Sensory Overload: The Urasawa Experience

If Urasawa is not what a perfect dining experience should be, then I doubt anything else in LA could be. Granted, the cost is prohibitively expensive, and if I were to come back more than once, it would weigh more heavily on my review. But for a one-time visit, I felt good dropping $540 for the six-hour dinner. I suppose the cost just didn't bother me because I knew exactly what I was getting into fully anticipated handing over my paycheck to the Urasawa Corporation.

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Hiro in intense concentration

The most common response I receive when describing my meal is always, "Was it worth it?" To most people, the idea of paying this much for a dinner is outrageous. But to them I reply that it is precisely that type of thinking that makes it so expensive. It isn't just a dinner, it's an experience. Why would you pay for a concert when you can download the song for a dollar? On the surface, if you view dinner as just a form of sustenance, you're doing yourself a disfavor. A life of subsistence is not a life worth living. People take pleasure in different ways; this happens to be my vice. But hopefully I can convey to those who don’t already know the multi-faceted pleasures of eating.

Throughout the night, I constantly found myself rubbing my palms and fingers against the silky smooth blonde wood of the bar. The attention paid to this counter was indicative of the meal to come. No varnish, no sealant, this wood was sanded daily to a soft finish. It was a theme I noticed throughout the night, elegance in simplicity. All ingredients served a purpose; the experience was sensory on all levels. Whereas most use of gold leaf is ostentatious and completely unnecessary, its effect as a visual stimulant spoke to the complete sensory arousal in this meal. Too often sushi is too flashy, especially in American rolls, monstrous creations often appropriately named Godzilla. Elegance in simplicity comes with care and expertise, not with a squirt of rehydrated “eel sauce” and hastily battered tempura. Our first course had the weighty responsibility of setting the standard for the night, but the toro senmai-maki demonstrated a graceful interplay of seared tuna belly wrapped monkfish liver, garnished with shiso, topped with caviar and dashed with ponzu. Layer after layer of flavors hit me, as each ingredient harmonized yet played its own melody. Like the successful concerto, culminating in rich euphony, this was a great way to start the meal.


First course: Toro Senmai-maki

Even if it's not his intention, Chef Hiro Urasawa is an entertainer. The fact that this is dinner and a show helps to soften the wallet blow. With your seat in front of the master himself, you are privy to watching the exquisite knifework and attention to detail. Had I not been seating in my prime spot, I wouldn't have enjoyed the experience at quite the same level. He answered our questions cheerfully, and I could tell when he took out his prime Ichigin junmai daiginjo sake that his passion is really in his craft. Our Cristal failed to impress him; he’s seen all manner of victuals over-hyped. It was Brian’s bottle of Nihonbashi 2007 Gold Medal winner sake that made Hiro’s ears perk. I would’ve scoffed at any hip hop glamorizing this bottle, but it was music to my ears to hear Hiro exclaim “so good” after a taste. That was how the entire evening felt; he was enjoying it right along with us, talking, joking, sharing.


Hiro displaying his Ichigin Sake

While there were several dishes I've never encountered before, most of the menu was fairly familiar for a regular Japanese food consumer. Of course, it was the highest quality examples of said items. I didn't mind that there was nothing so rare I would find no where else. The Saga beef, wagyu from the Saga prefecture was unique enough by itself. No Kobe here; I’m convinced now that Saga is the only way to go. The beef, whether seared lightly on top of sushi or braised for three-days with snow pea, had tenderness without sacrificing meaty flavor. Carved from the block of cow behind Hiro, the meat could be chewy in one moment, and melting the next. Texture influences so much of the sensation of flavor that we too often forget that the touch of your lips, tongue and teeth are integral to the eating experience.


Seared Saga Beef Readied for Sushi


Three-day braised Saga beef

I'm certain that the menu would be quite different coming here at another time during the year. For our early Spring dinner, the variety was not quite so extensive. One seasonal difference—the shabu shabu course of amaebi, Saga beef and foie gras came in metal bowls instead of the summertime paper. A quick dip in the broth and the shrimp was ready. Sweet as is, a splash of dashi helped bring out flavor depth. The unctuous beef and goose liver inundated the soup, making the resulting broth richer than many French stocks and so full of umami that I hesitated to swallow, lest one mouthful be gone. As indescribable as umami is as a flavor, I would direct you to Urasawa’s shabu shabu for a demonstration of its full potential.


