Kaizen Zushi

From what I have read, kaizen sushi is a lot like speed dating- for the females, at least. You butt-warm your seat, put on your observe-scope and scrutinize the candidates as they rove by.



Naturally, you have a good idea of what you are looking out for and begin to sieve out the ‘maybes’ from the ‘no-ways’.

While one may only have 3 minutes in an actual meeting, Malcolm Gladwell’s notion of adaptive unconscious proves you have what it takes to make a sound evaluation within 3 seconds.



You only make a move when someone(thing) intrigues you; should others fall short of expectations, you move on.

Fortunately when one slips past you, you have a second chance. This is where the sushi scores one up against speed dating. Better yet, if you like what’s in front of you, you could always help yourself to second or more helpings. Kaizen zushi 2, speed dating 0



‘Conveyor belt sushi’ is what we are used to but the actual term is ‘kaiten zushi’. In Singapore, such “restaurants” appeal to the masses but are often low on quality. Honestly, I think many people may not think much of kaiten zushi but my experience at Shinjuku was actually pretty darn good. For starters, the menu doesn’t read like mad scientist recipe and secondly, the way the rice cowered under a canopy of fish indicated that half the battle was won.

Note to Sakae, Ichiban and Sushi Tei: this is what sushi is supposed to look like.



For a pair of nigiri, prices start from 136 Yen to 320 Yen, expect to pay 400 Yen for chutoro and 630 Yen for otoro. What upgraded my experience from “not bad” to “pretty darn good” were the “chu toros” and “otoros”. Absolute slabs of fatty tuna, the fattiness voluntarily implodes in your mouth. Each time I took a bite, my facial muscles would reflex to form an involuntary look of pure enjoyment, followed by a dramatic ‘mmm’ eyes-wide-shut exclamation.

OH-MY-toro! Oh yeah...



Very interesting ad I found on Youtube.



Dove Evolution Advertisement by Ogilvy & Mather Canada.

Tsukiji Fish Market

I went to Tokyo but I gave Tsukiji a miss.












Just kidding. I can so see you guys gasping in disbelief and a couple of you (yes, you over there with sushi desktop picture) reaching for your inhalers. I could pass up on Mount Fuji (which I did) but Tsukiji? Naught-ta chance.





When it comes to sushi and sahsimi, Tsukiji is usually found on the "Top Five Places to ..." lists in travel guidebooks. Chuck yours if that isn't the case. Away from neon and gaga-centricity, the fabled fish market bears an aura of mystery mix tradition. You can quote me on this: any sushi lover has to pay homage to the world's largest fish market at least once in his / her life. And if you beg to differ, erm actually I don't really care! HAHA.

As you would have probably guess by now, breakfast is my favouritest meal of the day. Be it churros and hot chocolate in Spain, pain in France, baked beans on toast in London, breakfast is a great way to observe locals at their "freshest". But in this case, the "locals" refer to the fish themselves.



We didn't get up in time for the going-once-going-twice auction (so I don't have dismembered fish carcass stories to brag about) but we sure made it in time for a grand chapter in my travel chronicles- Hearty Breakfast in Tsukiji. Although it is wise to visit in twos (max threes), we were lucky to get four seats in a shoebox-sized restaurant. With tourist-friendly set menus, we wasted no time diving right into our omakase, which consisted of uni, ika, chutoro, tamago, minced unagi and some makis.



Ever get the feeling that whenever someone talks about Tsujiki Fish Market, his/her eyes widen in excitement, they get really really energetic, and they talk reallyreallyfast, almost resembling the animated auctioneers themseves. Turns out there's good reason for such enthusiasm.



Good sushi dispenses the need for shoyu and extra wasabi. Although I couldn't wait to begin, I took the longest time to start, choosing to spend a couple of minutes admiring each nigiri piece, lavishing it with a look of desire typically reserved for Eames chairs.

Finally after shaking off suspicious i'm-gonna-take-it-if-you-don't-start looks from my family, I "reluctantly" tucked in. Each mouthful of creamy goop triggered extreme bouts of gratification cum sadness as I wondered when I will be able to enjoy this again. Arh, parting is such sweet sorrow.



We wrapped things up with miso soup, filled with chunks of i-have-forgotten-what-fish. Though atypical, it was a lovely way to end the meal. Naturally, some would ask, "Ok, raw fish for breakfast... what's the big fuss and why can't I get a cooked breakfast?" Well, the beauty of it is 'none'. Free of adornments, garnishes and fake plastic flowers, the fuss-free experience has been stripped down to its bare minimum of a slab of today's catch over petite mould of vinegar rice. And if you still don't get it, it's ok! We will visit Tsukiji together and I will eat your share.

Yeah! World Peace!


Our chef, A dead-ringer for the Anpan Man.



THIS, my dear readers, is as fresh as it gets, that is unless you take a boat out and fish for yourself (thanks but I'll pass).

Cedele at Wheelock

I still have loads of backtracks from Japan, but I can't help but blog about Cedele (not again?!) first. Cedele at Wheelock is turning out to be more than memorable but for reasons other than its food. I haven't visited it since the dark-soya-sauce episode but yesterday, Ming, Qin and I gathered there for lunch. Things began normal enough: we ordered sandwiches, choose our bread and polished it off with great ease. Once we were done, our cutlery and plates were swept away with alacrity that would win the foodcourt auntie's seal of approval. we deicded to have dessert eslewhere but before we called for the bill, a waitress brought a plate of blueberry pancakes to our table.

