Ben and I went out for a belated anniversary dinner on Tuesday.
I should note that most of the occasions when Ben and I go out without Sami, we go to one place: Sushi Bar Kazumi. As you may note from the Yelp reviews, they are a traditional Japanese sushi bar, and people looking for trendy americanized sushi are generally disappointed. Patrons who knew what to expect from a bona fide Japanese-trained sushi chef have been pleased.
We went this time with the intention of requesting omakase - to be in the chef’s hands. Needless to say, we trust Kazumi San, and have never been disappointed with anything we’ve eaten in his sushi house; we also had no reservations about a) dietary restrictions or b) cost. It was a special occasion, don’tcha know, so I promised Ben that I’d put aside my squeamishness and try anything that Kazumi San put in front of us.
It was, in a word, awesome. In two words, mind blowing, or life changing.
What Kazumi San served included:
Two trios of nigiri sushi, each piece dressed with individual flavors - I should note that I didn’t touch wasabi or soy sauce for the whole evening. We put ourselves in the Chef’s hands, and we trusted him to season each piece as he saw fit. This was no mistake - everything was perfect. What was amazing about the nigiri trios was just how subtle yet profound an impact a dab of sesame paste or plum sauce or scallion can be. There were flavors, but they accentuated the fish, did not mask it.
A whole fried fish bone with a nigiri duo - the fish bone was surprisingly buttery, helped I suppose by the battered-and-fried part. I couldn’t believe I was eating it, but I thoroughly enjoyed every unexpected bite, including the fish tail, which I ate at the Chef’s personal entreaty.
A monkfish liver and plum sauce hand roll - tiny roll; HUGE flavors. I never would have eaten monkfish liver in my former life, but the presentation was just right, and I trust Kazumi to know his seafood and have perfectly fresh, seasonal offerings.
Maki roll with scallops inside and avocado and snapper on the outside - this isn’t too far outside my comfort zone, though the scallops are perhaps more raw thatn I’m accustomed to. Yep, I got over it.
Nigiri of sea urchin with oyster - this was a study in texture and the order of introducing flavors to my palate. We each had two pieces of this nigiri, and for my first I ate it with the oyster against my tongue. I ended up tasting and smelling the rich, salty ocean air smell one might recall from walking the San Francisco piers. Not awful, but not a foody smell or taste. The second nigiri had the sea urchin against my tongue with the oyster as an accenting flavor and not overwhelming texture. And this I truly liked.
I ATE ALL OF THESE THINGS. Remarkable.
Not a smear of cream cheese nor a shred of imitation crab to be found; I got totally outside what I’ve generally known as “sushi,” which might be better described as sushi-inspired cuisine. This was the real thing, and easily the best culinary experience of my life - Ben agrees that it was truly great, but is (as usual) hesitant to quantify what “best” means. I’m sure that there were several more dishes that have by now escaped my memory. The ones I included were because they were so new to me as to be deeply etched in my brain. Kazumi San got me to eat battered, fried fish bones, for the love. I liked them! I’ll never forget that.
Parallel with the dinner was the conversation with Chef Kazumi. He was very encouraging as he could tell that I was pushing myself outside my comfort zone. He shared stories of his life in America, 28 years of running Sushi Bar Kazumi and his family in Japan, his eight years of sushi training and the difference between a true sushi chef and a “sushi maker.”
While we were there, one of the boys who works in the restaurant as a waiter came in with some friends. THe first thing they ordered was basically a huge pile of tiny octopi chopped up with roe and mushrooms and baked with ponzu sauce. Truth be told, it did not look very good to me, so I’m glad it wasn’t intended for us. We learned a lot about the waiter-boy as well. (Who must have been in later high school years, though he looked like he was 12 to our wizened eyes.)
At the end of dinner, Kazumi San even shared some traditional Japanese methods of everyday cooking, and told us about a good market we’d like to check out. And then he surprised us for our anniversary with a scoop of green tea ice cream absolutely buried under whipped cream and served with a fried banana. Outrageous.
I wish I had a clever wrap up, but just reviewing this all in my head has me on the brink of a food coma. The good kind.
