Monday, February 21, 2011
A Sea Urchin Seduction
If you're a sea urchin skeptic like I used to be, then perhaps it's time to take a trip to San Diego.
Sea urchins, as I've come to learn, feed directly on kelp, and the kelp beds in San Diego are among the richest in the world. As a result, this purple porcupine of the sea produces in the second-largest city of California the biggest, fattest, and juiciest gonads—er, that is, after all, the part that is eaten.
Despite its insidious outer appearance, with its hard shell and spiky spicules, this edible echinoderm contains fluffy, spongy insides that are considered a premium delicacy worldwide (although the yellow-brown goo on the interior, the part you eat with seaweed and rice at the sushi bar, isn't exactly pretty either).
Nobu of San Diego, however, has a few ideas on how to dress it up. Wasabi salsa, perhaps? Maybe truffle oil, caviar, and a few flakes of edible gold? The sushi chefs went to town in their efforts to defeat my disdain toward this briny-sweet sea staple. Perhaps I never had it fresh, they insisted. Perhaps I never had it done right, they assured. Perhaps, perhaps...
But how could anyone resist a tray laden with plump golden-brown uni sitting atop a veritable glass of edamame puree, complete with the works and an accompaniment of seared scallop and tart baby peaches?
For effect, even a portion of the sea urchin shell was cut and used for display, as a chef might sometimes use pieces of crustacean shells for decorative purposes. It was a sea urchin seduction-platter, designed to enchant and convert me, so who was I to resist?
The transformation was complete, but now I was ruined for life: how could I ever eat uni elsewhere? Certainly, there are other cities in the world with top-grade sea urchin, especially in restaurants that serve it live as opposed to processed, but for the most part you don't get uni this grand in size and taste and presentation very easily, not to mention sauces like the house-made wasabi salsa, which contains onions and olive oil, or the ever-pungent and exquisite white truffle oil.
Without any add-ons, eating uni is like tasting the ocean, with a creamy consistency; it's smooth and raw and rich...and it's definitely an acquired taste.
Nobu
207 5th Avenue, San Diego
619-814-4124
Sea urchins, as I've come to learn, feed directly on kelp, and the kelp beds in San Diego are among the richest in the world. As a result, this purple porcupine of the sea produces in the second-largest city of California the biggest, fattest, and juiciest gonads—er, that is, after all, the part that is eaten.
Despite its insidious outer appearance, with its hard shell and spiky spicules, this edible echinoderm contains fluffy, spongy insides that are considered a premium delicacy worldwide (although the yellow-brown goo on the interior, the part you eat with seaweed and rice at the sushi bar, isn't exactly pretty either).
Nobu of San Diego, however, has a few ideas on how to dress it up. Wasabi salsa, perhaps? Maybe truffle oil, caviar, and a few flakes of edible gold? The sushi chefs went to town in their efforts to defeat my disdain toward this briny-sweet sea staple. Perhaps I never had it fresh, they insisted. Perhaps I never had it done right, they assured. Perhaps, perhaps...
But how could anyone resist a tray laden with plump golden-brown uni sitting atop a veritable glass of edamame puree, complete with the works and an accompaniment of seared scallop and tart baby peaches?
For effect, even a portion of the sea urchin shell was cut and used for display, as a chef might sometimes use pieces of crustacean shells for decorative purposes. It was a sea urchin seduction-platter, designed to enchant and convert me, so who was I to resist?
The transformation was complete, but now I was ruined for life: how could I ever eat uni elsewhere? Certainly, there are other cities in the world with top-grade sea urchin, especially in restaurants that serve it live as opposed to processed, but for the most part you don't get uni this grand in size and taste and presentation very easily, not to mention sauces like the house-made wasabi salsa, which contains onions and olive oil, or the ever-pungent and exquisite white truffle oil.
Without any add-ons, eating uni is like tasting the ocean, with a creamy consistency; it's smooth and raw and rich...and it's definitely an acquired taste.
Nobu
207 5th Avenue, San Diego
619-814-4124
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Blue Ribbon Sushi of Las Vegas
The new Cosmopolitan Hotel and Casino of Las Vegas may well be the latest destination for frolicking foodies everywhere. Its eclectic restaurant collection showcases famous names like STK and Comme Ça; star chef José Andrés has a new tapas diner here named Jaleo, as well as a Chinese-Mexican venture called China Poblano. And hailing from New York, last but not least, there is Blue Ribbon Sushi.
With winning plates ranging from the popular to the rare, Blue Ribbon Sushi serves it up fresh and fastidiously perfect–for a price. As one would expect, luxury expenses that befit a restaurant inside a luxury resort are found here; the dishes are diminutive yet cost more than what you would normally find for something of similar quality.
The King Crab California Roll for $22.25 is one such example. The compact six-piece presentation—also available with crab stick for $10, or with blue crab for $14—disappears in a few bites. It is undoubtedly tasty, although this roll is easily superseded by the one of the same name at the WP24 inside L.A.’s Ritz-Carlton, which for $16 offers a couple of extra bites and boasts a richer, sweeter crab flavor.
The Spicy Lobster Roll, for $17.25, is even less scant in size, and I was surprised that a traditional hosomaki with spicy lobster would also come with the more modern touch of crispy tempura flakes inside it, although that did lend a positive element to the texture.
