Aku Eats Oahu : a closer look : Sushi Sasabune, a closer look

Sushi Sasabune, a closer look

Aloha!

7/28/08 - "Wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off" ..... Forget the heavy bag, speed bag, and jump rope. Daniel-san put in about as much painful agony and humble pie washing Miyagi-san's yellow bomber and finishing the old man's house-hold chores as anyone could possibly stand. Feeling used and abused and further from karate than ever, little did he know the endless hours of washing and wiping had already given him a sturdy and necessary base out of which the finer aspects of the ancient art could then be pursued. Had he quit right there, in dismay over soapy, pruned hands and an aching back, he never would have ended up kicking the bully's ass!

Rigorous Japanese training methods in just about every art form are truly legendary, from Karate, archery, and sumo to Zen meditation, tea ceremonials, wood-fired pottery, and calligraphy. On-the-job apprenticeship periods can stretch to the realm of college degrees and are often every bit as brutal, if not more so. Much more so, in some cases. Sumo is perhaps one of the more extreme examples. With only the cream of the crop able to advance and surmount the rookie wrestler's overwhelming list of Herculean tasks, those able to excel are lavishly rewarded and elevated to an almost God-like status. Those not performing are stuck soaping up and hand-washing the entire (and I do mean entire!) bodies of stinky 400 lb. senior wrestlers, constant ridicule and berating, and physical and mental torture that'd be illegal anywhere in the States!

However... There is a method to all this madness. Really. Such borderline-crazy competition and training, with its "survival-of-the-fittest" weeding-out process, does ensure a perpetuation of even the finest points of any art form or discipline. Brutal, it is, but to those who accept and survive the challenges, a sense of pride and perfection is achieved that can be attained in no other way. This ensures that the next generation of gatekeepers take the same level of care, maintain the same level of skill and expertise, and acquire the same sense of respect to the spirit of the art originally intended. No cheap imitations here. No internet correspondence courses. No weekend seminars down at the Hyatt or Hilton.

At Sushi Sasabune in McCully, you'll find a sense of discipline and homage to this type of traditional excellence. You get the feeling of total respect to an art, with a chef in complete control of his entire domain. Everything in the restaurant is constantly monitored under his watchful eye, making sure every process honors the craft to a carefully-refined tee.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking... Sushi Nazi, right? Hey, go ahead and tease, but if that be you, ask youself this: When it comes down to it, what kind of skills do you have yourself? How far can you excell in whatever it is you do? How much pride do you take in any specific endeavor? Or have you not had the balls to even go after anything to the mmmph degree? Anyone pursuing a craft with whole-hearted passion and determination, whether it's sushi, flower arranging, wood-working, or martial arts is definitely worthy, in my book, of a healthy degree of admiration. This kind of accomplishment in any field is a sure sign of skill and excellence in the person himself.

"Hey Aku, what's with the heavy hand?"..... And what's with the "A" word and "B" word?

Hey... No worries, mate - Just trying to provide some backdrop and perspective, is it. After all, I don't want you walking into Sushi Sasabune so flippantly. Preparing yourself with a healthy dose of respect will go a long ways in allowing you to enjoy the entire experience in all its fullness. You can set yourself up without regard or care for any ol' cheap meal, but do the same for an exquisitely-crafted one and you're throwing away money. You'll end up missing all the finer points that make it so memorable and worth every bit of your time.

So anyway... We go eat, brah!!!

Notice the sign says "trust me?" This is what's called omakase, or trust the chef to give you only what is best on any given day. In a world where fish are flown in from the other side of the globe and freshness is as important as April 15th is to Uncle Sam, only he knows what kinds of fish will be of the best quality when you arrive at the restaurant.

Actually, only persons seated at the bar directly fronting the chef are given omakase treatment. Those on regular tables can be served whatever they want, but remember that there is a minimum order - I believe it was eight pieces (not eight orders!) per person, but don't quote me on that. Here is the small dining area. It's not the biggest place around and they easily fill up, so make sure you call in to reserve a spot under any circumstance - this shot was taken late in the evening after the crowds left.

And this is the large sushi bar surrounding our iron chef. Having come a few times already, wifey and I have no problem at all trusting the chef. Doesn't look so bad, does he?

