HERMANO SEGUNDO LOST IN LA LA LAND: DAY TWELVE

Here is a little warning for any of you who may decided to come and spend some time in LA LA Land. Never, and I mean never start a conversation about sushi. Never.

Bugger me can they bore the arse off you about it and how good it is here and how bad it is in the rest of the world (Japan, anyone?) particularly New York a place with which the people of The City of Angels seem to have a slightly unhealthy fixation and not in a good Mother Theresa “let’s help the poor bastards out because they live in New York” kind of way, more in a Tobe Hooper “let’s skin the bastards alive” kind of way.

So when, Sybil suggested a supper of raw fish after she returned from a day at the office, I quailed slightly at the barrage to come particularly when she told me that her local “joint” Sushi Zo had just been awarded 1* in the brand new Michelin list.

You certainly would not mark it down as a Michelin place from its location in a slightly grim strip mall nor from the room itself, which hardly barked star standard, but the array of fish on display at the sushi station did give a clue that something different was on offer. So too did the announcement of the host, as we sat in front of Keizo, the serious faced owner/chef, that there was no longer any menu being offered, just “omakase” where the choice was to be left to him to keep feeding us until one side gave in.

The quality both in ingredient and execution was apparent from the first plate of sashimi, one of tuna and another of Kampachi (amber jack) and the following small dish of uni (sea urchin) coating a “noodle” made of shreds of squid, but it was the sushi that Sybil was really looking forward to.

Unlike so many places I have visited, where too much cold rice is used to bulk out smaller portions of fish, here the small and correct amount of rice was warm and infused with the perfect amount of vinegar. The texture was correct too, so the fish could be removed and dipped in soy sauce if instructed and replaced on the rice before transferring to mouth by hand or chopstick as preferred.

Few pieces needed added soy as many had received a dressing before serving and the quality of the toro (fatty tuna) was some of the best I have encountered with only a small amount of gari (pickled ginger) needed to clean the mouth before the next offering. If I had one criticism, and I usually do, I would have liked more of the sushi to have been served clean and without dressing so that the exemplary quality of the fish had chance to shine, but this is a minor weakness in an otherwise major experience and the fishy space dust pop of plump salmon roe in a small roll alone would make me forgive any other failings

By the time we had finished our last bite of a blue crab roll (picture of Sybil eating it removed to protect those of a nervous disposition) we had racked up a bill of $165, a lot to pay, but still worth it for sushi of a quality that we could only dream of in London (I will leave the people of New York to state their own case)

So, the people of L.A may well bore the backside off you talking about sushi but, based on the one experience in this neighbourhood “joint” they probably have good reason too.

You have been warned

CHISOU: "NOT TOO BAD AT ALL" SUSHI IN THE WEST END

My friend, Nick put it perfectly

“It’s good, but it’s not brilliant. Then again, that word is reserved for very few places these days”

He is absolutely spot on. These days, “brilliant” is an all too rare exception and the hunt is for “perfectly fine” or “not bad at all”

Shameful given the amount we have to spend on a meal out in London but all too indicative in the shift of power in the quality:cost ratio as punters are gouged for increasingly little return.

On that basis, Chisou on Princes St is a real little treasure. Very decent food at not too stupid a price served by friendly staff, the perfect place for me to celebrate the anniversary of my trip to Japan at the beginning of EAT MY GLOBE.

Alongside set lunches, a la carte sushi/sashimi offerings and the usual smattering of fried dishes, were some of the Izakaya staples which had become favourites on my visit and Nick’s request for me to order for him and his charming, if wilful thirteen year old daughter, Juliette gave me ample room to see if they passed muster.

Basics dishes such as edamame, tempura and pickles were good indicators of a competent kitchen out back and sashimi of tuna and marinated mackerel were signs that they knew what they were doing behind the open counter in the front of house.

Sushi was less impressive with the rice under sea bream and sweet shrimp nigiri sushi being too cold, but a piece of ungagi (eel) glazed with sweet soy was as good as you are likely to find anywhere in London.

It was the Izakaya dishes, which stood out. Tori Karaage (fried chicken) was crispy and the dense flesh strongly flavoured with soy, garlic and ginger. Best of all, the Yakitori, served as requested, two skewers with sauce, two with salt. Both excellent.

