Saturday, July 18, 2009
Tricks of the Sushi...
The name of the restaurant, Ichikara, didn’t do it for me. Nor did its location—a shopping plaza in West Covina, nothing fancy as far as the eye could see. But one of its chefs, a young peppy lad by the equally peppy name of Kirby—you guessed it—did it. He turned the sushi tricks.
“No, I’m a rookie,” he replied when I asked if he had worked at another restaurant prior to this one. I was always curious; chefs will migrate from one sushi bar to the next, and by asking this question I either get to learn of a new place to try, or I can share my opinion of one I’ve already visited.
From the flair by which he wielded the knife and mixed his own sauces, I was surprised he wasn’t a self-professed sushi master. He was one of those rare service providers who catered with such gusto that you felt good about ordering with special requests, knowing he was having fun with making it just right for you.
On a board behind the sushi bar, the names of special rolls abounded—Godzilla Roll, Diablo Roll, Mexican Roll—all of them with abbreviated descriptions of the ingredients used. But the contents were not so dashingly bold, containing recurring themes of spicy tuna, crab meat and shrimp tempura; and the prices ranged from $9.95 to $14.95, which sounded very much like I had to commit to one big roll that was likely to make me full right away.
Soon I overheard Kirby enlighten my bar neighbors about the virtues of his special onion-garlic-ponzu sauce, and there were hunks of spice-slathered fish in the frosty glass case, so it was settled. I ordered up peppered salmon nigiri and asked for some of that signature sauce on the side, to be followed by cajun albacore sushi, presumably with the same sauce.
Once the albacore was garnished, I almost didn’t recognize it. Slices of red onion and leaves of cilantro crowned the top and an oily, light brown dressing trickled—I was told this sauce was a sweet vinegar mixed with garlic, chili and sesame seeds. According to Kirby, the cilantro is pre-mixed into the sauce, but the red onions are tossed in about five minutes before serving, so as to prevent sogginess. Although I generally abhor cilantro, it was hardly noticeable in such a myriad of other flavors.
The “Whatever Roll” is what Kirby calls one of his own creations—a soy-paper-wrapped roll consisting of shrimp tempura and imitation snow crab on the inside, and minced crab stick on top mixed with spicy mayonnaise, masago, crunchy tempura bits and eel sauce. I decided to be flip by ordering a hand roll with just the top part of that roll inside it. The eel sauce looked likeit was about to seep through the diaphanous soy wrap, the only visual blip on an otherwise aesthetically perfect hand roll. No tricks to the taste, though—it was virtually divine.
Ichikara
450 S. Glendora Ave., West Covina
626-962-1008
“No, I’m a rookie,” he replied when I asked if he had worked at another restaurant prior to this one. I was always curious; chefs will migrate from one sushi bar to the next, and by asking this question I either get to learn of a new place to try, or I can share my opinion of one I’ve already visited.
From the flair by which he wielded the knife and mixed his own sauces, I was surprised he wasn’t a self-professed sushi master. He was one of those rare service providers who catered with such gusto that you felt good about ordering with special requests, knowing he was having fun with making it just right for you.
On a board behind the sushi bar, the names of special rolls abounded—Godzilla Roll, Diablo Roll, Mexican Roll—all of them with abbreviated descriptions of the ingredients used. But the contents were not so dashingly bold, containing recurring themes of spicy tuna, crab meat and shrimp tempura; and the prices ranged from $9.95 to $14.95, which sounded very much like I had to commit to one big roll that was likely to make me full right away.
Soon I overheard Kirby enlighten my bar neighbors about the virtues of his special onion-garlic-ponzu sauce, and there were hunks of spice-slathered fish in the frosty glass case, so it was settled. I ordered up peppered salmon nigiri and asked for some of that signature sauce on the side, to be followed by cajun albacore sushi, presumably with the same sauce.
Once the albacore was garnished, I almost didn’t recognize it. Slices of red onion and leaves of cilantro crowned the top and an oily, light brown dressing trickled—I was told this sauce was a sweet vinegar mixed with garlic, chili and sesame seeds. According to Kirby, the cilantro is pre-mixed into the sauce, but the red onions are tossed in about five minutes before serving, so as to prevent sogginess. Although I generally abhor cilantro, it was hardly noticeable in such a myriad of other flavors.
