In order to do this, you gotta get up early. Like, 4 am early.
We had read some conflicting information about when and how you are allowed to go to the fish auction. All we read in common was that often the people are rude ad you really have to get the hell out of people's way there. I mean, how would you like it if you had a shit ton of people show up at your job, take pictures of you the whole time, and you're just trying to get stuff done? I can't imagine. Add to that mess the smell of fish, and a wet, bloody, and dangerous workplace.
We get up to take the first train at about 5 am. The market is pretty close. We walk there with no problem, because, in typical Cindy form, I figure out 3.5 weeks into my trip that my trip advisor app somehow magically works as a GPS compass EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO DATA PLAN and there is no wifi. We're living in the future.
We are way too late for the market. They don't let us in. THEY WONT LET US IN UNTIL 9, and that's 3.5 hours away. damnit. The guard kicks us right out. Politely. There are scores of men on small truck scooters - think Segway scooters on crack - racing past us in every direction. I'm petrified we're going to get over.
We go to where the two most popular sushi restaurants are. The most recommended is Sushi Dai. The second one is Daiwzushi, right next door. The queue for the first starts up at about 4:30 am, and when I was talking to the people who were 6th in line, they said they were already waiting an hour.
"Where did you start though," I asked.
"Oh, right here."
The restaurant has only 10 seats. And they don't rush anyone.
Fuck this. Do I need to eat a $50 breakfast? Do I need to eat a dinner's worth of sushi at 5:30 am? This is ridiculous. I'm going to walk around and go shopping. Maybe I'll change my mind. I'll think about it, even though with every passing minute my wait is sure to grow exponentially.
Lisa, Timeka, and our new girlfriend Anders decide they want to try, even though Lisa doesn't really eat a lot of sushi, Anders hasn't tried it, and Timeka won't. Anders is desperately trying to just try one single piece of sushi. nobody is letting her. The three of them go to a third place with only one person there. I never choose restaurants in foreign places with no one in them. And I especially wasn't going to do it at this food nerd Mecca. I was going hard or going home. They sit down and order raw tuna over rice and share it. I don't like raw tuna, although I'll eat it. Too minerally.
A really attractive dutch guy named Steve walks in by himself with a huge camera. We start talking about the market... Turns out you CAN get in, but there are new rules after the earthquake. You have to show up around four. If you are one of the first 120 people to show up, you get a colored vest to wear. One vest is blue,the other green. Each color gets admitted at a separate interval. No vest, no entrance. Fuck.
The tuna comes. Anders and Lisa are trying Timeka to try it. No way in hell. Timeka has surpassed every acceptable level of adventurousness, and she's done. DONE. I try to pressure her. She won't budge. I try it. It's fine I'm sure. I don't like it. I tell Timeka she made the right choice. She would have hated it.
i briefly contemplate staying there because Steve is very cute and very charming, but it's 6 in the morning, I haven't showered, im wearing last night's dress, I feel nasty, and really, who cares how cute he is.
I tell the girls that they don't have to wait for me, but I'm going to wait on a sushi line, Timeka, obviously done with this whole experience, and working on exactly zero hours of sleep says, "oh don't worry, I'm not."
The food nerd in me sits on one shoulder and tells me this is a once in a lifetime experience and I'm an idiot to not eat this sushi, even if it's early as hell, even if I'm not hungry, even if it's $50. The New Yorker in me tells me that there's no way in hell I'm gonna wait on a 2.5 hour line for this. I, in the middle, compromise. We're going to Daiwazushi.
I wait on line by my very lonesome at Daiwazushi. Only about a half an hour later, I am ushered in. This restaurant also only has about 10 seats, but it has two rooms. I am cramped at the sushi bar between a Japanese man and a couple from England, who are already quietly scribbling notes on what they are being served and taking pictures. they have no interest in talking to me.
Better. Just me and my chef.
My chef is calm and friendly, but not too much so. I am just trying my best to Observe what is happening and try not to offend my chef. From what i have read about sushi etiquette, you do not dip the rice in the sushi. You place the fish on the tongue and not the rice, so you can feel the texture of the fish. You don't use chopsticks, you use your fingers. Soup is meant to be sipped from the bowl. You don't mix the wasabi into the soy sauce. Also, in a place like this, you don't add wasabi to soy to your sushi at all, as the chef is supposed to be making it perfectly.
Of course, all of these things I do all the time at home. So I ask the chef if I am supposed to use my fingers. He says yes, and they've already provided me a wet finger towel to clean my hands. The Japanese guy to my left is using chopsticks. So, I use chopsticks.
I'm given a cup of green tea and a bowl of miso soup with seaweed floating in it and about 50 teeny clams, each the size of a baby fingernail. There's a woman who changes the tea cup at regular intervals, so that you have a fresh cup of hot tea.
It's an omakase menu, which means that the chef gives you whatever is freshest that day, and whatever he wants. He's putting them piece by piece on my plate, very slowly, one at a time over time. The Japanese guy is eating his sushi piece by piece as it is delivered; the English couple is waiting so they can have pics of the whole thing. I ask the couple if I can take a pic of their food, and I start eating mine.
I think the first piece I had was the roe. I knew i was in for a good meal. It was briny, soft, perfect room temperature, and felt a little oilier than I'm used to... The fattiness made for a great texture and carried that flavor for a long time. I took my time eating. And I've got this stupid, ecstatic grin on the face every time I have another piece.
As he's handing me each piece, he's telling me what they are in English. I'm replying with the word in Japanese, when I know them. "Fattiest tuna," he says. "O-toro," I reply. He says "very good!" I tell him I only speak food.
The standard sushi comes... A couple of grades of fatty tuna, a tuna roll, and remember what I said about not liking tuna? I'm wrong. Sort of. Te fatty tuna has a completely different taste. There was shrimp. Egg custard (Tamago) so sweet, creamy, and fluffy... Never had anything like it. There was more, and I was so delighted I couldn't keep count of how many there were. Not too much, maybe 10-12 pieces, and the final piece comes. It's eel.
"Unagi?" I ask. barbecued eel.
"no!" He proclaims. Asago. Freshwater eel. Their specialty. Delicious.
With each piece, I feel tears well up in my eyes. What a special thing to do, and how lucky am I to experience it. And I'm sad that Lisa didnt come with me, because I know she would've loved it, but I really loved just this moment with myself, my food, and my chef. And this was by far, the most amazing sushi. I even ate the uni, which is sea urchin, and it's akin to a soft, more livery foie gras most of the time. It was sweet, almost frothy, custardy, with no trace of offal taste.
At the end, the chef says, "would you like anything else?" I had been eyeing the raw scallop on the bar the whole time. I ask for scallop. Delicious. I had also been eyeing everything the Japanese guy was getting the whole time too... He got a completely different menu, and I don't know if it was a non-standard thing, or a different price, or whatever. I tried to ask but he didnt speak English, and I didn't want to bother my chef.
I then remember that it's omakase, and I should just ask the chef what is good. I am completely stuffed, and i don't know if everything I'm asking for is extra, but I just don't care. I'm going to eat until I can't take it anymore.
So I ask the chef what is good. He says, the sardine. And man, it really was.
I am so overwhelmed by the whole experience, when i go to the cute lady collecting the cash, I give her $100 and I'm thanking her and the chef, and well, anyone who will listen. She gives me change. I have no idea how much. I am punch-drunk. I come outside, and there's Lisa, Anders, and their new friend Steve, catching me in the act, tears welling back up.
There's talk of returning tomorrow.
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