Nick was kind enough to pick up the bill of £100 for three of us including green tea and water, which brings it very firmly into the “not too bad at all” category and, in London at the moment, that is about as good as it's going to get.

LIFE: SUSHI BUT NOT AS WE KNOW IT

There was a pleasing circularity in having a Japanese meal tonight on my second night back in London, given that I began the last stage of the EAT MY GLOBE journey in Japan.

Unfortunately, that was about the only thing about tonight’s meal that was pleasing as LIFE on Old St, the latest entry into London’s burgeoning Sushi scene, proved to be a bit of a damp squib.

A shame really as the perma grins of the staff displayed a genuine sweetness that belied their hapless efforts.

Early signs were not good. A simple drinks order prompted eight questions (yes we counted) as the waiter struggled to come to terms with a simple order of tea, soshu and beer and still managed to come back with the incorrect drinks. Added to which, the time between courses would have allowed us to catch up with a couple of series of “24” as we waited and waited and waited for the different stages of our meal to arrive. From time to time, when food did arrive, it was often meant for neighbouring tables and was whisked away before we had chance to pick up a chopstick.

Much of this could have been forgiven if the food had been terrific. Indeed, some of it could be forgiven if the food had been any good at all. But, As HP put it “when you are serving raw fish, there is no place to hide” and in the case of LIFE, clumsy execution and lack of freshness in the raw ingredients were in full evidence.

An appetizer plate of pickled vegetables was not bad at all retaining a crunch and not being swamped by vinegar and a “spring roll” wrapped in shiso was pleasantly crunchy with salmon replacing the unavailable horse mackerel. Edamame, however were over salted and stone cold.

After a long wait a plate of assorted seafood tempura appeared which had been allowed to sit for too long until the batter lost its crunch and the white fish and prawns had begun to turn to mush. This was followed by sashimi of sea bass and sweet prawns that lacked the prerequisite sparkling freshness as indeed did plates of clumsily made salmon skin and spider crab rolls, nigiri of eel, fish roe and scallops which replaced the unavailable sea urchin.

Not dreadful, just flabby and looking as if they had been hacked inexpertly of dull eyed fish making us happy that we had not taken up the option of the more formal Kaiseki tasting menu option.

A visit to the basement of the restaurant saw the discovery of a small shop selling a disparate collection of the bizarre tat that the Japanese seem so fond of alongside a man with rather wild hair standing disconsolately by twin DJ decks as if he was waiting for a party that was never going to happen. One wonders if they had spent more on the fish than on Hello Kitty merchandise if he would have more people to appreciate his skills.

The bill for three of us came to £95 including service which, as I said was beguilingly charming for such an average experience. But, the bar of Japanese food in London has been raised much higher in the last eighteen months and this fell way below what is on offer even just in the environs of Clerkenwell and Shoreditch with places like Edoku, Ginnan, Tajima-Tei, Saki and Matsuri offering better quality at a range of prices.

Unfortunately, I can’t see LIFE having much of a life.

PHAM SUSHI: LOUSY SUSHI IN THE NABE

Way back when, scarcely after the beginnings of recorded history, there was a suggestion that I would need to go and spend an extended period of time in New York.

Of course, I railed against it. It is a fine city, no doubt. Possibly amongst the top 10 or so in the world, but I just could not imagine myself being that far from access to things of cultural importance.

One thing however did almost make me change my mind. The fact that NYC has staggeringly good Sushi places not just at the high end, but at every level and in every neighbourhood. London just does not come close.

I mentioned on a post when I first started this blog that my understanding of just how good Sushi can be came from when a then friend of mine took me to Jewel Bako in New York. It was an epiphinal experience filled with extraordinary tastes and delicate balance the like of which I had not experienced before. It is one of the few moments of eating that truly changed the way I thought about food. More recently, the Omakase at Yasuda took it to another level again. Although I am no longer in touch with the friend in question, she retains a fond place in my memories not least for this reason.