Individual shabu shabu

The orchids along the wall are supposedly hand-picked by Hiro. I’ve heard of chefs personally picking the fish for the day, but Hiro goes beyond the food. He knows that he has staked his reputation on more than just the food; he has to make everything beautiful. While “stunning” is not usually a word used to describe Japanese food, the hand-carved ice block with Spanish toro, Kyushu tai and Toyama kanpachi flanked by a clean white orchid and bright orange slivers of Kyoto carrot was much more stunning in person than in the pictures. Colors abound, the taste almost took a backseat to visual appeal in this course…almost.


Sashimi platter

Most of the night was marked by a myriad of aromas, sometimes in front of me, sometimes wafting in from behind the curtain. The smell of the shiitake mushroom, grilling on the back-counter made me anxious for the renowned shiitake sushi, the only place I’ve heard it served before. Though the flavors of the fungus and the rice were slightly incompatible, the smell of wood permeated my nose. Yet this course paled in olfactory indulgence compared to the kani miso korayaki grilled hairy crab innards topped with uni. Each diner got his own hibachi with a simmering shell. Each bursting bubble sent waves of crab aroma into the air. My favorite course of the night.


Simmering hairy crab

We got to walk behind the bar after dinner and witness a huge kitchen for such a small front. I was somewhat dumbstruck by the massive mechanism behind the scenes, pushing forward twenty-six dishes or so to ten anxious diners. Come to Urasawa with an open mind and ready body. Hiro’s dishes hit all your senses, putting your body at ease so that your mind can enjoy. With your head floating in the Nirvana of culinary delight, you can truly forget the weight of your wallet.

Special thanks to Yoko for providing the photographs. Thanks to Kevin for his notes and borrowing his kick-off phrase. To all else who joined me on this adventure, I appreciated you sharing it with me.

For the play by play, please visit Kevin or Kung Food Panda's blogs.

Urasawa
218 N Rodeo Dr,
Beverly Hills, 90210
(310) 247-8939
$350 omakase pp

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South Bay Japanese Marathon

What do bloggers do in their free time? We eat; that's a given. But we also meet up to eat. In this case, we journeyed the South Bay one Saturday afternoon, searching for our Japanese fix.

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Organized by the multi-talented Fiona of Gourmet Pigs, this marathon had been in the making since our last expedition into the concrete Jungle. We teamed up with Javier the "Teenage" Glutster, Mattatouille, Choisauce, RumDood, Pepsi Monster, and budding blogger Danny for this trip. My girlfriend Yoko proved essential for some of the translations and the photos on this entry.



First stop: Gaja for okonomiyaki, a type of Japanese crepe/griddle cake. Made from yam flour, filled with ingredients, and fried on a teppan, this was my first experience at an okonomiyaki-ya. Thanks to the hot tip from I Nom Things, we were able to discover this fun DIY place. She even has several recipes if you want to try it at home. Of course, if you can't figure out the Japanese instructions, you can also get help from the friendly staff. Remember to proclaim "Yes!" in a tone as to indicate to your waiter your satisfaction for his efforts.

Here's the waiter helping with spicy cod roe, mochi, cheese monja-yaki, a creamier, more gooey relative of the okonomiyaki. The monja-yaki is fried to form a crust, but then mashed and eaten with individual spatulas. This particular monja-yaki had the miniature texture of the cod roe and the runny mochi and cheese.

Pre-cooked

Not terribly appetizing in appearance, but fun to eat nonetheless


Our Modern Mix Okonomiyaki had beef, squid, oysters, noodles, egg and preserved ginger, a seemingly odd mix, but formed a satisfying pie. Topped with the special sauce, Kewpie mayonnaise and bonito flakes, this could easily make a decent meal for the hungry traveler. Unfortunately, the life of a marathoner is tough; it was one slice, then out the door for our next stop.



Second stop: Patisserie Chantilly, a delightful Japanese desserts shop. The picture at the top of the page is from Chantilly. Our large group rolled in and took over the small place. We laid down $3 each and partook in a foodie communism experiment. A communal order of three macarons; black sesame, vanilla, and chocolate profiteroles; passionfruit mousse; cheesecake souffle; cheesecake bar; chocolate tart; and a white sesame blanc manger was put down and quickly devoured. Luckily, Pepsi Monster bought additional treats and donated it to the still hungry citizens. Funny how even in desserts, communism doesn't work.






If given the chance, make sure to try the souffle fromage, it is cheesecake heaven; at least you'll feel like you're eating clouds.


