Delights of Kanto (9): Sushi dinner at Harutaka (青空), Tokyo

We didn't make it to Jiro's restaurant (the subject of the famous foodie documentary 'Jiro Dreams of Sushi'), but this evening we got close enough, at the restaurant of one of his best former disciples Takahashi Harutaka, who had worked at Sukiyabashi Jiro for 12 years. Surprisingly, Harutaka is much more highly regarded by Japanese foodies than Jiro's restaurant, if its Tabelog ranking is anything to go by (3rd place for sushi in Tokyo at the time of writing). It has also been promoted from one to two stars just a month ago, for Tokyo's Michelin Guide 2015. Furthermore, due to Harutaka's late enough opening hours, it has become the favourite supper venue of famous fellow chefs such as Seiji Yamamoto of Ryugin and Masahiro Yoshitake of Sushi Yoshitake, both 3-starred restaurants. With such endorsements, I knew I had to go when I came across this restaurant, researching top sushi places in Tokyo.

I should state at the beginning that reservations at top sushi restaurants in Tokyo are notoriously difficult. As a foreigner (even if you're living in Japan and speak fluent Japanese), you have to book through an existing Japanese customer or a hotel concierge service, and provide credit card details. Restaurateurs often claim that this is because too many foreigners book and then don't show up, something that the Japanese would never do, although I very much doubt the validity of this reason. After all, if one has taken the trouble to travel to the city and make the reservation at a top restaurant, it must hold a certain significance for him and he must want to be there. I myself have never had problems booking top restaurants in other Japanese cities, and Tokyo establishments seem almost unwelcoming by comparison. For this reservation, I had gone through an online concierge service Voyagin for a small administrative fee. (Sukiyabashi Jiro wouldn't even accept this; I was told by staff at Voyagin that they only acknowledge concierges from 5-star hotels.)

Harutaka's location, as with many high-end restaurants in Tokyo, is extremely obscure, on the 3rd floor of a nondescript Kawabata Building in the Ginza area - we spent a good half hour circling the area's narrow streets trying to figure out where it really was! Even staff of nearby restaurants we approached along the way didn't know the building. Finally, running about 10 minutes late for the 7.30 pm reservation, and already with a sore neck from looking up the sides of buildings, I spotted the discreet illuminated sign in kanji for the restaurant. What a relief.

The building is really narrow and the restaurant on the third floor is really just a hole-in-the-wall; the corridor was barely wide enough for me to pass through!

Fortunately, once past the noren, the environment got much less claustrophobic. This exclusive restaurant seats only about 10 at any time, but individual spaces are pretty ample and the atmosphere is cosy enough, though rather more formal than at Kyubey yesterday evening. The dinner service was already in full swing when we arrived. We were the only foreigners this evening. Our presence was promptly and politely acknowledged by Harutaka-san and his sous chef at the counter, and with typical no-nonsense Japanese efficiency the feast began once we were sat at our places and green tea was served.

There must have been some inconsiderate smokers outside the restaurant (as the building is shared with other offices) due to an unmistakable stench around where we were sitting, but I was assured by Harutaka-san that his entire establishment is non-smoking. He sent someone out to check after I expressed my concerns, and thankfully the stench dissipated soon enough and didn't return to ruin the rest of the evening. High-end sushi can be extremely subtle and complex in flavour, and diners are even requested not to wear strong perfumes and colognes, so cigarette smoke would have been utterly destructive. I mean, this isn't exactly a cheap salaryman's izakaya.

Harutaka-san only opens for dinner, and only two omakase options are available. We went for the sushi omakase at 20,000 yen. There is a more expensive option with sashimi and o-tsumami (side dishes) at 30,000 yen, but I had read numerous reviews about the latter not being particularly impressive, so I decided to stick to what Harutaka-san does best, as one of Jiro's top protégés.