The “Whatever Roll” is what Kirby calls one of his own creations—a soy-paper-wrapped roll consisting of shrimp tempura and imitation snow crab on the inside, and minced crab stick on top mixed with spicy mayonnaise, masago, crunchy tempura bits and eel sauce. I decided to be flip by ordering a hand roll with just the top part of that roll inside it. The eel sauce looked likeit was about to seep through the diaphanous soy wrap, the only visual blip on an otherwise aesthetically perfect hand roll. No tricks to the taste, though—it was virtually divine.
Ichikara
450 S. Glendora Ave., West Covina
626-962-1008
Note: Ichikara has closed down
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
It's All About the Fusion...
From its name and architecture, you would never have guessed that RuKasu serves sushi. At least not until you catch the words “Japanese Fusion” below the name.
Driving down Ventura Boulevard one evening, I whizzed past this stately palace whose building style was clearly Russian, but whose signage denoted Japanese cuisine. Valet parking attendants who might as well have been tending to horse-drawn troikas waited outside the entrance of this twinkly-lit, fairytale-like fortress; even the palm trees in the background seemed to have more of a sense of belonging.
Perhaps this is another fine example of L.A.’s potential for fusion, I thought; be it food or culture and even architecture, our complex melting pot never ceases to show its capacity for crossovers. I made a mental note: Must come back to eat Japanese at Russian-palace RuKasu.
A few days later, I returned to the vicinity. The thing about outstanding buildings is that they stand out, making them easier to find the second time around. I stepped into an elevator at the left side of the building and was lifted to the next floor, enveloped by predominately red lighting and…Russian music? I soon found myself in the lobby area of what looked to be a restaurant/lounge for raucous Ruskies. A Russian singer entertained a rowdy crowd as everyone clapped and clapped and—
I consulted the pile of business cards on the front desk: This wasn’t RuKasu, but their neighbor Romanov. It seemed to fit the architecture, anyhow. I learned that RuKasu, in the center of this unique building, is actually flanked by Romanov and a business called Valley Eye Professionals.
The name was explained shortly enough. Rob Lucas RuKasu, co-owner and former chef at Koi of West Los Angeles, had decided it was time to fulfill his dream of opening a restaurant. Inside, the cool and tranquil ambience is a great contrast to the riotous atmosphere of the upstairs scene.
Still pretty new to the Valley’s ongoing sushi bar war, RuKasu has hope for it yet. The simplistic yet indulgent menu seems to distill the essence of three major Japanese restaurants: Katsu-Ya, Asanebo and Sushi Roku (perhaps due to the similar dishes it offers, such as the Baked Crab Roll and the Spicy Rock Shrimp Roll).
In my opinion, the Spicy Rock Shrimp Roll should come with avocado, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t ask for it on the side. I ordered the soy paper-wrapped specialty as a hand roll for $6 (it is not available as a cut roll, according to the menu). Moments before that crunchy love-at-first-bite moment, I had a hunch it would put Sushi Roku’s version to shame. Perhaps this is because RuKasu’s brims with masago and spicy mayonnaise, unlike the drier, plainer version at Roku; and perhaps it was a newbie chef at Roku that day, who hadn’t really meant to flood my hand roll with Sri Racha sauce which seeped through the mamenori when I asked for extra spicy sauce, at which moment I vowed never to return….
I grunted my approval and moved onto the Baked Crab hand roll for $5 (it is $8 if you order it as a cut roll). And this is the item that is highly reminiscent of one of Katsu-Ya’s most popular rolls of the same name. There are subtle nuances that hint at a different taste; you can tell it’s not Katsu-Ya’s, perhaps because it’s not as blackened from the bake in the good burnt food way, but it’s definitely a winner. Somehow it’s more buttery and soft, without being overly oily and cloying.
