"Some brains to go with your sperm sac, sir?"
E-Dawg and I went to Tama Sushi on Studio City's sushi row (or should I say "roe") last night. We each opted for the $30 B-plan omakase. We split a large Sapporo and a large sake. Katzu-san immediately went to work, delivering to us a fresh squid salad, consisting of the squid itself, wakame, and cucumbers, with a couple of sauces drizzled over the whole shebang-- one based on soy sauce , the other based on the unidentifiably fragrant Japanese citrus fruit, yuzu. The squid was the texture of al dente pappardelle, very much unlike the tire-rubber chewiness of the squids you find at lesser places, and very delicious.
Then came the platter of assorted bite-sized bits of palate-titillating appetizers: steamed okra with some kind of sauce on it, sardine on a slice of tomato and topped with minced ginger, a tiny deep-fried crab to be eaten whole and unaccompanied by sauce, a deep-fried scallop, and something in the middle of the platter that looked like the intestinal tract of a small bird. I asked Katzu what this might be, to which he responded in his heavily accented English, "Mayo egg." "What kind of fish?" "Mayo egg." "Male egg?" "Yes. Mayo egg. What you call?" "Sperm?" "Yes. Fugu. Very good." So it was with this bit of unexpected and exciting news that E-Dawg and I had our first-ever tastes of the sperm sac of the blowfish. I'd had fugu liver before (the poisonous part), at the ludicrously expensive and exceedingly delicious Ginza Sushi-ko, but never the sperm sac. It proved to be no let down.
As part of the B-plan omakase that Katzu offers, you are next delivered dashi in a teapot-- a seafood dashi rich in shrimp, shitake mushrooms, and some kind of whitefish. You sqeeze a lime into the broth, pour yourself a cup, and drink the divine goodness that results when bonito flakes and konbu are brought together in just the right combination and for just the right amount of time.
And then on to the sushi. First were two large cuts of toro-- this was big eye, not blue fin, but it was still terrifically fatty-- one from below the fin, and the other from the stomach itself. Next were two hefty cuts apiece of hamachi and kampachi-- both brilliant, but the hamachi was particularly fantastic. I think it was then that we saw Katzu go to work on a live scallop. After he had shelled the creature and cut it into thirds, he held the pieces over the counter to show us that it was indeed still alive. I was about to eat right out of his hands, but at that moment, he brought them back over the counter, put them on their beds of rice, and seasoned them with lime and sea salt. Then he served us halibut and the saba that caused E-Dawg, once having eaten it, to writhe around in a fugue of semiconscious, semi-orgasmic, semi-breathing euphoria, uttering something along the lines of, "That was the single best thing that has ever been in my mouth... It lingers... It's long... I want to fuck Katzu." And then came the finale: uni with shiso; and dungeness crab atop its own brain. And then it was over.
Or, not quite over. At some point towards the end of the meal, the two of us aswirl in a cocktail of sake and omega 3 fatty acids, E-Dawg endeavored to lecture the Spanish woman sitting to our left about Franco, fascism, and, if I remember correctly, fisting. Oh, but it's all a blur...
The check, with tip, was $110. This is not a cheap meal for two, but I would nonetheless rank it pound-for-pound as one of the best deals in town in terms of getting what you pay for. I know of no other super-high-quality sushi joint that lets you off so easy. A truly delicious, utterly transformative meal. I want to fuck Katzu.
Then came the platter of assorted bite-sized bits of palate-titillating appetizers: steamed okra with some kind of sauce on it, sardine on a slice of tomato and topped with minced ginger, a tiny deep-fried crab to be eaten whole and unaccompanied by sauce, a deep-fried scallop, and something in the middle of the platter that looked like the intestinal tract of a small bird. I asked Katzu what this might be, to which he responded in his heavily accented English, "Mayo egg." "What kind of fish?" "Mayo egg." "Male egg?" "Yes. Mayo egg. What you call?" "Sperm?" "Yes. Fugu. Very good." So it was with this bit of unexpected and exciting news that E-Dawg and I had our first-ever tastes of the sperm sac of the blowfish. I'd had fugu liver before (the poisonous part), at the ludicrously expensive and exceedingly delicious Ginza Sushi-ko, but never the sperm sac. It proved to be no let down.
As part of the B-plan omakase that Katzu offers, you are next delivered dashi in a teapot-- a seafood dashi rich in shrimp, shitake mushrooms, and some kind of whitefish. You sqeeze a lime into the broth, pour yourself a cup, and drink the divine goodness that results when bonito flakes and konbu are brought together in just the right combination and for just the right amount of time.
And then on to the sushi. First were two large cuts of toro-- this was big eye, not blue fin, but it was still terrifically fatty-- one from below the fin, and the other from the stomach itself. Next were two hefty cuts apiece of hamachi and kampachi-- both brilliant, but the hamachi was particularly fantastic. I think it was then that we saw Katzu go to work on a live scallop. After he had shelled the creature and cut it into thirds, he held the pieces over the counter to show us that it was indeed still alive. I was about to eat right out of his hands, but at that moment, he brought them back over the counter, put them on their beds of rice, and seasoned them with lime and sea salt. Then he served us halibut and the saba that caused E-Dawg, once having eaten it, to writhe around in a fugue of semiconscious, semi-orgasmic, semi-breathing euphoria, uttering something along the lines of, "That was the single best thing that has ever been in my mouth... It lingers... It's long... I want to fuck Katzu." And then came the finale: uni with shiso; and dungeness crab atop its own brain. And then it was over.
Or, not quite over. At some point towards the end of the meal, the two of us aswirl in a cocktail of sake and omega 3 fatty acids, E-Dawg endeavored to lecture the Spanish woman sitting to our left about Franco, fascism, and, if I remember correctly, fisting. Oh, but it's all a blur...
The check, with tip, was $110. This is not a cheap meal for two, but I would nonetheless rank it pound-for-pound as one of the best deals in town in terms of getting what you pay for. I know of no other super-high-quality sushi joint that lets you off so easy. A truly delicious, utterly transformative meal. I want to fuck Katzu.
posted by captionjockey at 4:44 PM