After a failed stop at Otafuku, our valiant troupe ended up at Hakata Ramen. Given that our soba stop fell through, we entered into a furious debate over a suitable replacement (I only say furious because at this point we were starting to get hungry again). Before our table was ready, we hopped back into the caravan and drove down to Ichimiann Bamboo Garden for homemade soba

It certainly doesn't take much to constitute a "bamboo garden." But I guess if it took acres of bamboo to be considered a forest, pandas wouldn't be so endangered. Of course I quickly got over the lack of foliage when I sat down to my platter of cold zaru-soba, a refreshing mound of buckwheat noodles served with accompanying dipping sauce. I found each noodle to have springy integrity...chewy, a little before al dente. According to Matt, the sauce is mixed with soba water afterwards and drank. I preferred the brown rice tea instead.




Last stop: Izakaya Bincho, the charming mom and pop restaurant with extremely demanding chef/owner. On that day, the staffing situation was even worse. With a sick wife, the husband manned the entire place by himself. Although it's not unheard of for him to turn away customers, the restaurant stayed especially empty that night. This was my first visit since its closure last year as a yakitori. The tsukune chicken meatballs, which were godly last time, disappointed this time, probably due to the lack of bincho charcoal. Juicy as usual, but there just was no depth of flavor you'd get with the ashy charcoal. Instead, the braised pork belly shined. Despite the overexposure of pork belly these days, the chef managed to bring out the melty texture of the pork and supplement it with a rich braising sauce. He doesn't rely just on the fat of the dish as so many restaurants do. In fact, the long braising time made the whole slab fall apart enough to eat with a spoon. The tebasaki fried chicken wings with sweet and spicy sauce stole the show. Amazing flavors hit me all at once, intense at first, but gradually fading and lingering on the palate. The wings were deep-fried, but they didn't weigh me down. All I could feel was the crispy skin and the sticky sauce. With the decline of the tsukune, I believe the tebasaki is the new gotta-have-it dish. Though I will still give runner-up position to the agedashi tofu. The chef's dashi shows amazing care in its umami complexity. Plus large slabs of silken tofu make this a hearty dish for tofu.

Braised pork belly

Tebasaki (Deep-fried chicken wings)

Agedashi Tofu

As I've settled into my home in LA, I've found so much diversity in the cuisine. I don't know if there's anywhere else in the world with so many ethnic options within driving range. With denser communities, they start to blend and lose some of their uniqueness within each cuisine. LA's just large enough that you can find places that just specialize in okonomiyaki, Japanese desserts, soba and izakaya. We have so much at our fingertips; it's a shame if you don't take advantage of it. I appreciate that I can have a Japanese food marathon without even once mentioning sushi. That's the kind of dining city that LA is.

Gaja
gajamoc.com
2383 Lomita Blvd, Ste 102,
Lomita, 90717
(310) 534-0153
$18 per okonomiyaki though that can probably feed 3-4

Patisserie Chantilly
patisseriechantilly.com
2383 Lomita Blvd, Ste 10
Lomita, 90717
(310) 257-9454
$3-4 each dessert

Ichimiann Bamboo Garden
ichimiann.com
1618 Cravens Ave
Torrance, 90510
(310) 328-1323
$6 a bowl

Izakaya Bincho
112 N International Boardwalk
Redondo Beach, 90277
(310) 376-3889
Get here early on a non-weekend and pray for a seat
~$20 per person if you're eating at the end of a marathon

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Asa-tisfying Bowl of Ramen

After my disappointing Indian experience at Addi's Tandoor in Torrance, I was ready to give up on the South Bay. Of course, inomthings put me back on track, explaining that I was just not looking in the right places. She rattled off an exciting list of Japanese places for me to check out. Seeing as how I'm frequently driving down there anyway, it was time for me to check one of them out.

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It's not like I didn't know that there was outstanding Japanese food around Torrance. My trips to Musha and Izakaya Bincho (formerly Yakitori Bincho) were incredible, some of the favorite restaurants in LA. In fact, Asa is next to Sanuki no Sato an excellent udon-ya.


Having heard that ramen and takoyaki are the two things that Asa does best, I couldn't say no to either. Nor could I say no to this wonderful juicy chicken karaage. Fried nice and fluffy, it felt wholesome to put in my mouth without that repulsive slick of too much oil.



