Uoshin, Shibuya - 魚真、渋谷

The words 'chain izakaya' conjure up images of Watami, Wara-Wara, Gonpachi and the other ubiquitous brands which have glutted the market with their riffs on lowest common denominator washoku fare, using pre-prepared ingredients, assembled and served by indifferent staff, at a customer friendly price point. While the price may be right, these are not the kind of establishments one finds quality produce nor creativity - unless of course you consider those abstract squiggles of mayonnaise that smother the dishes as some attempt at culinary flair.

However, it would be foolish to tar all chain stores with the same brush. Uoshin, for example, is a small chain (9 stores in the Tokyo area) of seafood izakayas which offer consistently good food in a friendly and unpretentious setting. Owned by a major seafood wholesaler that does business out of Tsukiji market, the selection and quality of the fish on offer never disappoints. Reliability, reasonable prices coupled with a pretty decent sake list mean that Uoshin has gotten plenty of repeat custom out of me.

In a basement floor, tucked away from the hurly-burly streets of the Dogenzaka, lies the source of fish: Uoshin Shibuya Honten. The aesthetic can best be described as functional, and the service is friendly but direct - make no mistake about it, the focus here is being fed.

No picture menu here. A densely packed handwritten menu lists the specials of the day, a half page of which is devoted solely to the sashimi and grilled fish options. Don't bother trying to translate it all - just go for the varieties highlighted with a red circle, which signify the market specials.

Naturally, sashimi is the starting point, but if the choosing from the myriad of varieties is too overwhelming then the sashimi moriawase is the best default. The standard omakase plate of 6 varieties starts from ¥1,500 (for 2), but I recommend ponying up the extra ¥900 for the iitoko plate of 7, which uses better cuts of fish.

There is plenty on offer with which to wet one's whistle. Along with the izakaya standards of draft beer, shochu and sours, Uoshin keeps a dozen or so well regarded brands of sake on hand. As the menu is exclusively seafood, I tend to stick to a light, fragrant style of sake so as to not overpower the flavour of the fish. Favourites include: Isojiman honjozo (磯自慢 本醸造), from Shizuoka (left); Dassai 50 jumnai ginjou (獺祭 純米吟醸50), from Yamaguchi (middle); the robust Denshu special brew junmai (田酒特別純米), from Awamori, was the managers recommendation for the male of the group... meh! 

The menu even includes a helpful beginners guide to sake grades to aid the selection process, bless. 

It's worth taking a surreptitious trip to the bathroom in order to check out the sake fridge on route. In past clandestine missions I have spied unlisted bottles of Juyondai and various junmai daiginjou's which I then promptly ordered - much to the bemusement of the manager.

Juyondai's popularity makes it is nye on impossible to buy retail. Its stellar reputation coupled with limited distribution means that what is available goes to directly to izakaya and restaurants. Even then, when you do come across it on a menu, its either 'temporarily' sold out or the basic Honmaru honjozo label. So colour me lucky when I spotted an unopened bottle of the special brewed Yuyondai Honmaru  (十四代「特別本醸造」本丸生詰). It had a light vanilla aroma and soft balanced flavour, without the usual brashness that one expects of a honjozo. Yum.

The perfect drink needs a perfect match, and in my book you can't get much better than ankimo (monkfish liver); that fatty and fishy fois gras of the sea. Granted, Uoshin's is of the processed variety, but as expensive attempts to make it at home have failed dismally, I'm not one to complain. 

If ankimo is not available, mirokyu (cucumber with barley miso) and a bowl of tsukemono are good drinking standbys.

                            

Tofu salad with fried jakko and an onsen tamago (the latter of which was omitted due to my gaijin queasiness of barely cooked egg) is a pleasant way to get your 5+ a day.

Or perhaps grilled ika (squid) with marinated vegetables is more to your liking. It certainly was for us.

Fried octopus with daikon momiji (grated daikon mixed with a mild chili pepper), was one of the daily specials, and paired perfectly with the above mentioned Isojiman.

Uoshin is one of the few places I order agemono (deep-fried food), as there is no risk of the oil being contaminated with the taste of chicken - so often the case in other izakaya. The name of this little creamy shimp and mentaiko nugget of yumminess escapes me, but I do remember someone saying it hailed from Ehime.

Handline caught Kinmedai nitsuke (gold-eye snapper braised in sweet soy sauce), is my idea of comfort food. Perfectly cooked so that the flesh easily feel away from the bone, this dish exemplifies what Uoshin is all about: good, seasonal food, done well. 

Just remember to book.

