madness in Fragrant Harbor.
Next blog: Sushi in Seattle
Friday, May 1, 2009
My Journey to Japan
I was always asked why I wanted so badly to travel to Japan. “Because I want to pay homage to the land of sushi,” I would reply. And since I was such a huge fan of Japanese cuisine, the fact that I had still never visited the country began to elicit surprise from my acquaintances. “You haven’t been to Japan? I thought for sure you’ve already been there…” “How can you not have been to Japan…?”
There never seemed to be the right time; there were so many other distant lands to explore, so many other things to do. Soon, both time and excuses seemed to be running out.
The long-awaited trip to Tokyo (as I am ever beckoned by the allure of big cities) finally happened mid-April: an eight-night stay in the Shinjuku district, to be followed by a quick detour to Hong Kong.
I prepared myself for fresh, traditional-style sushi, having heard from friends who've been to Japan that the country actually has none of the sushi-shenanigans seen so often in the States (i.e., crazy sauces, quirky ingredients, creative rolls with even more creative names). In fact, the consensus seemed to be that sushi is still better over here, as we have a greater tendency toward cross-cultural fusion and that good old-fashioned enterprise of competition, both of which result in ever-changing menus and new dishes.
So I surprised myself when I ordered the most unexpected thing for my first meal in Tokyo: raw horse sashimi. I didn’t know which part of that was more shocking: that it was raw, or that it was horse. Oh, but it was there and it dared me to eat it. I thought maybe it was written wrong. Maybe they meant horse mackerel, which I have heard of.
“No, I think it’s actual horse,” said my travel companion, insisting that it wouldn’t make me sick because she has eaten raw chicken before in Japan and it didn’t make her ill. Well, that sounded good enough for me. When the dish arrived, a heap of blood-red yet bloodless slices of meat arranged with minced garlic and raw onions, she said, “That’s all you. I will eat anything but that.”
After tasting it, I didn’t blame her. It was cold, chewy, and too carnal, somehow. Yet it didn’t taste like anything I recognized. Why hadn’t I ordered sushi again? Oh, that’s right. Because I wanted to be adventurous. The garlic and onions didn’t help it by much, they merely overrode the whatever fleshy flavor the baniku provided. But those who know what I’ve eaten in the past shouldn’t flinch too much. With a tad of guilt I admit I’ve ingested raw whale, smoked puffin, kangaroo, rattlesnake-and-rabbit sausages, crocodile, alligator sausage...the list goes on and on.
She finally braved a bite, and said it tasted like raw hamburger meat. I felt queasy afterwards. The cigarette smoke-filled air in the restaurant didn’t help, either. But the other dishes made up for it in taste, if not in healthiness: bacon-wrapped asparagus, deep-fried mini fish with spicy salt and mayonnaise, beef-wrapped enoki mushrooms….
The second restaurant we hopped over to also had a Japanese-only name, which gave it a feel of authenticity even though a reference-point was lost on me (as I didn’t know what to call it). Again, a menu with lots of pictures helped, but everything did have both a Japanese and English description. I chose a cut roll with “Bar-Roasted Mackerel,” which tasted similar to herring but was actually a mackerel superior to all the mackerels I had ever tasted. The black-mottled silver slices, with the thinnest veil of torched fish skin, sat atop large mounds of rice with nothing rolled in them, as if they were nigiri-style with plumped-up bases. The dish cost 780 Yen, which is about $8.50.
There never seemed to be the right time; there were so many other distant lands to explore, so many other things to do. Soon, both time and excuses seemed to be running out.
The long-awaited trip to Tokyo (as I am ever beckoned by the allure of big cities) finally happened mid-April: an eight-night stay in the Shinjuku district, to be followed by a quick detour to Hong Kong.
I prepared myself for fresh, traditional-style sushi, having heard from friends who've been to Japan that the country actually has none of the sushi-shenanigans seen so often in the States (i.e., crazy sauces, quirky ingredients, creative rolls with even more creative names). In fact, the consensus seemed to be that sushi is still better over here, as we have a greater tendency toward cross-cultural fusion and that good old-fashioned enterprise of competition, both of which result in ever-changing menus and new dishes.