For the octopus, we chose mochi cheese takoyaki. For those unfamiliar, it is pieces of octopus battered, fried, and topped with sauce and bonito shavings. I'm not knowledgeable enough about takoyaki to make this claim definitively, but this felt like the bacon-wrapped hotdog of the fried octopus ball world. Biting into one of these morsels instantly brought back childhood memories of pulling the gooey strands off an extra cheese pizza. After this, I don't know if I can ever go back to mozzarella sticks.


Coming off my lackluster trip to Daikokuya, it took me a few weeks for my spirit (and my stomach) to crave ramen again. Daikokuya's ramen is NOT THAT GOOD. Yes, all you otaku fanboys can curse me in broken Japanese. But have a bowl at Asa and tell me that its ramen doesn't pwn Daikokuya. The noodles were thin, yet firm. Both the light assari style and heavy kotteri broths had a rich shoyu flavor and a ton of umami. The soup makes you smack your lips twice after the last drop is gone. I liked the bamboo shoots, which offered some texture contrast, but the chasu was irresistible. Maybe they don't use Berkshire kurobuta pork like Daikokuya claims, but I could easily go the rest of my life without having another one of those oinkers in my ramen if I could have Asa chasu instead.

Ultimately, I would go back to Asa because their ramen does what ramen should do. It is a comforting bowl that warms the body and makes me happy. If your ramen doesn't do that, then you know where to go.

Asa Ramen
18202 S Western Ave
Gardena, 90248
(310) 769-1010


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My First Warm Rice Omakase: Echigo

Nozawa-style sushi has been on my list for some time in all its saucy, warm rice glory. Sushi Nozawa, the home of the original "Sushi Nazi" Chef Nozawa, has been spit out apprentice sushi chefs left and right. Sasabune here, Sushi Wasabi there. I decided to go to Echigo because it has a reputation being a cheaper, more low-end Nozawa sushi restaurant. I wanted to try the warm rice sushi first at an affordable restaurant before going all-out into Sushi Nazi territory.

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I felt uncomfortable taking pictures at the Echigo sushi bar. The interior and exterior, part of a strip mall, doesn't scream high-end sushi. Also, since I came to Echigo to celebrate, I wasn't in a photojournalism mood. I was however, in the mood for a glass of jun shimeharitsu junmai ginjo, my favorite junmai at Tokyo Table's sake night. It was clearly as aromatic and crisp as I remembered, no harshness going down, and only a pleasant rice taste lingered on my palate.

At Echigo, the sushi bar is reserved for omakase only patrons. I had braced myself for the sticker price beforehand, and I didn't think I could get a good enough experience outside of omakase. What did bother me was that the omakase was a set course of one sashimi, eight nigiri sushi, and a blue crab handroll. The price is determined based on what's available. So far, my omakase experiences have always been "keep on coming till my stomach or wallet bursts." In the end, I think we received more than the eight pieces of nigiri, but I was still a Double-Double hungry afterward (after the Jungle Food Marathon, I'll measure satiety in In-n-Out Double-Doubles).

The sashimi course was actually three plates, a baby abalone, abalone liver and soft squid stuffed with blue crab. I've never seen a pretty little abalone shell so small, and biting through the crunchy flesh, I felt slightly guilty that whoever farmed it didn't wait for it to reach maturity. Unlike veal, which I have no qualms about eating, there's a catch limit on abalone. I'd rather wait for it to grow fully before adding it to the annual quota. Thought I'd be compassionate for the abalone--nope, it's a shellfish. I'm just thinking in economic terms.

The abalone liver tasted clamy and warm, not a particular inviting combination. Plus the raw taste of iron, which is always a liver deal-breaker, turned me off. Soft squid filled with crab could've just been a plate of blue crab. As I will discuss later with the blue crab handrolls, the crab was the star and the squid merely the container.

Our first nigiri was some surprisingly lean toro. None of that melt-in-your mouth, make you pray to Tuna heaven, deliciousness. The engawa (halibut fin muscle) was served warm, strange since I don't think it added anything to the fish. In fact, I could hardly taste any fish under all that sauce. Such a shame considering my favorite sushi is engawa. The hotate (scallop) tasted strangely more like a fish than a scallop.

Now the fish got a little more interesting. This was my first experience with sayori (needle fish), but again I couldn't taste any of the fish itself because of the heavy use of warm dashi sauce. As far as I could tell, needle fish doesn't have a distinct flavor of its own. Next, I got a pinkish fish that I could only understand as aji no kanpachi. It tasted like kanpachi although I'm not sure what "aji no" means. The chef put a large dollop of yuzu kosho pepper on the fish, giving it a spicy, citrus finish.

