Shortly after my first trip to Japan I had the opportunity to go out with a group of people to a local Japanese restaurant where I live. Among the sushi, tempura and other things on the menu, there was teppanyaki. I'd enjoyed my teppanyaki experience on my birthday in Japan, so I sat with interest and watched the chef at his spot. Over the course of the meal, I watched him work serving a group of other people, and as I did something about it irked me. Everything was a show, from strobe lights to sparking knives, to when he threw a bit of alcohol on the hot surface to send a flare of heat up. His customers let out "ooooooohs" and "aaaahs" and everyone clapped, but as I watched it felt like watching a mockery.
I recalled how subdued the chefs in Japan were, the quality of the flavor, the precise movements. It was all form and function, not fantasy. I realized then, as I do now, that we in the United States do not do Teppanyaki. For that matter, we don't do sushi either. Go to Japan, you'll see it in its purest form, fish and vinegared rice. Here we like to slather it with mayonaise, spicy sauces, and weird "organic" additives. You don't need organic in Japan, it came from the sea that morning.
I've been incredibly fortunate to taste such things, to have the opportunity, so when I had another chance, I didn't need much an excuse. My parent's anniversary fell during our trip, and I organized a reservation at the Teppanyaki Restaurant at the Hotel New Otani. Initially I wanted to go to their rotating restaurant with a view of the city, but when I saw the more subdued, intimate quarters of "Seikishin-tei" I knew we had to go.
Seikishin-tei is an unassuming set of little houses set against a beautiful interior garden that serves as a centerpiece of the Hotel New Otani, a magnificent hotel to begin with. Arriving there, you are shown to a smaller room off to the side to put your coat, and then taken to the main restaurant. The space is not very big, a maximum capacity of maybe 12 people with a chef for every 3. Our chef (I forget his name) nodded to us with a polite bow and asked us in English what we would like from the menu.
We put ourselves in his hands, and what followed was yet another unbelievable food experience.
He started by placing wagyu beaf on a little rack over the flatop. If you've never seen or had wagyu, imagine looking at a piece of marble, with intricate lines interwoven into the stratum. Now picture its edible, so tender you can cut it with chopsticks and all you need to flavor it is a little salt and pepper from the chef. Put it in your mouth, it melts, dissolves and washes over the tastebuds in an orchestra of all the delightful tastes you ascribe to meat. This is wagyu beef, the prince of carnivorous delights.
First up on the course was a kind of sashimi sliced so thin it was translucent, an "amuse busche" if you will. Next was monkfish. Onto the hot plate it went, a satisfying sizzle with a little hot oil. He seared the fish, his hands always on the move, shifting, adjusting the food as if it were a precious piece in an art museum.
Dad and I had the monkfish, mom ordered some shrimp, and this came fresh, butterfly cut and positioned tail back towards us, and head bowed in humility to its culinary master across from us.
The result was a lightly fried fish served with a pinch of red himalayan salt and two dipping sauces. The fish alone was delicious, moist and well seasoned. The sauces added a compliment to the flavor without overwhelming it.
All the while the gentleman is cooking for us, he is explaining the dishes, asking us about where we are from and why we've come to Japan. He's a real professional, ever on the move. Up next he serves us a "palate cleanser." Looking at it you would be mistaken as I am that its some kind of aloe or cactus in a little bit of honey. I am not exactly sure what it was, but its a succulent and eating it was like eating water. There's no taste, just a wash of liquid over your tongue.
By now the veggies that he's been cooking on the flat top are done. He's had them sliced to finely thin sheets, and he's been working on the garlic chips so thin that they're translucent. The smell is rich and of course he serves it with three dipping sauces that we can also use for the main course that is coming up.
The taste is something I cannot express. Anthony Bourdain has the term "Food Porn" and this fits the description. You bite into mouth watering flavors that you just want to last forever yet they are gone in an instant.
Last but not least is the fried rice, three eggs folded into rice. He's asked us what kind of rice we wanted and we chose another but he certainly knows better and suggests this so we go with that. We're so full by this point though that we barely have room, but we eat it all anyways.
As is customary in Japan, no meal is finished without a bowl of rice.
The whole meal is over in an hours time, and the chef is busy watching us eat, cleaning his workspace off as efficiently as he cooked. There's no rush. We eat as we're full, and there's still dessert. Its a simple sorbet, peach, with some fruit. Its light and airy and somehow I find room for the proverbial dinner mint that should send me bursting. We sit and relax, contemplating our meal over coffee.
I explain all this to compare with what I saw and experienced with Teppanyaki in the United States. While I have no doubt the food is of utmost quality, it is all show, all flair and fantasy. This was hard work, a skilled chef doing what he did. He didnt need strobes or sparkles to make the meal good. It was good because of him. I took the opportunity to make videos of each thing he did, a good thing I think. We can look back and observe this meal forever. And you all, my wonderful readers can watch and salivate. Enjoy.
Preparing the Meat
Cutting the Meat
Fried Rice
With a full stomach, we waddled back to the subways and took the train back to our hotel, satisfied. Not a cheap meal by any stretch, but for an anniversary, it certainly was a treat. Tommorow, we had a new opportunity for delicious foods. Rain was promised, and I had Department Stores on the mind. See you then.
Next time: Ginza Gluttony