By the way, I have seen several online reviews where customers complained that they were left out of dishes such as abalone, fugu, octopus, an uni platter etc. - they were probably unaware of this but to be fair to Harutaka-san, he will ask you at the beginning which omakase option you want, and if you specify the cheaper option, or don't understand him, you will get the 'basic' omakase as reviewed below. Yes, local/regular customers may get one or two extras (and why not?) but I believe that the treatment of all customers here is generally fair, regardless of nationality or frequency of visits. The frills do come at a significantly higher price, so please don't suffer from unnecessary food envy watching your fellow diners.

The sushi rice here was a little warmer than I was expecting (in fact the warmest of the three sushi restaurants I'd been to), and the fishes were served at a comfortable room temperature, which allowed their flavours to emerge most effectively. Sushi overseas is often served stone-cold in the name of freshness, but through all these experiences in Tokyo I already know that's not the way to go. Seasonings for both the rice and fishes were just right. Also, from the start, there was an impeccable precision to the form and size of each piece of sushi. The fish always enveloped the solidly-packed rice ball underneath perfectly, and every piece fitted comfortably in one mouthful. The fish was always at the right thickness for optimum texture and taste, and the proportion of fish to rice expertly grasped. I was extremely impressed by this constant attention to detail, at an even higher level than at Kyubey. One could even say that each picture-perfect nigiri presented before us was a work of art in its own right.

We started with hirame 平目 (flounder). Its lean and firm flesh with a delicate sweet taste made for a very pleasant beginning to this gastronomic journey.

Next was ika イカ (squid). Its beautifully translucent flesh was cut to just the right thickness so that I was still able to see the rice grains beneath its glistening surface. Because the squid wasn't too thick, it was also extremely easy to work through - no additional fine slits into the flesh needed as is usually the case, and not a hint of unwelcome chewiness at any point. Instead, it was very tender, with a lovely mild sweetness and slightly viscous/creamy mouthfeel. If you're not a fan of squid, this might convert you.

All this while I had been watching Harutaka-san's assistant constantly and deftly making slits into a particular fish for fellow diners, and this was to be our next course. As a pianist, I would certainly have thought twice about putting that sharp knife so close to my fingers and making quick narrow slits like these! Such preparation takes real skills and years of experience.

The result of this expert knifework was an incredibly beautiful piece of sayori さより (halfbeak). This fish was a first for both of us. It is caught off the shores of Japan’s Mie, Ishikawa, Hyogo and Hiroshima prefectures. Prized by the Japanese, it is expensive and usually served in finer restaurants. Visually speaking, this was probably my favourite item of tonight's dinner. The clear translucent flesh somewhat reminiscent of fugu (puffer fish) was slightly more thicky filleted than the previous two items, and had shimmering bits of skin left on (similar to kohada, which would come later). Numerous shallow slits made at equally small intervals were a true test of the chef's skills, as sayori is a very small fish, so if the knife goes just slightly deeper the flesh falls apart. These slits weren't just for aesthetic purposes, of course; they contributed a delightful layered mouthfeel and allowed the nikiri glazing to permeate through and season the flesh more thoroughly. The flesh itself was delicate, clean-tasting and firm, as one would expect from a thin, muscled fish, with only a slight hint of fishiness from natural oils.

The meal started to intensify quickly, and next was a piece of akami 赤身 (lean bluefin tuna), lean and succulent in texture, and full-bodied and complex in taste, as you might be able to imagine from its vivid red colour.

These tantalising cuts of tuna lay direct before me on the counter, and I could hardly wait for them to be served.

It was truly captivating to watch Harutaka-san make his nigiri with such effortless precision and finesse. Foodie theatre at its finest.

The preceding short clip showed our chutoro 中トロ (medium tuna belly) being made, and this cut of tuna had a much tenderer texture and warmer fattier flavour due to the greater presence of natural oils.

And now for the best cut of them all: ootoro 大トロ (fatty tuna belly). With its striped and even marbling and slender appearance, this was the most beautiful piece of fatty tuna I'd ever seen. It tasted every bit as good as it looked - utterly melt-in-the-mouth, and the creamy oily goodness delivered an explosive punch to the tastebuds. This absolute richness, coupled with a mildly sweet aftertaste, was unforgettable.

