Before I left Seattle, I spent the last two weeks stuffing my face with the sublime sushi of Shiro about as often as I could. When I arrived here, I often asked people about local sushi, but most of the responses were the unsettling-at-best "K-town has a place!" A place? A place did you say? Just a place!?! To their credit, I don't think any of the people I asked knew the level of sushi snob whom had just approached them with what appeared to be a simple question. Nevertheless, I wanted to shake them. Do you know who I am? Do you realize I'm used to eating sushi like three times a week? Do you realize that Seattle has some of the best sushi in the US, that Vancouver some of the best in the world? Do you realize that I used to pick from no less than five regular sushi places? And that I now accept nothing less than Shiro's finest cuts on a nightly basis? Do you even know who New York Times lauded Shiro is? Do you realize his heavenly cuts have ruined other sushi for me?! You make me sick!! And so on.... I didn't say those things of course (I actually went with a swift knee to the stomach instead). In reality, all I could truly do was nod half-heartedly and try to feign some mild excitement at the prospect of 'K-town has a place.'
So for a while I put my sushi cravings aside and sampled more Euro-familiar restaurant fare when not enjoying Gwendolyn's fine cooking. I had walked by Sukiyaki several times while downtown, but as of yet hadn't mustered the courage to go in and try it. Apart from being a self-admitted sushi snob, I must say that "German sushi" as a notion had always just seemed more than a little off to me. As I walked by and looked at the place, I had pictured walking inside to see a large, barrel chested stoic German chef - a man infinitely more comfortable with breading and frying husks of meat (from animals he had killed himself with his bare hands, no less) than doing delicate cuts on sleek fresh fish. He would frown down at the sissy little fish before him, thinking any man who would sit and eat this to be not a man at all, truth be told. Then he would take his over-sized cleaver and lop off a random chunk, likely a piece that still had the eyeball on it, slap it unceremoniously on some rice, and shove it in your face with an expression that said 'you better eat this - right now'. And then proceed to stare you down and ensure that his unspoken command was carried out quickly and dutifully, else there'd be hell to pay. Another part of me just thought sushi in Germany to be an odd and uneasy pairing in general, just as the infamous German/Japanese World War II alliance had been.
Of course, all these thoughts were unreasonable. Obviously a sushi place anywhere was likely to have bona fide Japanese people working in it. Or at least one asian-looking chef. Thankfully, in that regard at least, Sukiyaki did not disappoint. When I walked in, I was greeted by an asian female (Korean, most likely) and seated. I was somewhat saddened to see Teppan tables in one corner of the restaraunt, indicating that this was one of those pan-Japanese-style restaurants in which different styles of food were served up. (You never see these tables in a great sushi place. And to my knowledge they are barely tolerated in decent places...) I immediately scanned for the sushi chef and he was there, oddly stoic (Germany rubbing off on him, I guess), waiting ominously behind a small sushi counter with a large sign behind him that simply read "Sushi". (The absurd obviousness of the scene made me smile and think that if Papa Stup were there, he would point at the guy and say "I bet he makes the sushi".) Thankfully, however, the chef appeared Japanese. And he seemed ready to cut and roll.
The menu wasn't too bad, with a lot of options similar to stuff in the states, but for some reason the orders of nigiri came in sets of three (never seen that before). There was a good old rainbow roll and some of the other familiars. Perhaps the most pleasant surprise of the evening was that the place served Japanese beer (haven't had one of those in a while either), and so I ordered a Kirin before settling in to scrutinize the menu.
When it was time to order, I asked the infamous "Haben sie Toro?" (Do you have Toro?). And then the waitress looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.
"Um, Toro - like fatty Tuna," I elaborated, over-enunciating the word 'fatty'. (funny on many levels)
The waitress hesitated, considered, and then took my menu and flipped over a page, and smiling, said, "You mean this Tuna?" whilest pointing at the obviously spicy, not fatty, tuna picture.
At that point, I almost slammed my hands violently on the table, pushed back my chair, stood up abruptly, and then declared ( loudly enough for everyone in the place to hear), "THAT'S IT - I'M OUT OF HERE!"
I didn't do that, of course, but I thought about it. Especially when some supposed sushi restaurant waitress didn't even know what Toro was, and worse yet deigned to confuse it's greatness with that bastard non-sushi otherwise known as spicy tuna. For shame...Sukiyaki.
(Side note - I hate spicy Tuna. Hate it, hate it, hate it. A total butchery of sushi, in my opinion - I don't need American southern spice corrupting my beloved food, destroying the exotic and exquisite taste of rice and fish. Never call me friend and then order it in my face. Consider yourselves warned....)
I let it go, though, knowing this was my one shot at having a decent sushi place nearby. I think I uttered something like, "Ein moment" instead, and the waitress walked away to get my miso soup and my beer. Then I reconsidered the menu. When she returned, I ordered a simple sampling - some maguro, salmon, and yellowtail nigiri, along with a tuna roll and a rainbow roll. A nice and simple variety, I reasoned, to see what this place was capable of. The waitress smiled and took my order. Then she walked off to the stoic sushi chef. (At this point, about 10 minutes into the restaurant experience, the guy had stood behind the bar the entire time, staring straight ahead, frozen, like he was guarding Buckingham Palace or something). When he received the order, however, he seemed to "activate" (like Robocop or a Terminator) and his hands shot out left and right as he did his thing. Taking note, I smiled contentedly and turned to the book I had brought with me.
The miso soup came. It was brown, I noticed with some hesitation, but it actually managed to taste like Miso soup. The beer came as well, and was good. And the sushi? Not too bad. Not great, but somewhere between decent and good, I would think. Either way, it felt good to eat the stuff again. It felt natural to be rubbing my chopsticks together, mashing the wasabi up in the soy sauce, and getting some fish down. It had been a while. I got full very quickly, and I wasn't even able to finish everything. (see side note)
(Side note: When I had gotten home earlier in the evening, i had no idea what I was going to do for dinner. I didn't have enough energy to cook something proper, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to go out either. The solution? Cheese. I took a hunk of Monterey Jack from the fridge and just started eating it. A lot of it. This is a direct consequence of Gwen being gone, I fear. Too lazy to cook, to tired to go out. Let's eat some cheese for dinner! It wasn't until much later, with a brick of cheese in my stomach, full but oddly not satiated, that I decided to shower and head out for some sushi. The end result, I couldn't quite eat as much as I normally would. Oh well.)
Near the end of the meal, I snapped a few pics of the place (below), paid the bill, and headed out. The fish was a little better than I had expected, though to be honest I was expecting it to be pretty bad. The price was too high as well - near 44 Euros for 2 beers and what I ordered above. Actually, looking at it now, it's a total rip off for the quality. I don't see myself going there too often. But at least I know now I have a place I can go, in a pinch, to meekly satisfy, if not truly appease, my dark sushi cravings.
But mark my words - if they ever mistake Toro for spicy tuna again, I WILL burn the place down.
The "Terminator" finally relaxes a bit. What does he make? Sushi. (Hint - check the sign)
No comments:
Post a Comment