It’s been a few years since I’ve said anything of substance on Sushi House Hayakawa, and that needs to change, even if my feelings towards this delightful Atlanta sushi bar have not. Stashed away on the BuHi corridor of Doraville, I half feel like a damn investor. Mind you, this isn’t due to some compromising relationship with owner Atsushi Hayakawa (call him Art or Haya-san). Rather, it’s just that I’ve pumped more than a g-string’s worth of the green stuff into Haya-san’s pockets by way of an onslaught of visits in the near four year run for the restaurant.
During the unfortunate periods when my visits come at a snail’s pace, I find my impression of the restaurant seems to cool and I begin to question its place amongst the handful of better than average sushi bars around the city. I leave realizing how fucking insane and seriously bat shit crazy those doubts are. Each new visit washes away that pish posh and reinvigorates my warmth for the jovial little Japanese restaurant.
My last meal in Los Angeles was a lunch at Matsuhisa in Beverly Hills. Before I headed north to the bay of San Francisco, I wanted to sneak into this widely regarded sushi bar, the first jewel in the crown of famed sushimonger Nobu Matsuhisa. Nobuyuki-san, perhaps the first celebrity sushi chef, has an empire that stretches several continents and a multitude of restaurants. But it was this little spot on the edge of Beverly Hills where he first rose to worldwide acclaim.
Nowadays, Nobu-san no longer ambles behind the bar at Matsuhisa, instead leaving these day-to-day activities to people like chef Yoshi, a congenial and talented man who hails from Hiroshima’s countryside. With a lofty reputation, I am sad to say that my single meal at Matsuhisa, while completely pleasant, did not quite qualify amongst the best I’ve indulged in of this Japanese art form.
It’s a safe bet that next time you sit down to a sushi dinner, tuna consumption will be imminent. Soon you will have to navigate words and phrases like toro, chu-toro, o-toro, maguro, akami, and more. On top of that, if you happen to find yourself in an upscale sushi restaurant, words like shiromaguro, honmaguro, kuromaguro, and more might find their way into your discussion.
Truth be told, despite tuna’s prevalence in the world of sushi, it seems “toro” is one of the most perplexing and nuanced items to ever hit the geta. [The geta is in fact the small wooden tray that sushi is served on top of.] Though there are other fish that this happens with, tuna is one of the rare sushi items where your order is determined not only by the type of tuna you are consuming, but where on the fish that piece of meat actually comes from. Beyond that, there are serious discussions going on regarding the sustainability of various tuna species, so let’s break it all down and make things nice and simple for you.
I’ve said it before: Taka-san runs an awesome blog! He’s funny, straight up honest, and also a master of dropping knowledge. Yesterday, he ran an educational post on tekka-don, natto and a few other healthy Japanese classics (that’s his picture above).
He provides us with a brief history of natto (a fermented Japanese soybean), a visceral explanation, and a detailed break down of all the vitamins, basic nutritional benefits, minerals, and so forth. I must admit though, I think a good bit of the content was copied straight from the label! I love Taka’s broken English and much of it was notably well-written. Thankfully, chief sushi educator that he is, Taka dropped a distinctly classic note at the very end:
Nagaimo, I call Japanese Viagra. This is naturall, no side effect. Yu can cut it dices or grate. I use this for our okonomiyaki.
The aforementioned typos are simply just the result of Taka’s writing. Dude’s English is way better than anything I can ever hope for with my Japanese. Most importantly, Taka’s food and personality make his eponymous restaurant a win-win.
Like every other Atlanta foodie, a short while back I dropped in the food Mecca that is New York. It was an ungodly trip of lusty, slutty, completely inappropriate foodie indulgence and I’m just now getting my thoughts organized and my photos online. I’ve long talked of my man love for Sotohiro Kosugi. The guyartist super hero is now up to two Michelin Stars. I think eating at Soto every time you (or me for that matter) hit NYC would be a good thing. For space’s sake, I was not able to include all the pictures; however, you can find the full Soto New York picture set on Flickr. Without further adieu, Soto Sushi in in pictures #Amazing #BeJealous #LetsGetItOn
While the James Beard Award may carry more notability around these parts, the Michelin Guide is in fact the real deal. Early this morning, the famed guidebook (and tire manufacturer), released their ratings for 2011. Of particular note to us in the Dirty, Sotohiro Kosugi garnered a second star for his well regarded New York Citysushi bar. This is an astounding accomplishment, and with restaurants like Wylie Dufresne’s wd~50 sitting below Soto, you can tell this is an impressive heap to climb. While Bibendum is all smiles today, this serves as another twist to the gut for those of us her in Atlanta! If you’re curious to see the whole list, you can see it here!
Patrons of all sorts debate the value of a meal at MF Buckhead, Atlanta’s most shi-shi sushi spot. Together with MF Sushi Bar and MF Omakase Room, Chris Kinjo’s restaurants are the easiest way to have sushi burn a hole in your pocket. Though indulgent excess is on the decline, and Atlanta’s high-end dining scene is so thin that even Quinones is a once a week affair, elegant expense still has its place in our city.
For the past year and change, Kinjo has been utilizing his hidden room at the Buckhead outpost to serve some of the best sushi this city has seen in many a year. Up a single flight of stairs, tucked away in a serenely styled room is a Japanese speakeasy that should be on everyone’s list for special occasions. Believe you me, the MF Omakase Room is as good as it gets.
Mark August 21st on your calendars ladies and gents. In a joint event with the Japan American Society of Atlanta (website), Taka Moriuchi, the knife slinging leader of Taka Sushi in Buckhead, is hosting a cooking class. It starts at 11 am and lasts until 2pm. For reservations, you need to email axistaka@msn.com. At only $30/head, this is a steal. Not only do you get to learn, but you also get LUNCH!!! Dishes on the schedule include soba and udon soup, okonomiyaki (Japanese pancakes), and gyoza (dumplings).
Intown Atlanta has no shortage of burger joints and pizzerias. Consequently, it seems that this reality costs us the opportunity to enjoy true ethnic food, as framed by our natural ethnocentrism, without having to haul booty up Buford Highway. Enter Wasabi Grill, a new Japanese/Korean smörgåsbord in the Home Park section of The Westside. While it may not be the most authentic endeavor, Wasabi Grill, like Miso Izakaya and Hankook Taqueria, is an attempt to give urban Atlanta an alternative to the Americanized sushi bars and assimilated Chinese restaurants that most of us think about when the words “Eastern cuisine” are used.
Having replaced Mosaic Halal Café, you’ll find Wasabi Grill on 14th street just across from Jimmy John’s. Open just about a week and change, I strolled by a week ago yesterday for a little “Linner.” While there isn’t anything about the place that makes me think we’re about to witness a renaissance, it did okay given the circumstances.
As I hobble through life with a Droid as my sole camera, it’s time for another one of my first impressions that really isn’t a first impression. Falafel King sits on the Emory campus just off the junction of Oxford and N. Decatur. Though it’s purveyors are of Korean lineage, this shack sized, spit using restaurant actually sells the oddly married cuisines of Japan (in this case sushi) and the Mediterranean. This odd mish mash of grub, combined with a distinct facade (displayed at right by babythekitten) and pocket book friendly prices, helps to draw customers from areas well beyond Emory.
In many circles, the King is treated as royalty. The reality is closer to something more understated; however, for a place that freshly pats down their chickpea mixture, they do just fine.