It was time to descend from cloud nine, and aptly we continued with a firmer and leaner, but equally strong-tasting cut of kohada こはだ (gizzard shard). As described in my previous review of Kyubey, this fishy and strongly vinegared item might be an acquired taste for some, but is particularly effective after that luxurious piece of ootoro. The slits in the kohada here were made even deeper and longer than at Kyubey, presumably to allow the curing to take place more efficiently, as well as for aesthetic reasons. I found the kohada here somewhat gentler in taste and less fishy than at Kyubey.

An even more refreshing nigiri followed. This was hamaguri はまぐり (clam), brushed over with a viscous nitsume. Its juicy crunchy texture and mild briny taste with a tinge of sweetness made for an excellent palate cleanser before the next item.

The next course was a most impressive cut of buri ぶり (amberjack). I was a little surprised when Harutaka-san told me it was buri, as it looked very different with its light pink flesh, intense marbling and no signs of red muscle or skin. He didn't elaborate further, but I guessed correctly that this was from the belly, which I've never actually tasted. This dainty-looking cut packed a real punch with its sweet oily flavour and amazingly melt-in-the-mouth texture. I'm not kidding when I say that it could easily have been passed off as a far more expensive slice of ootoro to unsuspecting diners. It was that good!

The indulgence continued with the best ikura イクラ (seasoned salmon roe) gunkan I'd ever eaten in my life. Look at those juicy glistening jewels! I have had it so many times before, occasionally in fine restaurants (overseas), and yet this was still a remarkably enlightening experience. This evening, I learnt that top-quality ikura is served at room temperature (not cold), and that it doesn't 'pop' in the mouth - the fragile membranes simply give way due to the warmth of the mouth, unleashing a wave of briny buttery goodness that envelopes the palate. This was the first time I've had ikura that felt so smooth. My only regret was that it went down my throat way too quickly - I wanted to savour this sensation again and again!

A second palate cleanser followed, this time with another type of clam akagai 赤貝 (ark shell). It is high in hemoglobin, which explains its red color. In fine sushi restaurants, it is typically cut and presented in the form of a butterfly as you see here. Miyagi, Kagawa, and Chiba Prefecture have the largest catch of ark shells in Japan, and the best season for ark shells in Japan is from November to February. The highest quality ark shells are harvested in deep waters free of pollution, full of nutrients and very cold, contributing to the clams' delicate sweet taste. Unlike hamaguri, the best akagai are usually eaten raw with a touch of wasabi, and brushing of nikiri instead of nitsume. This piece of sushi before me had a firm and chewy flesh, whose mildly sweet flavour and briny aroma slowly became more prominent with each bite. This is one shellfish that needs time getting into, and should be enjoyed slowly.

Moving on, we had a much richer piece of saba さば (mackerel). This was probably taken from near its belly, as its distinctive oily taste was still very much evident despite the curing. The meat was very tender and succulent, and coated with a nice layer of fat as you can see from the photo. It was definitely a better cut than at Kyubey last evening.

Our last palate cleanser of the evening came in the form of a kobashira 小柱 gunkan. While Harutaka-san's sous chef explained it to me as 'soft clam', these small pieces are actually the adductor muscles of the aoyagi 青柳 (mactra clam), commonly used in fine restaurants to fill gunkan sushi (of course, a few clams will be needed as each clam has only two pieces of this muscle). This was my first experience with this part of the shellfish and I found it extremely light and with a lovely spring to each bite - one of the most memorable pieces this evening, mainly for its texture, but also for its juicy sweetness. Kobashira is sometimes erroneously called 'baby scallop' because they are very similar in taste and texture. It was certainly very different from the tougher adductor muscles of the hamaguri that we had yesterday evening at Kyubey. It was also a direct contrast to the previous saba, and reset our tastebuds effectively for the richer sweet items to follow.