Even at the meanest neighbourhood level in NYC it is possible to get sushi of a level that London finds hard to match. Sure, we have some exceptional places, Matsuri being my favourite. Also, we are developing some very acceptable neighbourhood options. Blossom is a good example ( although it has now closed in Hoxton Square and moved to a grim site under City Point ) Saki in Smithfield is as good as I get anywhere and there are a number of others but, there is just not the range that London Lite ( I mean NY ) has to offer

A number of people have told me that Pham Sushi, on my own doorstep, was a great neighbourhood place and one or two said it was amongst the best in London. I have been there once before but cannot claim to remember a single thing about the meal as the person I was with informed me as soon as we sat down that she loved me and the rest of the meal was, unsurprisingly a bit of a lovely blur. That, however is a whole ‘nother story.

Tonight after a brief drinkie with a chum in The Star & Garter in Soho, I had a real sushi jones, so hopped in a cab back to Whitecross St, the location of Pham Sushi and plonked myself at the bar.

The place was packed and they were turning people away at the door which gives testament to its popularity and made me think I was on a winner.

Wrong.

A simple order of a mixed tempura and a mixed set of Nigiri, Maki and Sashimi seemed a perfectly decent way to try out the place, particularly when added to an extra order of sweet shrimp nigiri.

But, quite frankly, it was dreadful. The tempura was oily and lacked any crispness. The sashimi was lacking in freshness. Not off, just lacking the spark. The nigiri looked dull and the rice was mushy. Worst of all were the maki where a soft shell crab filling took more chewing than half a yard of biltong.

Quite awful.

With one beer, the bill was a massive £30. Hardly a neighbourhood price and certainly not acceptable for the level of sushi that would have any owner in New York run out of town on a rail.

There are very few moments indeed when I regret not taking up the offer to live in NYC. When I am craving great sushi forms the majority of them.

This was not great sushi. Far from it and I did not even get the compensation of someone telling me they loved me.

Ho hum

TAJIMA-TEI

TAJIMA-TEI: ME, MAGDA and MAKI

Supper tonight with my ex, Magda

It's always a pleasure. Primarily, because she has the appetite of a small sparrow and consequently, I am left to finish off whatever is left. A task to which I have proved more than equal.

Tonight, after a swift Martini at Match EC1 ( both well made as ever. Mine with a twist, hers with two olives and a slick o brine ) we headed up to Leather Lane, a slightly grim St near Hatton Garden that runs between The Clerkenwell Rd and Holborn. There are a number of Japanese restaurants in this area. Primarily to serve a large ex pat community working in banks and legal firms. Matsuri is the best and best known but there are any number of others littering the side streets.

I almost never walk down Leather Lane, but did so the other night when a little early for my supper at The Trading House and came across Tajima-Tei. Peering in through the window, it was packed and so, I called in and booked a table for our supper for tonight. I am very glad we gave it a try.

When we arrived, it was, bar one table, empty. By the time we left, it was filling up, primarily with Japanese businessmen.

As mentioned before, I am no expert so forgive me if we ordered like rubes and did everything the wrong way. What the heck, people get very up themselves about the correct way to eat sushi. I love it, but in the end it is fish and rice. get over it. You can have too much of this "in Japan, they stand on one leg, grasp the nigiri between the second and third fingers of their left hand, dip it in blah blah blah"

Anyway, To begin, some hot sake and some edamame peas.

Then an assortment of Tempura. So often when I have this, the frying is greasy. Not so here. It was spot on. I could really eat plate after plate of this.

They had a number of specials and one of them sounded too good to miss. Seared bonito with shaved green onion, daikon, grated pickled garlic and fruity soy sauce. A great combination and at £8 very good value

We ordered three Nigiri, Toro, Unagi and Uni. The Uni was the weakest of the three. A far cry from the unctuousness of that at Yasuda, this was firm and slightly rubbery. The unagi though, was excellent quality.

Also, Maki of squid was very fresh if a little bland. Futomaki of Salmon and Salmon Skin was a little crude not that it stopped me polishing it all off when Magda was unable to eat any more.

With a bottle of sparkling water and a deserved service charge, the bill was £65 for two.

I would put Tajima-Tei at the level of a decent neighbourhood Sushi place in NYC. That is no bad thing as if there is one aspect of NYC that I really envy it is the ability to find sushi of good quality around every corner.

This is not quite around the corner, but, fortified by a Martini en route, I can certainly see myself going there again. Hopefully with Magda. I get to eat so much more.