This was my first ono (butterfish) served raw. The chef served it with a small dab of sweet miso in the center. Its flavor resembled the miso-cured butterfish I had at Asia de Cuba. I guess ono and miso are a popular pair, although I think the fish has a memorable flavor by itself that may not be supplemented with sauce. The aji (Spanish or horse mackerel) felt cold and lifeless. It had no elasticity biting through the fish. I enjoyed the kinmedai (Golden-eye Snapper) and the spicy skipjack, but both had no memorable attributes besides sweet and tart respectively.

After a service of mostly lackluster, though somewhat exotic, sushi, the night culminated in the famous blue crab handroll. I could sing praises to the temaki, which I fondly recalled for days after the dinner. As far as I could tell, it was simply outstanding crab meat, but it tasted so rich I wondered if there was a secret mayonnaise addition. Echigo even offers a lunch combination of eight pieces of sushi and a blue crab handroll for $13. That would be quite a steal. In total, my omakase experience came out to about $48 pp plus drinks.

None of the sushi was terrible, but besides the blue crab, nothing seemed to stand out either. One complaint I had was that I couldn't taste the fish in some of the nigiri. Either it was masked by sauce or the fish itself just wasn't that flavorful. When it comes to sushi, I guess I like to keep it simple. I had the warm rice, and while it didn't detract too much from the sushi, it didn't seem to add anything to the food. I would be willing to try one of the higher end Nozawa places, but for now, Echigo's fine by me.

Echigo
12217 Santa Monica Blvd, Ste 201
Brentwood, 90025
(310) 820-9787
Omakase ranges. Mine came out to $48 pp, but it can only go up from there.

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The Big Black Noodle House: Daikokuya

Ah, living in Los Angeles with an affinity towards Japanese food, it's inevitable that I would stumble upon Daikokuya. But why does this little noodle shop gather so many supporters? As Rameniac, astutely points out, it is always overrun by "Giant Robot subscriber" hipsters searching for the newest "it" place. Certainly now that Daikokuya has been overhyped, it's on it's way down like the left-over noodles circling the garbage disposal. Those who are still waiting for hours outside the borderline sketchy part of J-Town are probably just a little slow on the times. Or maybe they really do find something special in each greasy bowl.

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I ordered the kotteri style ramen, extra fatty like I thought I would enjoy. In retrospect, enjoy is a tough word to apply when I felt sick to my stomach after eating a bowl of so much fat. Maybe it was my mistake for choosing the fattier bowl, but the normal bowl didn't look much lighter. Although the menu says the broth is prepared overnight and flavored with special sauce blends, I didn't get that much depth in my spoonful. The noodles didn't stand out in any way, a big disappointment in a famed noodle house. I suppose Daikokuya's fanbase comes from the Berkshire kurobuta pork, but watching the cooks slop the cold chashu into a bowl made the entire thing several notches less appetizing. The runny soft-boil egg was the most enjoyable thing floating in there.

Way overrated ramen

Besides the ramen, the salads served with each meal had some appeal. Chopped cabbage topped in the creamy Japanese dressing, it's simple but satisfying. Both the unagi donburi eel rice and the tonkatsu pork cutlet were also decent. That's the thing: Daikokuya makes good food, just not that spectacular a ramen. Of course, I do admit I have an udon bias, but I would not wait in line to get this ramen. In fact, we had to wait twenty minutes to eat at the counter at 4:40 in the afternoon. I'd much rather go to the nearest Santouka and not feel as sick afterward.

Tonkatsu

Salad

Unagi Donburi

Daikokuya
327 E 1st St
Little Tokyo, 90012
(213) 626-1680
daikoku-ten.com
$8.50 a bowl of ramen

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The Beef Secret's Out: Totoraku

It may not be so secret anymore, but it surely was not my own doing. Once the reviews started appearing on Yelp, among other places, it was just a matter of time before the Teriyaki House on Pico was known by its true identity--Totoraku, the Secret Beef restaurant.