But Blue Ribbon Sushi is better known for its rare fish, such as the Tasmanian Sea Trout (served with a dollop of mustard aioli) and Golden Eye Perch from Japan. There is even the traditional box-style sushi, available with Tamago & Uni, Smoked Sake & Shiso, and Hamachi Shiitake, the latter of which proved an excellent choice for this square-shaped delicacy. The yellowtail-encased sushi rice was nothing less than perfect, and the pairing with shiitake mushrooms at the core was delightful.
For $22, one can cull the Kanpachi Usuzukuri out of what seems to be an infinite menu of exotic taste explorations. Usuzukuri, which is the technique by which fish is "thinly sliced" in Japanese, is definitely a word that describes this slim sashimi, which is served with yuzu pepper and ponzu sauce.
Walloped by the whopping bill, my stomach whistling a tune as my wallet sang the blues, I reckoned the joint really did deserve its name—and such a beautiful and glamorous location.
Blue Ribbon Sushi at The Cosmopolitan
3708 Las Vegas Boulevard, Las Vegas
702-215-5500
With winning plates ranging from the popular to the rare, Blue Ribbon Sushi serves it up fresh and fastidiously perfect–for a price. As one would expect, luxury expenses that befit a restaurant inside a luxury resort are found here; the dishes are diminutive yet cost more than what you would normally find for something of similar quality.
The King Crab California Roll for $22.25 is one such example. The compact six-piece presentation—also available with crab stick for $10, or with blue crab for $14—disappears in a few bites. It is undoubtedly tasty, although this roll is easily superseded by the one of the same name at the WP24 inside L.A.’s Ritz-Carlton, which for $16 offers a couple of extra bites and boasts a richer, sweeter crab flavor.
The Spicy Lobster Roll, for $17.25, is even less scant in size, and I was surprised that a traditional hosomaki with spicy lobster would also come with the more modern touch of crispy tempura flakes inside it, although that did lend a positive element to the texture.
But Blue Ribbon Sushi is better known for its rare fish, such as the Tasmanian Sea Trout (served with a dollop of mustard aioli) and Golden Eye Perch from Japan. There is even the traditional box-style sushi, available with Tamago & Uni, Smoked Sake & Shiso, and Hamachi Shiitake, the latter of which proved an excellent choice for this square-shaped delicacy. The yellowtail-encased sushi rice was nothing less than perfect, and the pairing with shiitake mushrooms at the core was delightful.
For $22, one can cull the Kanpachi Usuzukuri out of what seems to be an infinite menu of exotic taste explorations. Usuzukuri, which is the technique by which fish is "thinly sliced" in Japanese, is definitely a word that describes this slim sashimi, which is served with yuzu pepper and ponzu sauce.
Walloped by the whopping bill, my stomach whistling a tune as my wallet sang the blues, I reckoned the joint really did deserve its name—and such a beautiful and glamorous location.
Blue Ribbon Sushi at The Cosmopolitan
3708 Las Vegas Boulevard, Las Vegas
702-215-5500
Friday, December 24, 2010
It's a Florida Thing...
Seriously, how about an Alligator Sushi Roll?
Unlike the Spider Roll, which only describes what the softshell crab inside resembles, the Gator Roll at Matoi Sushi in Tampa contains an actual tempura-fried alligator tail. What does it taste like? Well, like anything else that’s fried with lots of sauce on it—good.
As far as texture goes, it is a bit chewy, sort of a cross between the deep-fried rattlesnake tail they sell at the L.A. County Fair and your standard shrimp tempura.
At Matoi Sushi, most of the rolls are covered with similar toppings: avocado, eel sauce, the obligatory orange-hued spicy mayonnaise, and either seaweed salad or masago. The super-sweet Gator Roll, which is dressed to the hilt with condiments galore, tastes great but unless you knew there was a reptilian tail in every bite, it could just as easily pass for a calamari- or shrimp-based roll. It’s something you order for novelty’s sake. Besides which, most of the other Japanese menu items are pretty generic; Matoi Sushi, despite its name, actually specializes in Korean cuisine, featured on a separate menu.
Unlike the Spider Roll, which only describes what the softshell crab inside resembles, the Gator Roll at Matoi Sushi in Tampa contains an actual tempura-fried alligator tail. What does it taste like? Well, like anything else that’s fried with lots of sauce on it—good.
As far as texture goes, it is a bit chewy, sort of a cross between the deep-fried rattlesnake tail they sell at the L.A. County Fair and your standard shrimp tempura.
At Matoi Sushi, most of the rolls are covered with similar toppings: avocado, eel sauce, the obligatory orange-hued spicy mayonnaise, and either seaweed salad or masago. The super-sweet Gator Roll, which is dressed to the hilt with condiments galore, tastes great but unless you knew there was a reptilian tail in every bite, it could just as easily pass for a calamari- or shrimp-based roll. It’s something you order for novelty’s sake. Besides which, most of the other Japanese menu items are pretty generic; Matoi Sushi, despite its name, actually specializes in Korean cuisine, featured on a separate menu.
Matoi Sushi
602 N. Dale Mabry Hwy
Tampa, Florida
813-871-3233
602 N. Dale Mabry Hwy
Tampa, Florida
813-871-3233
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)