So I surprised myself when I ordered the most unexpected thing for my first meal in Tokyo: raw horse sashimi. I didn’t know which part of that was more shocking: that it was raw, or that it was horse. Oh, but it was there and it dared me to eat it. I thought maybe it was written wrong. Maybe they meant horse mackerel, which I have heard of.
“No, I think it’s actual horse,” said my travel companion, insisting that it wouldn’t make me sick because she has eaten raw chicken before in Japan and it didn’t make her ill. Well, that sounded good enough for me. When the dish arrived, a heap of blood-red yet bloodless slices of meat arranged with minced garlic and raw onions, she said, “That’s all you. I will eat anything but that.”
After tasting it, I didn’t blame her. It was cold, chewy, and too carnal, somehow. Yet it didn’t taste like anything I recognized. Why hadn’t I ordered sushi again? Oh, that’s right. Because I wanted to be adventurous. The garlic and onions didn’t help it by much, they merely overrode the whatever fleshy flavor the baniku provided. But those who know what I’ve eaten in the past shouldn’t flinch too much. With a tad of guilt I admit I’ve ingested raw whale, smoked puffin, kangaroo, rattlesnake-and-rabbit sausages, crocodile, alligator sausage...the list goes on and on.
She finally braved a bite, and said it tasted like raw hamburger meat. I felt queasy afterwards. The cigarette smoke-filled air in the restaurant didn’t help, either. But the other dishes made up for it in taste, if not in healthiness: bacon-wrapped asparagus, deep-fried mini fish with spicy salt and mayonnaise, beef-wrapped enoki mushrooms….
The second restaurant we hopped over to also had a Japanese-only name, which gave it a feel of authenticity even though a reference-point was lost on me (as I didn’t know what to call it). Again, a menu with lots of pictures helped, but everything did have both a Japanese and English description. I chose a cut roll with “Bar-Roasted Mackerel,” which tasted similar to herring but was actually a mackerel superior to all the mackerels I had ever tasted. The black-mottled silver slices, with the thinnest veil of torched fish skin, sat atop large mounds of rice with nothing rolled in them, as if they were nigiri-style with plumped-up bases. The dish cost 780 Yen, which is about $8.50.
Sushi from The Fish Market
The Tsukiji Fish Market, also known as Tokyo Central Wholesale Market, doubles as a bustling tourist attraction whereby sightseers witness the famous tuna auction that takes place at the crack of dawn. Well, I wasn’t planning to get up early for that. It would have been nice to see, but what I really wanted was some super-fresh sushi, which was available in numerous mini-restaurants in the outside market area, where you weren’t so likely to be bulldozed by one of the hundreds of motorized carts being ridden around by somber-looking employees. Amid stalls that sold everything from knives and souvenir shirts to spices and ceramic dinnerware, little eateries offered platters of assorted sushi for as low as 2,100 Yen (about $22.50).
I immediately spotted the names of fish on the menu that are rare in the States: shako (squilla, a gray-colored mantis shrimp), torigai (cockle), aoyagi (round clam). The sushi platter I ordered happened to have the shako, which looked like the body of a giant segmented bug that had shucked its exoskeleton. The chef painted its center with some sweet brown sauce, which tasted like a teriyaki-soy-glaze of some sort. Other sea-creatures that decorated my tray in nigiri form: toro (fatty tuna), kanpachi (premium yellowtail), bright red bonito (a type of tuna), ama ebi (sweet shrimp), gai (clam), and aji (Spanish mackerel).
I immediately spotted the names of fish on the menu that are rare in the States: shako (squilla, a gray-colored mantis shrimp), torigai (cockle), aoyagi (round clam). The sushi platter I ordered happened to have the shako, which looked like the body of a giant segmented bug that had shucked its exoskeleton. The chef painted its center with some sweet brown sauce, which tasted like a teriyaki-soy-glaze of some sort. Other sea-creatures that decorated my tray in nigiri form: toro (fatty tuna), kanpachi (premium yellowtail), bright red bonito (a type of tuna), ama ebi (sweet shrimp), gai (clam), and aji (Spanish mackerel).
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