The first thing to arrive at our table, besides the overflowing cup of Dewazakura Junmai Ginjyo (don't worry, I'll put out a good sake page explaining everything real soon, in preparation for the Joy of Sake Festival coming on August 28th), was a plate of ginger and wasabi, both side-kicks to the sushi. Ever see how much a fresh wasabi root costs at Marukai or Don Quijote? You'd think they were truffles or matsutake mushrooms! The taste of fresh-grated wasabi is much smoother and more delicate than the tube or powders normally used, with a creamier, more attractive texture. Very unsurprisingly, Sasabune brought out the real stuff!

What came next was nothing short of a raw fish and seafood orgy. 14 separate courses of 20 different dishes came and went, each with its own unique personality and distinct qualities.

Just to let you know, however... I'm not a gawking teenager lavishing undue praise, shamelessly brown-nosing any one establishment for some kind of unforeseen gain. I can say that the presentation here is not quite given as much attention or care, at least not to the degree of modern restaurants these days. Some baked items come, as you'll see later, in a rather unattractive aluminum foil wrap, and tricked-out, ornately-designed plates are not used. Garnishes are also nowhere to be found, outside of what comes directly on the sushi pieces.

But then again, who needs all the foo-foo? This is straight-forward sushi where taste, quality, and freshness is tantamount. If you want modern glamour and frills, go to Nobu's (and I don't mean that in a derogatory way - I love modern glamour and frills sometimes!), but if you want unparalleled, fresh, quality sushi, this is your place every time.

And forgive me, please - the pictures are not the sharpest at all. I just found out what I heard was a technical bane to many a photographer's learning curve (not that I consider myself a photographer!). It has to do with never using an image stabilization feature when using a tripod, especially in dark areas with long exposure times, like tonight's situation. Gad-zook's! I wish I had learned this before I came to such a picture-worthy restaurant! I always wondered why my darker pictures weren't coming out quite as sharp! Live and learn, I guess. Catch 'em next time. Sorry!

The first dish to arrive was the plate of sashimi shown above, full of albacore from Canada. This is the first time I've come where the chef didn't feature a sashimi starter with both red and white fish, arranged beautifully in alternating colors in a classic pinwheel. No worries, though, this one was aaall good, tender pieces of fish with a slightly crispy touch coming bathed in a delicate ponzu-type sauce. Floating in the sauce was an almost broth-like quality of particles of who-knows-what. Whatever it was, I sure enjoyed it. We were also prodded to use wasabi on this particular dish, something I just completely forgot to do! Hungry, I was!

Following that was a stuffed squid with blue crab. I loved the charcoal-black, rough-textured, rustic-looking mini-platter it came in, which accentuated the bolder qualities of this traditional dish. The squid was anything but bold, coming soft, delicately flavored, and very fresh, but the thick, dark, unagi-like glaze and sprinkling of sesame seeds gave it a deliciously stronger, more robust quality. I soaked the sweet crab with every bit of the rich sauce I could find on the plate, local boy that I am!

Next was a couple of beautiful-looking tuna. Holding down the rear is a big-eye from Midway, while the foreground covers a Spanish bluefin. No, that's not a salmon - just a super-luscious, melt-in-your-mouth slice of ocean gold, filled with fatty, omega-3 goodness that just about blew my mind.

To compound matters in a very positive way, the chef has the distinction of presenting rice warm instead of at room temperature, which has a uniquely pleasing effect of making the fish taste even more creamy and buttery. I suspect it has at least partially to do with an ever-so-slight melting of the fatty tissue, kinda like how the fat in a quality piece of Kobe (not Kobe-style or Kobe-like!) or Kagoshima beef is so delicate that it breaks down the moment it hits the warmth of a cutting board. Place the beef on a grill for too long, and the fat will quickly disintegrate and dry into any ol' "regular" piece of beef; fire it up for just a few precious seconds, when the fat is only slightly rendered but still there, and you'll be treated to one of the most exquisite cuts of meat you can ever experience.

Warm rice under cold fish is a matter of preference, but for me, the unique sensation of different temperatures competing for attention in my mouth seems to stimulate and heighten the awareness of my palate as a whole, evoking a kind of hyper-sensitivity where you "lock on" to the warm, and all of a sudden, the cold hits you over the head. And then vice-versa, and on and on... You gotta watch both sides. It really does heighten your senses in a way, creating a more attuned vigilance in perception.

Much of the Japanese fish presented this evening came from Kyushu, the southernmost of the larger islands in the chain. That is, unless you count Okinawa, which is even further towards the equator. This beautiful pink hamachi shown next is from Kyushu, and was only one of a handful of pieces that were meant to be dipped in the wasabi/shoyu.

