A Zen Moment Of Clarity

You would be forgiven, of course, if you thought it was a small surgery room. The walls are white, the lights above brilliant, and everything has a sterile sparkle about it. The stern faced man in the crisp white gown is holding a very very sharp knife. But the light blue aromas of fresh seafood, the steam from various percolating stews, and the restrained staccato dialogue among Japanese businessmen indicate an authentic Japanese culinary experience - and you’re glad you won’t be anesthetized.

The place seats eleven – five at the sushi bar and three pairs at three small tables. There is only the chef behind the counter, and a woman who mans the “front room.” The service is sometimes slow, but I never mind as I’m so entranced by the precise movements of our Japanese hosts. Take a look, for example, at the chef. Watch how his respiration is timed to the movement of his knife – he has the intensity of a classically trained pianist. Watch how he puckers his lips, focuses his steady eyes on the scallion slices balanced on the tips of his metal chopsticks as he rests them on top of a dish. He is a slight man whose delicate frame is matched only by the elegance of his creations.

Although the menu is written in both English and Japanese, you will always find a yellow post-it note of daily specials all written in Japanese. Before you fret, give yourself a break by ordering one of their beers or sake and just say “omakase” – roughly translated as “trust me” or “leave it up to me,” it is the equivalent of the chef’s tasting menu at a French restaurant. You’re likely to receive five to seven small courses.

On my last visit, the cost of the “omakase” meal was $42 – undoubtedly a bargain. It began with an amuse-bouche of pickled daikon radishes. A bit too bitter for my palate – I much prefer the earthy and salty hijiki, a type of seaweed with mushroom-like flavor and body, that he used to serve. Then came tofu with wilted spinach and dried shrimp. This too had been modified from the dish I used to be served, which replaced the uni with dried shrimp to a similar but slightly less interesting effect. Regardless, this is my favorite dish there. The course is served tepid, and the tofu has a nutty sweetness to it and a creamy texture that is complemented by the saltiness of the dried shrimp and the brightness of the spinach which binds the whole dish together. If a bowl of this simple and nutritious dish is what satisfies a monk in his monastery in the peaceful hills of Japan, sign me up.

Next came the steamed halibut, a small 3inch block sitting in the lightest broth, made with hondashi, I’m guessing, and sweetened slightly with sugar. A single stick of carrot, a cube of daikon, and a single snow pea leaned against the halibut – Richard Serra would have been impressed. Although the broth was perfectly light and superbly tasty, the halibut was a bit on the dry side. The sashimi and sushi courses followed. I won’t say much more about these except that you won’t find better sushi anywhere. The sweet soy sauce marinated tuna is a gem. After the fish, we had an egg custard filled with delicate surprises: small morsels of chicken, Japanese mushrooms, even a gingko bean. Surprise! To help wash it all down, the savory courses ended with a deeply colored mushroom miso soup. So deep and satisfying that I refer to it as Liquor of the Earth.

To end the evening, we were given a melon wedge. I looked at it: it was small, elegantly presented, and sat on a fine delicate bowl. Like all the other courses, it was almost too beautiful to eat. But that didn’t stop me. I was still hungry at the end, and that’s the one downside to this secret place. Afterwards, I almost always have to go grab a large crepe stuffed with ice cream and topped with whip cream to feel satisfied. And so I did again this time. As the ice cream melted down my hands (it takes two to hold that damn crepe cone) and I licked the whip cream off the sides of my still-full mouth, I had my very own zen moment of clarity: the more I tell people about this place, the less I'm likely to get a reservation.