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This dinner had been a long planned event. I had heard rumors of Secret Beef since I started blogging months ago. However, it wasn't until I met Ryan that I had my foot in that beefy door. The novelty about Totoraku was simply its exclusivity. You can't walk in without a reservation. I heard they used to go as far as locking their doors during business hours. Moreover, you can only get the elusive reservation by calling the direct line to the chef. He only grants reservations to people he knows, and he'll only know you if you've been there before. The key is to get in through a connection, then impress chef Kaz Oyama with the wine you're sure to bring. On that note, make sure to pour him a glass of your finest.

Well luckily, I know enough of the LA food community now to find a way into Totoraku. Through Ryan and Kevin, we got an early November reservation for twelve carnivorous bloggers and friends. Caroline from Caroline on Crack, Ore from Potential Gold and Fiona from Gourmet Pigs rounded out the bloggers. It was good company, made even better by the copiously flowing bottles of libations. Although I was able to distinguish between the wines, I still wish that I could better appreciate wine. But I'll never get there if I don't practice, and practice last night I did.

The dinner started with a dazzling tray of bite-sized appetizers: melon and prosciutto, lobster salad with jellyfish, asparagus with walnuts, king crab gelatin, Japanese tomatoes, steamed abalone with gold flakes, sockeye salmon, caviar topped quail eggs, and persimmon tofu salad. Considering this was served before most of the wine, I had the clearest impressions of these flavors. As is always the case, I don't think the gold added any flavor to the abalone, but it always does wonders for your self esteem. I had an odd experience with the crab gelatin; imagine little blocks of jello with pieces of crab suspended inside. The cantaloupe and prosciutto stood out as a winning combination. I've been experimenting with savory fruit combinations like apples and cheese, and melon and cured meat were no exception. In fact, Ore brought his smuggled culatello, aged 22 months and full of flavor. There's much tradition and technique involved in the curing of this contraband, but I can't speak on it with much authority. All I can say is that the culatello had an excellent finish, much smoother than the prosciutto served by the Chef Oyama.

Appetizers

Culatello

The first beef course was a beef sashimi prepared very simply. Ribeye sashimi surrounded a small bowl of special beef throat sashimi. Most notable was the texture of the sashimi, similar to a tartare but with a slight crunch of resistance. Throat sashimi is so rare in fact that a Google search of "beef throat" lists Totoraku several times in the first page of results. See what I mean about it no longer being a secret?

Beef throat and ribeye sashimi

Next came the actual steak tartare, tossed in a Korean/Japanese style. Kevin and I both came to the conclusion that it reminded us of Chinese jellyfish both in texture and flavor. Slightly sweet and incredibly chewy, this was probably as refreshing as beef gets.

Steak tartare

At this point, our table was inundated by raw plates of meat as our yakiniku grill was set up. Beef tongue served with a squeeze of lemon juice and grilled rare was the most memorable item of the night. I've had tongue before, but all too often it is too chewy and thus only good in small quantities. The tongue I had at Totoraku was both luxuriantly fatty and tender. We also had a filet mignon, which was a pass for me. Nice piece of meat, but I never think that filets offer enough flavor for me. We had both the inside and outside ribeye(also known as cap steak. The inside was lackluster in flavor, but the outside could only be described as "genuine beef". It saddens me that there isn't more great cap steak like this or the one at Josie.

Beef tongue

At this point, I was having a hard time keeping track of all the beef dishes and all the wine pairings we matched them with. Whereas the first set of beef plates were simply prepared with some coarsely ground pepper and large crystal sea salt, the last two were marinated. Boneless Korean short ribs and skirt steak rounded off our cow. Though both were delicious, they didn't set themselves apart from any other Korean barbecue. I think that's my issue with much of Korean food, the flavors are very bold, but lack complexity. The only difference between so many Korean restaurants is the quality of the beef--something in which Totoraku excelled.

I had been looking forward to the soup since I read Ryan's entry on his earlier visit. I had expected a hearty big bowl of Alaska king crab with miso and kimchee flavors intermingled. Instead, the soup was so pathetic, I'd rather not write anything more on it. Dessert was a refreshing plate of pistachio, white chocolate raspberry, espresso ice creams, and blueberry and lychee sorbets. The dinner started strong, but died off towards the end. The food just was not hitting on as many levels as I had hoped for the price and the exclusivity. However, my interest in the food had also shifted as more bottles were opened and I enjoyed my friends more and more.

Ultimately, I had a great night, but more because of the people than the beef. Better still, Masi Oka from Heroes was there on a date. It was an interesting experience, but not one I'd like to have again for $180. For the ingredients alone, I didn't see the price needing to be so high. If I'm paying that kind of money, I don't expect hole-in-the-wall style dining. However, I understand that the chef needs to keep his prices that high to maintain his business model. So though it was expensive, I am honored now to be a card carrying member of Secret Beef. Too bad soon it'll just be known as that pricey barbecue on Pico.