Unlike most sushi houses, a good portion of sushi here actually comes already sauced, each arriving with specific orders (not recommendations!), mostly of the "eat w/shoyu" or "no shoyu" variety. Try dipping when you're told not to, and believe me, you WILL get kicked out! Please - just listen and don't be so much of a rebel, allright? There are plenty of other places where you can eat sushi any 'ol way you want. Here, every piece is carefully crafted and well thought-out, the balance of flavors working off eachother to produce just the right taste combinations. Trust, Daniel-san, trust...

Following that was a Japanese snapper (tai) up-front and a halibut (hirame) behind. The snapper was a dipper, with a crisp, clean taste and texture while the halibut came already sauced, with a soy-based, zingy citrus touch and a topping of green onion and daikon oroshi. The white daikon turns orange, not from food coloring or a genetic mutation created in some lab, but when grated together with a tiny bit of red pepper.

The use of two different fish to a course is another thing I love about this place. It allows you to sample more kinds of fish in one sitting, creating a smorgasboard effect where so many dishes fly down the pike that you may not remember what hit you when walking out, but you will know that it was goo-ood!!!

Next up was King salmon from New Zealand and scallop from California. The salmon was as rich and buttery as any good salmon should be, and came with a paper-thin sheet of seaweed and sprinkling of sesame seed. The scallop was so fresh and soft, with such an unbelievably clean flavor that you completely forget it came from the bottom of the ocean.

The first dynamite-style baked item to appear was one of those dishes that may not garner a Hoku for best presentation. I kinda like to see the shell when slurping down an oyster. I know, I know, there's a reason for it. Maybe the calcium crust 'd probably get burned, thin edges breaking off into the soft centers for unexpected crunchy surprises, or who knows what? Still, if I had my choice, I'd rather see the shell!

Whatever the case, and dispensing with any further personal ranting, the small oyster inside was delicious. I remember in times past that the mayo was a bit heavy on certain baked dishes, but this time around it seemed less proportionally used, a definite plus for wifey, who, with her minimalistic Japanese approach to food served in simple, classic fashion, can't stomach an overload of heavy mayo or overly stimulating sauces.

Holy smokes, Batman! I forgot to take a picture of the ama ebi (shrimp)! What a shame, since it was fabulous, hailing from the southwest Pacific island nation of New Caledonia. Lightly salted, we were also given clear instructions to not eat it with shoyu.

Wifey and I both looked at eachother in shock at the lost moment and opportunity in digital photography. Maybe the urge to wolf it down was just too great? Maybe I was momentarily overcome by the lazy temptation to just sit back, relax, sip on sake, and enjoy the sushi ride without having to take little notes and worry about technical camera issues? Not to mention catching stares from the people around for taking so many pictures. The couple next to us thought we were some big-time food writers or something - Oh, puh-leeez! Just another guy with a website/blog, is all, doing what I love to do!

Anyhow, plan B went into full effect as I quickly grabbed the other piece of sushi on her platter, a katsuo tataki, complete with slightly-seared edges, and placed it on my also-half-gone-plate. This is why you see two same pieces on this next serving dish, with shrimp nowhere in sight! Big-time food writer? Puh-leeez!!!

Following the glitch was a plate of two jack fishes, one a kanpachi (on the right) and the other a shima-aji, both from Kyushu. Of the two, kanpachi is a bit crispier and snappier than the other, the shima-aji also coming firm but with more of that creamy, fatty texture and taste I prefer much more.

Both of these were meant to be dipped into shoyu/wasabi in the classic fashion. As you can tell from the small green mound hiding in the background of the next pic, I hardly even used any wasabi, despite being well into 8th course of the meal and 13th and 14th different types of sushi - that is not a re-fill mound!

Be careful when dipping here, another of the many things to be aware of when dining at Sushi Sasabune. In addition to using the warm rice I spoke of earlier, be aware that the grains are only lightly packed together and can quickly lose their shape if tinkered with too much, an important aspect that ties in to the delicate nuances of fine sushi-making. Rice densely packed is a sure sign of an amateur at work, a bit like some of the rolls you find at the grocery store.

The correct way to dip, at least here, is to grab the whole piece from the bottom with chopsticks, then quickly and gently dip the rice itself into the shoyu. Let it sit for a split-second too long and you'll find grains falling off into the dark sauce - a sure no-no and sign of disrespect to the chef and the art. I can't say I'm perfect, though. I still had to clean a few grains out of the shoyu when the chef wasn't looking!

