Delights of Kanto (8): Sushi dinner at Kyubey Ginza (久兵衛 銀座本店), Tokyo

This evening, with no prior reservation we tried our luck at the main restaurant of Kyubey in the Ginza area for our first true spot of fine dining in Tokyo, and our second sushi meal of the day (after Daiwa in the early morning). This venerable institution, established in 1935, came highly recommended by a few Japanese friends, and it would seem that most people who are looking out for fine sushi experiences in Tokyo will be directed to Kyubey first. (Well, there's Jiro's too, but that's a lot more inaccessible for the common man...) Apparently, many former sushi chefs of Kyubey have gone on to open hugely successful restaurants of their own (including Takahashi Saito of 3-starred Sushi Saito, even more highly regarded by the Japanese and more difficult to get into than Jiro's), so one could also say that Kyubey plays an integral role in training young aspiring chefs, and contributing in a wider sense to continued excellence in this profession. Anyone who has researched what makes a great sushi chef knows just how long it takes to master something that looks so deceptively simple.

Despite Kyubey's elevated status the initial reception was extremely warm, and the space is surprisingly large for a fine restaurant (5 floors of sushi counters plus a few private rooms), so we were admitted immediately despite not having a reservation. We arrived at about 7.30 pm, and would find out later that the restaurant only takes dinner reservations up to 7 pm anyway; after that it's first come first served, so do expect a longer wait during the peak tourist seasons. (It is now winter, and the restaurant was understandably somewhat emptier.)

We were directed to the top (5th) floor via the lift and given seats at one corner of the counter, which was great as we had a bird's eye view of what was happening throughout the evening. Our chef (pictured in front with his hands raised animatedly as he talked to another couple) was Mori-san, a very humorous and friendly guy who knew the names of all the fishes in various languages! When I told him that we were from Singapore, he immediately mentioned Shinji Kanesaka as a close friend, as this famous sushi chef has a branch in Singapore's Raffles Hotel in addition to his 1-starred Tokyo flagship. Well that's one important connection there! It was clear from the beginning that Kyubey was totally foreigner-friendly, and would be a great base from which to sample and learn about fine sushi. Many other high-end Japanese restaurants may prove rather intimidating for foreign visitors, especially if they do not speak the language.

We probably got the 'foreigners' floor' - an Italian couple came soon after us, and there were already quite a few people from Hong Kong at the other end of the counter. This would usually be a cause of concern for me as (clueless) foreigners are often known to receive somewhat inferior food and service compared to Japanese people - it is still a relatively closed society after all - but thankfully as it turned out, our location didn't detract from the food or service in any way. As far as I could observe and taste (being my first high-end sushi experience) this evening was entirely authentic and enlightening. The space felt ample, bright and cosy, and we were genuinely welcomed and set in the right frame of mind to savour the feast ahead. Already I preferred this place to Daiwa, even though it costs a few times more to eat here.

We went for the omakase nigiri set at 10,000 yen (excluding service and tax), which happens to be the cheapest option at dinner. For that price you officially get 12 pieces of sushi plus soup, though we did end up eventually with a few more nibbles - no complaints there! There is also a more elaborate nigiri set at 15,000 yen (16 pieces, with extra sashimi), as well as sushi kaiseki sets (with other cooked dishes in addition to nigiri) for even higher prices, but we decided to focus only on nigiri, which is probably what Kyubey does best.

In better sushi places in Japan, the fish is slightly aged then brushed lightly on the surface with nikiri (a thick and mildly sweet sauce, made by reducing a mixture of soy sauce, mirin, sake and dashi stock) or nitsume (a similar sauce, only for boiled sushi toppings like anago, octopus, clam, prawn etc., with an anago-based stock instead of dashi, and even thicker and sweeter due to heavier reduction and the use of sugar instead of sake) by the chefs prior to serving. Specific recipes for nikiri and nitsume are heavily guarded by restaurants as these distinguish their sushi from those of their competitors. Plain soy sauce has no place in high-end sushi as its strong taste easily overpowers the complex subtleties of good fish. Needless to say, you just eat the sushi as the chef hands them to you, with no additional seasoning required. Only pickled ginger is provided as a palate cleanser between pieces.

The small dish of soy sauce you see in the next photo was actually for dipping the wakame seaweed and shredded daikon. These were refillable throughout the meal and I couldn't get enough of them!