Totoraku
Phone number is secret
10610 W Pico Blvd,
Rancho Park, 90064
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Cool Things to Do with a Blowtorch and Fish: Kiriko Omakase

I recently tried Kiriko as part of my journey to eat at every restaurant on Sawtelle. Don't ask me for the exact parameters of my dine through Sawtelle journey since I am still deciding whether or not to go to Bar Hayama. But I did know that Kiriko, as one of LA Magazine's Best 75 Restaurants in LA, was on the top of my list.

More after the jump...

Finding myself alone for dinner on a Friday night, I decided to resume my list of Sawtelle restaurants. It wasn't until I was parking at a meter on Olympic that I decided which restaurant to try. I wasn't in a particularly spendy mood, but that had to change when I decided to go for sushi. The restaurant is small and subdued, nothing flashy or obtrusive to the meal. Even on a Friday night it was suspiciously vacant. There were a few tables and a couple finishing at the bar, but not as packed as I was expecting. This is usually not a good sign at places like sushi bars that require quick turnover on their fresh ingredients. However, after my dinner, I am glad that Kiriko is lesser known and I can get a seat at peak hours.

I mistakenly order a salad and an adult yellowtail sushi to start. I mention specifically adult yellowtail because this was listed as buri on the menu, which refers specifically to older specimens on their way to spawning. The flavor was therefore much more pronounced than it would be in a younger fish. Sufficiently satisfied with the buri, I decided to go for an all-out omakase.

Buri sushi

Shinji, my chef for the night, guided me into the dinner with a tai red snapper topped with grated wasabi and squeezed with lemon. Since tai tends to be a more delicate fish, it was nice to have some acidity in the citrus. I glanced at a bowl sitting above me on the countertop; sure enough, they had real wasabi root. I asked if I was eating the real thing or the imitation paste. He glanced in front of me, and placed a dollop of something slightly duller green next to the heap of wasabi. Real wasabi, a true rarity, tastes much more herbal and earthy than its doppelganger. There isn't as much eye-watering either. Given the chance, make sure you look for the real thing.

Next was a bonito with a little fried garlic on top. It tasted sweet, meaty and wholesome. No wonder bonito flakes seem to be used everywhere. But this was my first time having it as a sushi. The chutoro medium fatty bluefin tuna belly was satisfyingly melty, but not as decadent as some of the truly fatty toro I've had before. Next came a fish I'd never heard of prior to Kiriko - kinmedai Goldeneye Snapper. Besides sounding like a villain from a James Bond movie, the fish also has a soft white flesh similar to tai. Of course I didn't get much of that delicate flesh because Shinji went to town on it with a blowtorch. This wasn't a dinky brulee torch either, it actually enveloped the counter in flames. I later saw him do the same thing for a seared scallop sushi. It may be partly for show, but who doesn't love the tricks at Benihana.

I generally like ebi more than amaebi raw shrimp, but the one I had today was clearly very fresh, thereby incredibly sweet. It even tasted almost like lobster. Of course, the waitress later brought my the fried shrimp head, something I've never figured out quite how to eat.

Tempura shrimp head served with ponzu

Shinji served me wild king salmon with caviar next. I never had wild salmon sushi before, though I had heard that some people refuse to eat farmed salmon because it was terrible in comparison. Now I know exactly how those people feel. As with game animals, wild salmon had much higher concentrations of the flavors that make salmon what it is. Too often have I had buttery salmon that is indistinguishable from any other heavily marbled fish. The mirugai geoduck had a few drops of lemon to mask the ocean flavor. I had both aji jack mackerel and saba blue mackerel. Though saba tends to have a heavier vinegar flavor due to the preparation process, I found this saba to be almost as subtle sweetness as the aji.

I'm not usually a fan of ikura salmon roe, but this one was juicy and not at all briny. Too often it suffers from an overwhelming fishiness, but this ikura lacked it completely. It probably was a function of freshness. A good fish market should never smell like fish! I felt pretty full at this point and asked for one last piece. Shinji pulled out a tub of thick, brown sauce and stirred gently as it warmed. This was unagi freshwater eel sauce, not to be confused with the separate sauce they use for anago saltwater eel. I'm usually turned off by the sweetness of the eel, but there was none of that this time. Still, eel just didn't appeal to me as a sushi. I wouldn't mind it as part of a donburi instead.

