Tonight is a special night for me. In fact, it is one of the most special events of my entire stay in Japan. I have planned for this event since my arrival in September, a journey to see one of Japan's greatest living legends, named by the government a national treasure. He has received 3 Michelin stars two years in a row, and is considered by many to be the world's greatest sushi chef, serving the world's best sushi. In a tiny restaurant located in a somewhat dirty Subway station, I'm here to find an answer to the question- is this really it, the final stop for those searching for the best sushi in the world?
The exterior of Sukiyabashi Jiro.
Sukiyabashi Jiro, located by the C6 exit in Ginza station, in the basement of an office building, has only ten seats. Being a sort-of mecca for sushi lovers, it is incredibly difficult to book a table here. I manage to snag one of the coveted spots in the off-season month of February.
TV personality and chef, Anthony Bourdain, eats at Sukiyabashi Jiro for what he calls the "best sushi experience of my life."
I arrive at 6:50 for a 7pm reservation, and am seated immediately. I take my seat at the counter, only to see behind the bar the man himself- Jiro Ono, living sushi legend. He's been making sushi since he was seven, almost eighty years now. He is the topic of a documentary being released this spring, called Jiro Dreams of Sushi. He and his son, also present and behind the bar, have turned Sukiyabashi Jiro into the world-class establishment it is; and, when I say world-class, I mean no pretense, no dimmed lights, no kitschy music; just the sounds of running water in the background, amidst a silent group of people reverently preparing themselves for Jiro's work.
Jiro Ono has been making sushi for nearly 80 years of his life.
Fresh from my lesson at Tsukiji on sushi etiquette, I know a few things to start. The container of soy sauce they offer me goes untouched- Jiro seasons the fish with the sauces he knows goes with them. Mess with that, and you're already off on the wrong foot. Also, the chopsticks in front of me are unopened- if you want to do this right, use your fingers.
Within a minute of taking my seat, Jiro hands me my first piece of sushi, beginning the official 15-course meal of the evening.
A word about the following photos. Photography is allowed at Sukiyabashi Jiro, but the chefs inform Jiro of this beforehand. Jiro presents you with a piece of sushi just a few seconds before it is meant to be eaten, at its peak of perfection. If you are taking photos, he will give you a few seconds extra. I had to take quick photos of his delicate work, so the quality in some might not be on par with what I might usually like to put up. In this meal, however, there are no second chances, and no photo is worth sacrificing this rare, beautiful moment.
The evening begins with Hirame; the cut is tender, soft, with the right balance of sweetness and fishiness; it dissolves almost instantly on the palate. My first notice, however, and major praise of the entire meal, is the quality of the rice. The rice at Sukiyabashi Jiro is highly acidic, too vinegary for some, but just right for me. Jiro's chefs strictly monitor the rice- it must be kept at human body temperature, according to the staff.
Sumi-ika follows; the squid is soft and crunchy, and the delicate sauce it is seasoned with gives it a buttery flavor that is found only in high quality squid.
Buri comes next; buri is a winter delicacy in Japan, highly prized and expensive. This cut, fatty, rich and moist is the peak of the crop. It is juicy, and melds with the acidity of the rice perfectly.
Akami is the fourth in the line up; this is a firm, precise cut of fish that gives the palate a sense of sharpness and delicacy. It gives one a short break from the tenderness of the buri to savor, enjoy, before the highlights of the evening arrive.
Chu-toro is known as medium grade toro, the fatty meal of the belly area of the tuna fish, arguably some of the most expensive and prized sushi in Japan. Chu-toro is one step below Oo-toro, the finest cut of toro, but this piece would make most slices of Oo-toro seem like canned fish. It is perfect, everything working together to create an experience of completely tender meat that dissolves into the rice perfectly.
Oo-toro follows its medium-grade sibling, and what words can be written of it? It is literally a perfect piece of fish, a fatty morsel of culinary splendor, shaped with just the ideal amount of rice. It is the one of the rising crescendos to this meditative meal.
Kohada makes the seventh course of the evening; a fresh water fish lightly marinated before being served, it is a delicious, savory treat reminiscent of saba.
Akagai: what can also be said of this work of art? Unbelievably tender on the outside, and slightly chewy on the inside. Dabbed with a small piece of wasabi in the middle, and brushed with a savory, sweet sauce. It is less rich and decadent, introducing a bit of tasty flair into the evening's dishes.
A mystery delight: Jiro presents me with this delicacy, although I dare not ask what it is and it is not on the menu for the evening. A small present from the master, I gratefully accept it and enjoy. It is sweet, chewy, and entirely savory.
Tako gets us back onto the official set menu; this is by far the most surprising joy of the evening. Tako has always had a chewy texture wherever I have tried it, be it in Arizona, England, and even Japan. It was just so naturally associated with me- a slice of tako is a chewy, at times rubbery, experience. This had none of this; it was so tender that it began to melt into the rice after just a few moments of consuming. This feat is a major testament to the quality of the cooking skills of Jiro's crew- not a moment too long, and ideally seasoned with sea salt.
Aji comes next, and what is a joy it is. If I had thought I had found tender in food, this proved me on an inferior level. There are no words to describe the succulent richness of the meat, a perfect cut of fish from a specimen of its kind, a savory delight that touches the palate with decadence.