Uoshin Shibuya Honten
03-3464-3000

Sushi Shin, Kawasaki - 鮨新、川崎

"You need to eat more," admonished my adoptive Japanese mama. I knew where this was comment was heading, so instead of getting defensive I sucked in my cheeks for effect.

"Let's have dinner."

Yes! 

Dinner with mama meant one thing: Sushi Shin.

Situated on a sleepy residential street in Hirama, 10 minutes drive from both Musashi-kosugi and Kawasaki stations - 'location, location, location', this is not. Sushi Shin is so well and truly off the gourmet map that tabelog fails to even register its existence. Not that the owners care. Why would you when your 10 counter seats and upstairs tatami rooms are packed with regulars, friends and family 364 days a year? Their success doesn't come down to a slick business plan, aggressive marketing, or even the food - which I hasten to add is pretty good, but rather to the enduring relationships they have within this tight-knit community. Here, everyone knows everyone else's business, they gossip, laugh and celebrate life's milestones, as well as mourn its sorrows. Sure, its suspicious of newcomers in a "this is a local pub for local people" kinda way, but once you have earned their respect (usually by getting in amongst it and sharing a drink with your neighbours), you are rewarded with warmth and generous service that can rarely be found in the slick sushi-ya of Ginza. 

Cheers, Mama! The interior could be described as homely, that is if your home has a wall mounted TV and fluroscent lighting.

One of the few interior embelleshments is this sumo calendar; a gift from patrons, Kitanoumi, former yokozune (ranked third best until he was usurped by Asashoryu) and Sumo Association Chairman (until he was demoted after his Russian wrestlers were caught with funny-shaped 'cigarettes'), and his lovely wife, Tomoki. It's definitely advisable to brush up on the sumo bansuke rankings before attempting to engage anyone on the subject.

The shop is run by a comic duo; the owner, Sato-san, who plays Hardy to his sous-chef's Laurel. A gregarious pair who prepare dishes and humor guests with warmth and slap-stick humour. They do, however,  take their sushi very seriously, as it is the backbone of the business. Throughout the night trays of sushi were dispatched to the course menu dinners upstairs (set price ¥5000), and huge platters were prepared in laquerware containers and delivered, by the owner on his ramshackle motorbike, to takeout customers. That said, regulars seem to stick to the standard washoku fare available a la carte. A quick peek at the specials menu reveals the kind of oyaji-friendly items on offer: Shirako (cod sperm sacks), dried and grilled shishamo (saltwater smelt) andくじらベコン (I won't translate that in case it causes offense). Mama tells me they also do a good イルカ stew (I definitely won't be translating that one, either). Hmm, maybe not the best dining option for paid-up Sea Shepard members then. 

Our saisho biru came with the standard ootoshi of nira and clams in a sweet white miso sauce. By the time I had captured this little vignette on film mama had already gulped back her beer and called out for her shochu bottle, which is kept stored behind the counter. "You need to drink more!" she barked - a pattern that would continue through out the course of the evening.

A varitable bouquet of sashimi moriawase came presented on a wooden sushi board. From left: kanburi (winter amberjack), ika (squid), Hokkaido winter crab, a fatty and well cured shime saba (mackeral), chu-toro, kamaboko (herring eggs with kombu), tako (octopus) - in front, awabi (abalone) - behind. All of very good quality and extremely generous portions - this was a serving for two people, after all.

Mama left me to finish off the lion's share of the moriawase, and instead focused her attention on a hearty slice of slow roasted pork belly, which even this devout pescatarian had to admit looked and smelled delicious.

Thanks to Mama's concerns about her cholesterol intake, I got to greedily enjoy this gargantuan serving of ankimo ponzu all by myself. Bearing no relation to the processed 'mystery meat' ankimo sausage that it so often dished up at izakaya, this homemade variety fell apart into little nuggets of liver, which were smooth, fatty and delicious - I scoffed the lot. Yum!

While Mama and Papa (who had just joined us having returned from overseeing his pachinko shop interests in Fukushima) stuck to their bottle of mugi shochu, I made head way through the limited selection of sake. There are always 6 standard honjozo on offer: Hakkaisan, Kubota, Kudokijouzu and the other usual suspect brands, but a quiet enquiry to the owner will often result in something a little more interesting making its way across the counter. Tonight, Sato-san 'found' a 300ml bottle of Suijin super dry junmai (水神純米大辛口) from Iwate. Fragrant with a robust rice flavour and, as the name suggests, very dry.