Ikura salmon roe

With the sushi portion of the meal over, I asked for a dessert menu. I had heard that Kiriko prepared homemade ice cream that was amazing. Unfortunately, they do not allow customers to have dessert only, according to a Yelp review. The bark menu listed wild honey vanilla, honey sesame, bitter green tea, and brown sugar and ginger flavors. Upon recommendation by Shinji, I chose the brown sugar ginger. Turns out that the sushi chefs know their desserts too, otherwise every one of their ice creams is top notch. Be sure to try one on your own visit.


Physically and spiritually content, I rose from my chair and bid farewell to my chef, who had been the most important person in my life for the last hour. I reached to shake his hand, but realizing that it would probably have been a health code violation, he gave me an appropriate fist bump instead. I regret not chatting him up more, though I can rest assured there will definitely be another trip. Even better, I got out of there for less than $90.

Kiriko Sushi
11301 W Olympic Boulevard
Suite 102
West LA (Sawtelle), 90064
(310) 478-7769
kirikosushi.com
I had omakase for around $70 with the above listed items

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O Rly? Actually it's Orris on Sawtelle

Orris, with its whimsical font, has always been in the corner of my eye in the last four years. Everytime I pass through Sawtelle, I always see the purple sign beckoning. But it wasn't until this last weekend that I finally dropped in.

More after the jump...

HC of LA OC Foodventures and I have been planning to come to this restaurant for weeks. Things came up, including a rushed LASIK surgery on my part, and we pushed the dinner back. Eventually, the two of us and my girlfriend found an early Saturday night to try the place. Pronounced "Ore-reese" as explained by the waiter, the restaurant is a Japanese inspired French restaurant serving tapa style small plates. If that isn't a mouthful, the portion-sizes certain aren't either. The menu is split into two simple sections "hot" and "cold." Inside, I found the place tastefully decorated and the waiter knowledgeable and charismatic. In fact, so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if this was his day job and he spent his nights rehearsing his audition monologues like the rest of Los Angeles' waitstaff.

We decided to order two dishes each, a hot and a cold. In the end, six dishes for three people was slightly too little so we topped it off with a dessert. The crab and cucumber salad had a creamy ginger sauce but otherwise tasted plain. I could see it being a more successful dish if the crab itself was better. Being from San Francisco, I tend to be a dungeness crab snob. Also, a crab salad should not have pieces of shell. The braised duck breast with yuzu chili paste did not have much duck flavor and should be avoided.

Crab and cucumber salad

Duck breast

The star of the night was ordered by HC--trio of smoked salmon croquettes with caramelized onions, creme fraiche, and flying fish roe. The amazing combination of both tastes and textures could hold its own as either an appetizer or even a light main course. Sweet onions combined with the tart cream and smokey salmon to top the hashbrown consistency of the potato pancake. Little tobiko bits brought briny flavor grainy texture. I'm beginning to think that smoked salmon makes anything better, just as my previous theory with bacon at Fogo de Chao.

Salmon croquettes

For the heavier side of the meal, our Berkshire pork medallions were tender but not much more. The heavy peppercorn sauce covered everything. The shrimp mousse in the ravioli was hardly a factor in what amounted to more of a wonton than a ravioli drenched in a shiitake mushroom sauce. Served with a side of bread, the shiitake sauce made a great dip. Our foie gras in sweet-soy reduction finished it off with a nutty seared texture. I'll admit, I rarely have foie gras, but it always reminds me of uni. It's something I'll eat, but probably not order exclusively.

Pork medallions

Ravioli

Foie gras

The banana and fig flambe lacked the tableside pyrotechnics I like to see in flambes. Also, the menu said blueberries, which were clearly lacking in our dessert. It was the first time I've seen figs with ice cream, but they did a great job cutting through the sweetness. My greatest discovery was actually my beverage for the evening--Asahi Black. Unlike most Japanese beers which are far too light for my tastes, this one had body and depth, but still tasted pure and refreshing. Overall, I wasn't too impressed with Orris. But if I'm looking for something Japanese with a little more French, I'd return. If I'm looking for Japanese with a little more Italian, it's off to Restaurant 2117.

Flambe

Orris
2006 Sawtelle Blvd,
West Los Angeles, 90025
(310) 268-2212
$10-15 per plate

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