Now, this next dish, Kuruma-ebi, is very special. This single shrimp is so large is has to be sliced in two to fit on the plate. One eats the head part first, the richest side of the shrimp, followed by the meatier tail side. It is the best shrimp I have ever had, and I don't think any will be surpassing it soon.
Sayori follows; two individual slices cut into the shapes of strings, Jiro weaves them together and balances them perfectly onto the rice. They are as tender as the Aji, an impressive combination of flavor and taste.
Dessert has not come yet, but if the Hamaguri served were to act in its place, it would not surprise me. Seasoned with a sugary-sweet sauce, and enjoyably chewy, it acts as yet another break from the richness and heaviness of the dishes, giving one several sweet moments to savor and enjoy before returning to their reverent state.
Saba is one of my favorites; marinated mackerel has a potent taste that deters many, but I relish it. This piece of saba is special- it has very little of the fishiness traditionally associated with mackerel and is a thick, rich slice with a delicate marinade. It is a prime piece that might give even those who completely dislike saba a pause for reconsideration.
If there is a holy moment in the evening, a bit of time when things simply come to a natural halt, it is when the uni arrives. Uni must be eaten quickly when it is served, so I snap my shot and then bite into it. Uni usually has one of two tastes- a sort-of enjoyable blandness, or a rich, earthy taste that gives one a sense of a flavor of the ocean. This uni is neither, above them both; it tastes like a sort-of rich cream, dissipating on the palate into a series of lush textures and sensations that go beyond taste. It has created the moment for me, and is the best uni I imagine I will ever find.
Kobashira is an enjoyable follow-up to the uni; it has little taste in itself, but is a nice, meaty afterthought, allowing one to return from the uni without mixing up the flavors of the two. It is, much like the accompanying ginger, a sort-of palate cleanser, preparing me for the final pieces of the evening.
The Ikura is a special treat here. The eggs delightfully pop in one's mouth, and the flavors are rich and savory. I enjoy, although the Hokkaido-ikura I had last week might take the cake for number one thus far. Still, they are are wonderful compliment to the meal.
Another best for me: the Anago at Sukiyabashi Jiro is the best I have ever tasted. A common way to explain anago is as a less-tender form of unagi, more chewy. I say with complete confidence that this Anago is more tender than any piece of unagi I have ever had. It is food of the sushi gods, a perfectly texture medley that, quite literally, melts at the touch of the palate. It is perfect, savory, and the most decadent dish of the evening.
The official course concludes with a serving of tamago. Jiro orders his tamago from a specialty company in Tsukiji, and I can understand why- the egg literally has the texture of cheesecake, the natural sweetness of the egg complimenting its brilliant texture.
At the end of the meal, I am asked if I would like to repeat anything. I humbly ask if I may try another serving of the tako, the single dish that, to be honest, before arriving I thought I could have done without. Now I am using one of my rare chances to take another taste, and it is as wonderful as the first. I also indulge in a final morsel of uni, and then am led to the dessert table.
Dessert is a slice of musk melon; it is the sweetest I have ever had, and can immediately tell that this is one of the gourmet, prized melons one sees for sale wrapped in silk in department stores. It is a treasure I did not think I would try while in Japan, a beautiful send off to the best sushi experience of my life.
My own photo of Jiro-san.
The most special aspect of this evening for me is that, while there were four chefs behind the bar, each serving the customers, Jiro was the one who prepared my sushi and served it to me. His son took over to make the uni, ikura, and kobashira for me, and then Jiro finished off my course. There could have been no better way for me to enjoy this treat, a special, once-in-a-lifetime experience that has given me a deeper understanding of both sushi and the Japanese culture than many of my other experiences in this past six months.
When I arrived, I had a simple question in mind: does Sukiyabashi Jiro serve the best sushi in the world? My answer is equally simple: there might be better cuts of fish elsewhere in the world, or even on another day- such is the luck of the draw. But, as far as technique and preparation goes, I can think of no better place in the world I have frequented to eat sushi at. Jiro's mastery shows one both the potential of sushi and the eating experience.
If you plan to go to Sukiyabashi Jiro, keep these things in mind: if you are looking for a place to socialize with friends, have a good time with some amazing food, there are other places more suited to your taste. Even groups of people sit quietly at the sushi bar, and only the chefs speak to Jiro. During my time there we only exchanged nods twice. Jiro is not cold, and his is not unsociable, but he is there to do his job. Nearly 90, he moves with the grace and skill of the karate master, the ikebana sensei, or the priest performing a familiar ritual- he is, in every sense of the word, a true master. Sit quietly, enjoy his creations, and let him focus on his task.
If you are comfortable with doing that, then by all means, go and see this living marvel while you can; relax, expect nothing, and you just might be changed by what you encounter in Jiro Ono's tiny restaurant, Sukiyabashi Jiro. On a final note, be sure not to forget Jiro's rule of timing: he gives you the sushi just before it is meant to be eaten. Don't let it linger too long on the plate- you'll have one of the best sushi courses of your life, 15 pieces of heaven...in about twenty minutes. Have the real experience- it's worth it- and enjoy.
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