I didn't photograph the くじらベコン and natto handrolls that Papa ordered up from the kitchen; the former was a matter of principle, and the latter was because they were scoffed down too quickly by my surrogate parents. I did get a shot of one of the day's specials; the curiously named ebi-imo, a taro variety that neither looked nor tasted like a shrimp - just starchy and sticky like all of the other imo I have had the misfortune to encounter. 

Mama said the raw young spring onion with miso dripping sauce tasted spicy, and ordered another round. I said it tasted like raw onion with miso, and moved seats. 

I had more success with the baby bamboo which had been liberally coated with homemade mayonnaise before grilling. Finger-licking good.

By now the shop was buzzing with activity and lively banter. The counter was filled with locals who regularly changed seats to chat with friends and ply each other with drinks. But be warned, an evening of such merriment at Sushi Shin has only one possible conclusion: Karaoke. Before I could voice a protest, phone calls were made and within minutes a slick haired, white polyester suit dressed man appeared in the doorway: The enka pro. Holy-moly, these old folks mean business!

After an hour of sing-a-longs, it became apparent that I wasn't going to be allowed to depart without performing a song for the crowd. Dutifully, I massacred my go-to enka standard, appropriately named "Izakaya", and was then allowed to escape into the night. 

So, should you go? Well, I can hardly say that Sushi Shin is a shop you would cross town for, and, as I have never seen nor paid a bill, I can't comment on it's relative cost-performance. But, if you ever find yourself on the sleepy backstreets of Kawasaki I would suggest you pop in, as you'd be hard pressed to find such generous food and service anywhere east of the Tama river. 

Sushi Shin

044-522-3903

Higashiyama, Nakameguro

January 29th, 2011
This birthday I was given a clear directive from friends: no Japanese food, and I can't make the reservation. Harsh! Well, I suppose they did have just cause given that last year I had taken them to an izakaya that, despite having high ranking on tabelog (I was yet to discover the disparity between rankings and reality), was abysmal and resulted in the entire party coming down with food poisoning.
However, after employing a little diplomacy, I was able to wrestle back control with the compromise of a Japanese restaurant in the painfully hip environs of Nakameguro.

Named after the chi-chi neighbourhood it is located in, Higashiyama is patronised by local tarento, the design/fashion clique and a small coterie of foreigners who have no doubt stumbled across praising reviews - that damn 'the New York Times effect'. From the street, there is little in the way of signage to indicate Higashiyama's existence, but once you make your way along the path to the rear of the building, an open courtyard is revealed with a striking water feature bathed in subtle lighting.

Higashiyama is the flagship restaurant of the Simplicity, a design company which promotes its vision of bringing Japanese lifestyle and culture to the global stage through the fields of architecture, interior design, food and food related design products. 

Before being seated, guests are lead to a dimly lit alcove, which is in effect a showcase for the wabi-sabi designs produced by the Simplicity workshops. 

On display are ceramics, tableware, woodwork, metalware, along with a selection elegantly presented Japanese sweets from their wagashi shop, Higashiya... all conveniently available for purchase, of course.

Counter seats overlooking the immaculate kitchen would be my preference, but given the number in our group it was impractical. We were more than happy, however, with seats at the large communal table in the central dining room. There are also smaller tables set along the atrium windows with views over the courtyard for more intimate dining. 

The attention to detail is impressive. The place settings, with thick cotton napkins, metal chopstick holders and hand-crafted ohashi, beautifully complement the food. 

The menu could be best described as contemporary Japanese washoku utilizing the best of seasonal and locally sourced produce. The menu is available a la carte or there is a choice of prix fixe courses which range from ¥3,500, for a 2 course option, to a more elaborate ¥8,000 wagyu course. We stumped for the ¥3,500 course with two of us supplementing our course with sashimi moriawase (for me), and a gobo & nanohana (burdock root and rapeseed greens) salad in a goma & kurumi (sesame and walnut) dressing (for the Greek).

A simple appetiser of homemade tofu and lightly pickled Kyoto vegetables started the meal. The silken tofu was accompanied with Iburi Jio sea salt, from Akita, which is smoked with cherry wood. The wonderful smoky flavour and aroma that this artisanal salt imparted to the dish was a revelation. So good, in fact, that I kept nibbling at it long after the tofu was gone. 

All this talk of food, and I have failed to mention the drinks menu, which is comprised of a good selection of sake, shouchu, as well as French & New World wines from some fairly reputable vineyards. I was tempted by rieslings from Serensin Estate (New Zealand) and Hugel (Alsace), but bubbles were the order of the day, so we selected a pleasant semi-seco Cava instead.