Finally, the dish I had been waiting for finally arrived! It is the chef's signature dish - negi-toro. Judging purely from looks, it seems hard to tell that this bluefin tuna is actually chopped very fine and then shaped into molds that mimic a slice. When you bite into it, however, you can tell by how easily it melts in your mouth. This version of negi-toro is my all-time favorite anywhere, coming in a sweetened shoyu sauce and garnished with just a touch of round and green onion. Flawless.

The next and last baked item for the evening was a small lobster tail. Like the oyster, it came in an aluminum foil wrapping, smothered in a layer of mayo dynamite. In times past we were given one prepared in this particular style and another raw, but much to wifey's chagrin, both arrived cooked. Me? I was one happy camper. Baked lobster? My, goodness.

Our stomachs getting real close to maximum stretch, this simple hand roll of Lousiana blue crab was actually the last course of the evening - diners still hungry can order more, though, as we managed to somehow do. It seemed almost out-of-place next to the classier nigiri-zushi pieces served all night, but there is an unorthodox manner in which things are done here, which I'll get into little bit later.

The blue crab was delicious, however, not overly sauced or touched up with a lot of filler, preserving the sweet taste of the crab itself. And if you can notice from the pic, the roll is in an oval shape, not stuffed into a fat circle with lots of rice like the fast-food sushi rolls so popular these days. The amount of grains was much less, as to not fill up on rice, but crab. Or fish. Or other shellfish.

The confident but easy-going chef's apprentice, a young local-boy from Kauai with an already-impressive wealth of experience at various other top Japanese restaurants around, explained that we, ourselves, could choose the next dish, if we wanted one. Of course, I was already in "trust the chef" mode all night, so I just allowed him to pick for me. Good move. The tender strips of sweet snow crab legs from Tottori, Japan, were a sweet and refreshing end to my evening. The two pieces came with a kani miso, which is a nice way of saying crab guts, something I normally shy away from and leave to more hard-core eaters like wifey.

The chef's apprentice also was surprised to find out wifey was from Japan, looking very much like a local girl and her English much improved these days after four years of island living. He mentioned that they also have a Japanese-style set of courses, with more shellfish and more exotic ingredients than the toned-down courses they serve to normal Joe's like myself! Uh, oh. She'll be dragging me in here again sometime soon, for sure! I better put in more OT right away!

She was also still in the game, though just barely, and went with a Nagasaki-plucked tako (octopus) and an ika (squid) with uni (sea urchin) shiokara. The brownish paste of shiokara is a pungent mix of urchin innards, salt, and malted rice, fermented into even higher toxicity levels. It is quite the explosive delicacy, meeting most of wifey's dining pleasures - slimy, potent, nasal-opening, and very exotic. This woman is something else, boy, lemme tell you. I don't need no oysters to get me in the mood.

Finally, and at long last, we both tapped-out. The marathon run was over. No Mas! It's been at least a couple of years since wifey and I were able to treat ourselves to an omakase feast at Sushi Sasabune, and it easily lived up to our high expectations.

As stated earlier, Sasabune can be a little unorthodox, the chef pushing into realms that can neither be described as totally traditional nor completely new-wave. The more intuitive, better part of me wants to herald this restaurant as traditional, especially after the whole "traditional Japanese training" shmeal I described in the beginning, but with mayo-baked oysters and lobster, a few new-wave-type sauces incorporated in, and an atmosphere that is definitely not the most traditional in design, I can't really say that.

On the other hand, this is by no means a new-wave, fusion sushi house, either. The essence and spirit the chef commands in this place is absolute and old-school in every way. The over-all effect of the restaurant definitely gives you a sense of the culturally-minded respect and honor so prevalent in traditional Japanese society as a whole, and of the zealous perfection and craftsmanship required in their fine arts. In this age of instant microwave dinners and snap-your-fingers service, few have the discipline to follow such old-school pursuits, which is why I'm thankful that places like Sasabune still exist.

Me, I'm glad for "Sushi Nazi's" everywhere! May they live long and prosper! How else can I keep eating good sushi?

I hope you are intrigued enough to give it a shot. I know the chef has a stern reputation, but don't let that scare you. Look him in the eye, be respectful of everything and everyone in the restaurant, don't be an idiot, and you'll be treated to some of the best sushi on the island! Simple as that.

Hope your weekend was as great as mine!

Take care and Aloha till next time,

Aku

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