From this point onwards, the meal built up quickly towards its ending climax. The first step in this process was a stellar piece of shiro-amadai 白甘鯛 (white tilefish), another first for me. Shiro-amadai is considered a luxury in Japan, an exclusive relative of another high-grade but somewhat more common fish tai (amadai literally means 'sweet bream'), and only fine sushi restaurants can afford to serve this rare and expensive fish. The best season for it is winter, when it is at its plumpest. This piece had a very creamy and soft texture, more so than I would expect for most white fishes, but still not quite as melt-in-the-mouth as that amazing piece of buri we had earlier. Its subtle sweetness made for a lovely continuation of the preceding kobashira gunkan.

With the next uni 雲丹 (sea urchin) gunkan we were back on familiar ground, and it was impossible to dislike this full-bodied, sweet and creamy topping from Hokkaido. The visually appealing bright-orange pieces of uni were far plumper than anything I'd ever seen. Truly to die for!

The final piece of nigiri featured a generous slice of anago 穴子 (conger eel) that had an incredible melt-in-the-mouth softness, and a rich fatty flavour with a delightfully sweet aftertaste, no doubt enhanced by the brushing of nitsume.

We were not quite done yet, though; the most unlikely pièce de résistance came as two chunks of tamago-yaki 玉子焼 (layered Japanese omelette) with a touch of prawn stock. This was truly the stuff of gods, so soft and fluffy it felt like butter sponge instead of egg! The evenly caramelised top layer really made it look like a piece of cake too.

The method for making perfect tamago-yaki of course originates from Jiro (fans of the documentary will remember that there was even an apprentice chef who recounted how he had been made to repeat the process 200 times before the old master finally became satisfied with the outcome); it was obvious that Harutaka-san had also taken his mentor's teachings to heart, as this stunning and unique tamago-yaki illustrated; that alone might have been well worth the visit. The tamago-yaki here was definitely not just an afterthought to a sushi omakase, and I don't think I'll ever have anything like it again, unless I get a reservation at Jiro's, or the restaurants of his best protégés.

After this, Harutaka-san informed us that we were at the end of the omakase with one more hosomaki course to go, and we were given the usual options of negitoro, kanpyou etc. We finally chose to have 鉄火巻 tekkamaki (with a filling of sliced akami) as this is rather unusual as well. The dense maki roll, packed tightly with rice and tuna, filled our tummies just nicely.

Harutaka-san then asked if we were full, and whether we would like to repeat any particular items. My partner couldn't eat any more but I went ahead with two more orders of tamago-yaki and uni gunkan (how could I not!). In hindsight, I probably would have repeated the buri, ikura and shiro-amadai as well, if my stomach would allow it.

The next video clip of Harutaka-san's sous chef grating fresh wasabi will show you what the real thing is like - it is hardly the thick green goo that comes out of a tube or is scooped out of a container in all cheaper places. Needless to say, the taste of real wasabi is infinitely better than the cheap fake versions as well.

Harutaka-san at work with a fillet of saba.

Moving on to kanpyou maki...

And making sure it's all packed in firmly, pressing down while rolling up.

Surprisingly, the final bill came to slightly above 41,000 yen for two (no drinks, just complimentary green tea), which was lower than I had expected considering two extra items, and the tax and service charge that fine restaurants usually take. I'm not sure how that worked, since top restaurants in Japan always present the bill as a total amount, not as an itemised list - maybe the extra items were meant to be on the house (?!), or maybe there was no tax and service charge at all?

The meal had been very well-paced, the ambience was remarkably comfortable for such a small and quiet restaurant, and watching Harutaka-san make his nigiri with a machine-like exactitude and speed had been a mesmerising theatrical treat in itself. As we got up to leave, both Harutaka-san and his sous chef bowed and bade us farewell, then went back to their work, almost without missing a beat. We were seen to the door and thanked once again by a member of the service staff. As we exited the tiny building, I couldn't help thinking what a dream the past two and a half hours had been. There may well be better sushi restaurants in Tokyo, but for now I was completely satisfied.

Details for Harutaka (青空)

Address in kanji: 東京都 中央区 銀座 8-5-8 かわばたビル３F

Tel.: +81-3-3573-1144 (reservations compulsory through a concierge)

Business hours: 17:00 – late (last orders Monday-Friday at 23:30; Saturday at 22:30; closed Sunday and public holidays)
Credit cards: all accepted

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.