Confusion reigned, however, when two large platters of sashimi arrived along with a large ceramic bowl of the gobo and nanohana salad. Impressed with the generous portions, we greedily dived into the food before the realisation slowly dawned on us that our waiter had ordered each dish for the whole table. An expensive mistake which took our economical course option to well over ¥6,500 per person. 

An entree of Hokkaido snow crab, kazunoko (dried herring roe), micro greens and yuzu salad arrived in an impressive urushi (lacquerware) bowl. The contrasting flavours and textures of the soft, sweet crab meat, the spongy, crunchy kazunoko, and the crisp zesty vegetables made for a bit of a party in my mouth, and brought smiles to the all the faces at the table.

The main course of Iwate roast pork with quince sauce and wilted greens was deemed moist and delicious by all assembled.

All except me, of course. Due to my non-meat eating ways, the kitchen kindly allowed me to order a main from the a la carte list. My teriyaki glazed buri (yellowtail) steak was served with its traditional accompaniment of grated daikon, and some grilled sweet potato - yum! The glaze was sweet and smoky, and the fish was grilled to what seems to be the standard Japanese level of 'done': cooked all the way through, though I personally prefer my fish cooked a little under. I also thought the dish lacked some acidity, and was screaming out for a big wedge of lemon; a small quibble easily remedied once the required citrus was procured from the kitchen. Again, the presentation was spot on, and I seriously contemplated smuggling the gold leaf urushi plate home in my bag.

A covertly orchestrated platter of matcha and vanilla panacotta was the surprise finale to the meal. Decadently rich, without being cloying and mellowed out with a warm bowl of houjicha, it was the perfect note to finish on. Note the candle holder is a big chunk of mizujokan... God is in the details.

Overall, a pleasant meal was had by all, though our experience was slightly soured when then bill arrived; with drinks, the total came to around ¥9,000 per person. Therefore the waiter's ordering snafu had added an extra ¥3,000 to each person's meal. As it was a special day my companions, bless them, preferred to pay up rather than make a fuss, which was incredibly generous and gracious of them. Definitely a lesson learned.

No good night out is complete without a 二次会 (after party), so the more robust drinkers in our group (the Greek and I), carried on the festivities in the lower level Higashiyama Lounge. Accessed by diners from the restaurant or via a discrete street entrance, the lounge bar is a destination in itself. The interior is a continuation of the industrial minimalist design of the main building, with the noir-ish lighting, luxe seating and jazz/soul BGM creating a sense greater intimacy. Supping Ron Zacapa 20 year Guatemalan rum in this environment one could easily forget the passage of time. And indeed we did. So if points were based on the hour one stumbles out the door, Higashiyama would be awarded an impressive 5 and a half stars (hick!)... minus 2 for the dent to the wallet.

Higashiyama

03-5720-1300

Julep, Ikejiri Ohashi - ジュレップ、池尻お橋

Rum, rhum, ron, what ever you want to call it, is a drink that has bewitched me and become something of an obsession. I, or course, am not the first to succumb to the pleasures of this potent brew; it was the preferred tipple of pirate and admiralty captains alike; kept the navy in 'good spirits'; fueled Hemingway's bacchanalian adventures; and perhaps even soothed the conscience of Richard Nixon, who drank it with coke. There is, however, a flip-side to all of this inebriety, as man's thirst for rum was directly responsible for driving the slave trade of the sugar plantations, and worse still, for the production of cheap, factory made swill that was disguised in Malibu laced, smuttily named cocktails and frozen concoctions. It may be churlish to say, but for me, this nefarious history seems to only add to its mystic.

My conversion to the joys of rumbustion began in a bar named, bizarrely, after a bourbon drink - Julep.  Just a short stagger from Owan, Julep is the go-to place for rum afficiandos - stocking over 300 varieties from around the globe. It's an intimate space, six counter seats and a couple of tables areas for groups of four, with moody lighting, jazzy beats and a chilled out vibe that appeals to the area's sophisticated demographic. 

Sidling up to the small bar, you will be greeted on most nights by the informed Yamamoto-san, or if you are lucky, by the owner, Sato-san. In either case you are in good hands because these chaps know their rum and revel in an opportunity to convert new devotees. Sato-san is a Ron Zacapa Ambassador, as well as a founder of R.U.M. JAPAN, an organisation whose aim is for "the recognition, propagation and rooting of rum in Japan." In these dual roles he travels the globe to immerse himself in the culture of the areas where rum is produced, meet local producers and sample as much of the amber nectar as humanly possible. Nice work if you can get it, eh?