As you will be able to observe soon from the balanced proportion of fish to rice, beautifully cut fish, perfectly shaped and solid rice balls, and well-defined individual grains, Kyubey's sushi had a finesse that is unlikely to be matched by your average Tsukiji restaurant, where speed and high customer turnover are paramount.

In terms of taste, the sushi here was also infinitely more subtle. The rice was very slightly warm and had just the right amount of acidity from vinegar and mirin, which would help to highlight the natural flavours of the various fishes effectively. I would also observe that many of the fishes were more tender in texture and deeper in flavour, possibly the result of having been allowed to age slightly, just like good wine. In hindsight, fresh fish straight off the Tsukiji harbour had been pleasant in its own way but it was just that - one-dimensional, no complexities whatsoever - and also somewhat firmer and chewier due to rigor mortis not having set in completely (some people do like that though - a matter of individual taste I suppose).

Moral of the story: you get what you pay for.

We started off with an excellent cut of chutoro 中トロ (medium tuna belly).  This was already full of rich fatty goodness and quite melt-in-the-mouth - what would the ootoro be like, I wondered! The mild acidity from the rice and a light brushing of nikiri on the surface of the fish both balanced and enhanced the flavour of the chutoro very nicely. Visually, too, this cut was extremely appealing with its unusually long flowing lines.

Next, karei カレイ (halibut) with a touch of Japanese chives. The beautifully translucent meat had a firm texture and delicate sweetness, and the chives sandwiched between the fish and the rice contributed lovely aromas with each bite.

Buri ぶり (amberjack) followed. This fish is now at its seasonal best; the ones caught in winter are usually the mature fish, also known as kan-buri 寒鰤 (lit. 'cold amberjack'). This thick-cut piece before me, with its characteristic red muscle and a bit of skin left on at the edge, was extremely succulent and its deep pink flesh possessed a rich buttery flavour not unlike the best bluefin tuna, due to its high fat content. (In fact, in less expensive restaurants, especially overseas, it is often used as a cheaper substitute for tuna.)

Ika イカ (squid) was next, and this came with a touch of sea salt sprinkled over the surface of the squid. I'm not usually a fan of squid as I find it rather tough and bland whether raw or cooked, but this was surprisingly tender and palatable. The sea salt really did help to enhance the taste of the squid and highlight its freshness - not even a drop of sauce over its surface was needed here. I also noticed that there were numerous fine slits made into the squid, which could explain why it was so easy to chew through despite being rather thick.

Next, one of my favourites in any sushi meal, uni 雲丹 (sea urchin). This was as sweet and creamy as I would have expected, and felt even plumper than the one we had had at Daiwa. The brushing of nitsume was in this case pretty unusual (since uni is always eaten au naturel as far as I have experienced), but effective in boosting the uni's sweetness. I was more surprised by how early uni had appeared in the meal, as this usually comes as one of the crowning items towards the end of a luxurious experience.

Our next and central course was proudly shown to us before being made into sushi. This was kuruma-ebi 車海老 (Japanese imperial prawn), which seems to be the source of endless fascination for many visitors to Kyubey. You will soon see why, but if you have a particular aversion towards live seafood, it will probably be better to skip the description of this item!

Look at how fresh, translucent and glistening they are!

After de-shelling the prawns live, Mori-san threw them hard on the sushi board repeatedly. Certainly not for the faint-hearted to watch, but the result was a flesh that had truly incredible spring. This was almost too fresh - rigor mortis hadn't set in so in the following video clip you will see the muscles of the prawn still twitching when being served to us!

The prawn had been sprinkled with a touch of sea salt to highlight its freshness and sweetness. Like the earlier squid, that was all the seasoning that was needed (no sauce here too). I have to say, it was the single most divine prawn I'd ever eaten.

Back to earth again with hamaguri はまぐり (clam), lightly poached and marinated in nitsume, then split neatly and horizontally around the adductor muscle. The meat was delightfully juicy, sweet and mildly briny, and an effective palate cleanser before the next oily fish. There was not a single bothersome hint of rubberiness, which is a frequent problem for shellfish under less-than-competent chefs. Hamaguri is relatively rare and the large ones used for sushi are particularly expensive, so if it appears in a restaurant it is a sure sign of standards and authenticity.

The adductor muscle of the hamaguri followed immediately thereafter. This part of a shellfish is not usually eaten as it is even tougher and more sinewy, but again, these morsels were surprisingly tender and tasty.

We weren't expecting the next one too - deep-fried prawn head and tail from the previous kuruma-ebi, extremely aromatic and so light and crispy it disintegrated like a prawn cracker in the mouth. Amazingly I didn't feel any icky bits of shell whatsoever.