Driving down Ventura Boulevard one evening, I whizzed past this stately palace whose building style was clearly Russian, but whose signage denoted Japanese cuisine. Valet parking attendants who might as well have been tending to horse-drawn troikas waited outside the entrance of this twinkly-lit, fairytale-like fortress; even the palm trees in the background seemed to have more of a sense of belonging.
Perhaps this is another fine example of L.A.’s potential for fusion, I thought; be it food or culture and even architecture, our complex melting pot never ceases to show its capacity for crossovers. I made a mental note: Must come back to eat Japanese at Russian-palace RuKasu.
A few days later, I returned to the vicinity. The thing about outstanding buildings is that they stand out, making them easier to find the second time around. I stepped into an elevator at the left side of the building and was lifted to the next floor, enveloped by predominately red lighting and…Russian music? I soon found myself in the lobby area of what looked to be a restaurant/lounge for raucous Ruskies. A Russian singer entertained a rowdy crowd as everyone clapped and clapped and—
I consulted the pile of business cards on the front desk: This wasn’t RuKasu, but their neighbor Romanov. It seemed to fit the architecture, anyhow. I learned that RuKasu, in the center of this unique building, is actually flanked by Romanov and a business called Valley Eye Professionals.
The name was explained shortly enough. Rob Lucas RuKasu, co-owner and former chef at Koi of West Los Angeles, had decided it was time to fulfill his dream of opening a restaurant. Inside, the cool and tranquil ambience is a great contrast to the riotous atmosphere of the upstairs scene.
Still pretty new to the Valley’s ongoing sushi bar war, RuKasu has hope for it yet. The simplistic yet indulgent menu seems to distill the essence of three major Japanese restaurants: Katsu-Ya, Asanebo and Sushi Roku (perhaps due to the similar dishes it offers, such as the Baked Crab Roll and the Spicy Rock Shrimp Roll).
In my opinion, the Spicy Rock Shrimp Roll should come with avocado, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t ask for it on the side. I ordered the soy paper-wrapped specialty as a hand roll for $6 (it is not available as a cut roll, according to the menu). Moments before that crunchy love-at-first-bite moment, I had a hunch it would put Sushi Roku’s version to shame. Perhaps this is because RuKasu’s brims with masago and spicy mayonnaise, unlike the drier, plainer version at Roku; and perhaps it was a newbie chef at Roku that day, who hadn’t really meant to flood my hand roll with Sri Racha sauce which seeped through the mamenori when I asked for extra spicy sauce, at which moment I vowed never to return….
I grunted my approval and moved onto the Baked Crab hand roll for $5 (it is $8 if you order it as a cut roll). And this is the item that is highly reminiscent of one of Katsu-Ya’s most popular rolls of the same name. There are subtle nuances that hint at a different taste; you can tell it’s not Katsu-Ya’s, perhaps because it’s not as blackened from the bake in the good burnt food way, but it’s definitely a winner. Somehow it’s more buttery and soft, without being overly oily and cloying.
More Than a Mouthful
The Crispy Rice with Spicy Tuna and Jalapeno, which also conjures up memories from Katsu-Ya (although this trendy dish is appearing more and more on the menus of restaurants everywhere), is a visual banquet with the decorative purple flower in its center. And this flourish brings me back to Koi, where a sushi roll known as the SSC (Sauteed Shrimp on California Roll) is presented in the same fashion. It’s yet another crossover, the beautiful by-product of interchanged ideas as sushi chefs migrate and cross-pollinate their art form. While it may appear simple, RuKasu’s version of this dish is actually dynamite-hot, with a creeper effect to the spiciness that doesn’t hit you until you’ve taken several bites.
For good measure, I was treated to samples of the “818” roll, an amalgamation of albacore, spicy tuna and fried onion. But it was the gratuitous piece of ono sushi with cucumber slush on top that got me. It’s not on the menu, but it certainly ought to be.
For good measure, I was treated to samples of the “818” roll, an amalgamation of albacore, spicy tuna and fried onion. But it was the gratuitous piece of ono sushi with cucumber slush on top that got me. It’s not on the menu, but it certainly ought to be.
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