Presented with a thick leather bound volume, which constitutes as the drinks menu, its easy to become overwhelmed with the varieties on offer: Cuba, Trinidad, Haiti, Venezuela, even India and Madagascar are represented. Sensing our bewilderment, Sato-san came to the rescue, "How about starting out with a cocktail?" Okay, lets!

We began with a Havana mojito, which was made with hefty handfuls of fresh mint, and a canchanchara, made with a generous dollop of golden honey and freshly squeezed lime. Both were sensational - a great entree to the proceedings.

With one round under our belts and a bit of Dutch courage, we tackled the rum menu. I ordered the Nicaraguan Zapatera Reserva Vintage 1996, which was dark and full bodied with flavors reminiscent of vanilla, toffee, oak and cocoa.

The Athenian requested the driest rum they had, which turned out to be the Rhum J.M. Rhum Vieux Millésimé 1997 (10 Years Old), from Martinique. In contrast to the Zapatera this rum has a much lighter amber hue, with rich herbal/spicy notes and a long clean finish. A great sipping rum to take your time over.

For the next round I went with the 23 year old Ron Zacapa, from Guatemala, that I had enjoyed on a previous visit. I was not disappointed. For me this is the epitome of a great rum; deep mahogany in colour, rich and complex flavour of butterscotch, spicy oak and raisined fruit, with a warming aroma of vanilla and roasted nuts. Yum, yum! I feel a sea shanty coming on.

The Athenian ventured to the continent of Africa for her next tipple, a ten year old Vieux Rhum Dzama, from Madagascar. This fragrant aged golden rum had the flavour of caramalised fruit accented with slightly nutty notes and a hint of, err...banana? Well, that's what my increasingly illegible notes say.

We sailed back in to the Caribbean (by way of Europe) for our next round; Rum Nation's Barbados 1995. Rum Nation, the rum division of Italian whisky bottler Wilson & Morgan, started procuring rum in 1999, and specialises in single estate Latino style rums. The Barbados 1995 is characteristic of this Latino style; very sweet and honeyed on the palate, with hints of crushed mint and molasses. 

By now we were well and truly adrift on the sea of insobriety with Sato-san, who shall be referred to forever more as Captain Enabler, as our obliging navigator. I was foolhardy enough to ask, "What's the strongest rum you have?" Without missing a beat Captain Enabler produced a bottle of Forres Park Puncheon Rum, from Trinidad and Tobago. "Puncheon," he told me, is used to describe a high proof rum - 150% proof, in this case. Despite the obvious warning signs, I ordered a glass. The fumes that emanated from the glass were so strong that I had to make sure all naked flames were snuffed out before I even contemplated putting it anywhere near my face. The first sip was like punch in the mouth and completely took my breath away. Yikes! Gingerly, I tried again, and once I was past the intense wall of fumes I noticed that when the alcohol evaporated - on contact with my mouth - it left behind the flavour of fresh, clean cane sugar. A revelation!  For anyone who is foolhardy enough to take up the Puncheon challenge, the company's website suggests you "Pour it over crushed ice to improve the aroma, then sip slowly to improve your outlook on life." I, on the other hand, would recommend the Sign of the Cross, a round of Hail Marys and a fire extinguisher at the ready - just in case it all goes pear-shaped. You have been warned.

Someone - yes it was me - went off script with the next order: frozen mint mojito. A blasphemy, I know, but it was actually quite delicious. It looks a bit like an alcoholic kakigori, don't you think?

In need of some respite after all this good grog, we ordered up a selection of nibbles from the limited list of snack options on offer: Smoked cheese, dried fruit and white asparagus pickles. Julep also stocks a comprehensive selection of Cuban and Dominican cigars if you so feel inclined. 

While we didn't drink it, the Saint-Etienne had the Athenian and I reminiscing about our favourite 90's house group of the same name, and the halcyon 'daze' of our misspent youth. Ahh, wishful tales of younger, more nubile days are always the beginning of the end.

While the Athenian went back to her preferred dry style of Martinique, I indulged by sweet tooth with a Havanese Areoha Elixir de Ron. This rich and decadently sweet drop is more like a rum liqueur than a rum. It is dark, viscous and is almost like honey in texture - check out the legs on the side of the glass - with warming notes of oak, nutmeg and spice.

Last drinks had been called two rounds ago, and Captain Enabler now became Captain I-regret-to-inform-you-it-is-3:30am by presenting us with a pirate's random of a bill. Time to jump ship.

Back on the street we had warm hearts and lungs full of song, and despite listing dangerously, were keen to splice up the mainbrace one more time.

"Fancy an after drink drink?" 

"Aye-aye!"

I guess that's why it's called the Demon Water. Hic!

Bar Julep

03-3422-7650