The other favourite of any good sushi meal finally arrived. This was a lovely cut of ootoro 大トロ (fatty tuna belly), a tad veiny and with the fatty structure very well preserved. If you've had foie gras before you'll probably understand how that felt in the mouth. Due to the precision of the knifework, this ootoro felt infintely more complex and refined than that which we had had earlier this morning; the oily flesh was not only more velvety on the tongue but also more nuanced in texture and flavour - none of it ever felt too much for one mouthful. In hindsight Daiwa's cut of this same fish felt a little too thick, too uniformly and excessively rich (it had been almost 100% fat instead of the clear layering you see below) and too heavily seasoned, though it had been very enjoyable at the time (and I suspect most foreigners, not having been exposed to high-end sushi, would actually prefer this strong in-your-face kind of indulgence to a more balanced refinement as pictured below).

Appropriately after an oily fish, kohada こはだ (gizzard shard) was served. Its distinctive shimmering dotted skin was truly beautiful to behold. Apparently, kohada is the fish with which sushi chefs display their skills, and has been representative of the sushi repertoire since this cuisine rose to popularity in Edo (modern-day Tokyo) during the 1800s. Connoisseurs appreciate its strong fishy taste due to high levels of fish oil, as compared to other more subtle/sweet white fishes. Kohada is usually prepared first by salting, then soaking in vinegar in order to temper its intense odour and allow its true taste to emerge. This curing process also has its historical roots in pre-refrigeration days, as small oily fish tend to turn rancid very quickly and must be preserved properly if eaten uncooked.

It was my first time with this fish, and I thought that its light firm texture and sharp vinegared taste was an excellent palate cleanser, especially effective following a very rich slice of ootoro. This was very different from oily red fishes, as the latter tend to have a creamier warmer taste and 'rounded' mouthfeel. I could imagine why kohada's intense fishiness might be an acquired taste for some, and why the chef chose to serve this towards the end of the meal.

A similar oily white fish, the more well-known saba さば (marinated mackerel) followed, seasoned with chives and oroshi (grated radish). This was slightly tenderer in texture and gentler in flavour than the preceding kohada, and the chives and oroshi rounded off each bite with a very pleasant aroma and crispness.

After two clean-tasting and rather fishy pieces of sushi it was time to get back on more solid and familiar ground. We had two pieces of anago 穴子 (conger eel) each; the left piece was seasoned with a dash of yuzu juice and the right sprinkled with sea salt. It is extremely easy to like good anago, with its creamy melt-in-the mouth texture, sweet taste (reinforced by nitsume sauce) and delicate charred edge from grilling. Not a hint of fishiness nor astringency. These two pieces had additional help from yuzu, which made the anago more well-balanced and aromatic, and sea salt, which deepened the anago's flavour even further. I could understand why the chef chose this fish to be essentially the last real item of this meal; its pièce de résistance status was truly well-deserved.

After the anago, a couple of 'filler' items were served to complete this meal. First up was grouper miso soup, very tasty and filled generously with pieces of fish with a nice firm flesh, though with their numerous tiny bones it felt somewhat like a chore getting through the whole bowl.

Following this was the usual hosomaki 細巻き (thin maki) with negitoro ネギトロ (minced tuna with chives), ninjin 人参 (carrot), kyuuri キュウリ (pickled cucumber) and kanpyou 干瓢 (dried pickled gourd). Tamagoyaki 玉子焼 (sweet Japanese layered omelette) on sushi rice, with sweet pickled daikon ended this luxurious experience. The pickled daikon was particularly memorable for its juiciness.

With Mori-san after the meal - bit threatening with that knife isn't it! ;)

On the whole, this had been a well paced meal, and we could savour each piece to its fullest in a comfortable and welcoming atmosphere. The only bone I'd have to pick was with the somewhat haphazard order of serving in the first half of the meal; there was no clear progression of courses, for example, from light-tasting/less oily fishes to stronger-tasting/fatty ones, as one might have expected of a restaurant of this level. Specifically, I felt that certain rich items (chutoro, buri, uni) came too early, and immediately before very lean cuts, which could have compromised the enjoyment of the latter, if not for their equally high quality and appropriate amount of seasoning.

All things considered though, this was still the best sushi I'd tasted up to this point in my life, and I'd certainly recommend Kyubey for an initial insight into the world of fine sushi-making.