Uh-oh, order screw up, I thought to myself.

Instinctively, we informed her we didn't order the pancakes and in fact, we were about to call for the bill. But she insisted that we accept the pancakes and immediately, the skeptic in me thought it could be one of those "promotional items" where they introduced something new to diners, trap them into playing for something they didn't order (Sushi Tei used to do this).

Then she mentioned,"It's from the Chef" for undisclosed reasons and believe me when I say the 3 of us were flabbergasted. Bewilderment soon turned to sheer amusement because the pancakes were HEART-SHAPED! As in "L.O.V.E-I-heart-you" heart-shaped! I know it sounds secret-admirer-creepy but we weren't folks who would reject free pancakes. I don't have a picture because I didn't think there would be anything blogworthy after that many visits. Howdy-doo I was wrong!

Never mind it seems like something out of a Garry Marshall movie, it ain't everyday when people like us receive treats of affection from the Chef. Served with orange butter (which I likey very much) and maple syrup, it was filled with bounteous goodness of fresh blueberries. Arh, creepy or not, it was fun slicing through the hearts.



On Sunday, my parents and I wanted to visit Kinokuniya and keen to stay clear of Takashimaya and Wisma for lunch, we made a pitstop at Cedele Wheelock instead. Mum had the Teriyaki Plum Chicken, grilled chicken slathered with their "special" teriyaki plum sauce, served together with red pepper quinoa and salad greens.



For a minute, I thought to myself, "Arh, tasty.. I could try replicating this chicken at home" but logic reigned as I would have to buy a bottle of Teriyaki Plum Sauce, which I would probably use only once and relegate it to the back of the cupboard. So much for my domestic goddess dreams.



Dad had the Sirloin Cheddar sandwhich and I had the Roasted Vegetable Soup with tons of bread (I blame the irresistable bread bar).

Afternoon Tea La Palette Zakka

Home internet is still screwy. HELLO SINGTEL?! Despite 3 technicians coming down, countless phonecalls to IT hotline 1800 8486 933 (I can memorize your hotline number, for crying out loud), a change of NEW modem (I only re-contracted under the promise of a new WORKING modem), the DSL light is STILL blinking! And it is especially irritating when the connection is fine when the technician tests it and only breaks down thereafter, usually at night.

GRRR. fix it. fix it. fix it.

aRGHH Back to Japan. How inappropriate to start on sound a snarly note especially for this Martha-esque post. If you love Muji, I don't think we can get along.



Presenting Afternoon Tea, Wonder ZakkaShop!

I first found this amazing cafe/store in Osaka and fell in love with just about anything that had a monogram on it. Matching cup and saucers, teapots, organizers, lunchboxes, tiffin cans, bathrobes... It was like Bree Hodge/ Van De Kamp meets Charlotte York. There were just so many things I never knew I needed, heck, I still don't need them I just WANT them!

Now who doesn't love a nice spot of Afternoon Tea? In a bid to soak up every bit of indescribable girliness, I went into every Afternoon Tea store that crossed my path.. Osaka Shinsaibashi, Tokyo Ginza, Tokyo Roppongi Hills... each time left me with that sinking feeling of not being able to ship back the entire store!







Suburban 1950s housewives, I think not. More like Yummy Mummies and their Maclaren Kate Spade strollers.








From Afternoon Tea website

I love zakka shops! They make me weak in the knees and fueling my super-geeky fetish for cute-with-matching-dimples stationaries. Man, I couldn't get enough of these zakke shops! I mean, why get a plain white semi-transparant folder when you can have one with Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar? And while you are at it, get some matching pencils and eraser too!

Kaori Shoji wrote in International Herald Tribune (Not Martha Stewart living?!), "Zakka is the art of seeing the savvy in the ordinary and mundane..." I must admit these stores have the ability to make me denounce Hot Shot Career plans and veer into Coiffed Bob Wifey mode.


La Palette (Osaka)


La Palette (Osaka)


La Palette (Osaka)

I could barely tear myself away from the pattern-coded wicker baskets and pwetty bedroom slippers. Matching tableware? That's so last Desperate Houswives season! Here we are talking about elephant-shaped watering cans, clothespins with wood carvings and hand painted toilet seat covers. It is about sprucing up the most boring things in life (sorry, they don't sell Interesting Colleagues here). God forbid I ever start liking Muji (minimalist with a *yawn*) or Zen.

Osaka Kanidoraku Honten

Crab aren’t really my thing.

Maximum effort, minimal meat. All that shell-cracking, nitpicking and digging, for pittance of crab silvers. Since there are only two pincers per crab, most people end up with the crabby 2% lean meat legs. Oh and don’t get me started on how messy crab eating can get!

As a result, no one was more surprised than myself when a trip to Osaka's iconic Kanidoraku Honten begetted a more than memorable experience. The JRI restaurant specializes in crab (well one doesn’t exactly come to KANIdoraku looking for chicken) but it kept preparation style minimal, allowing for the natural taste of fresh seasonal crabs to fall through.



We opted for the kaiseki ryori, where everything, from serving time to choice of ceramics, has been meticulously planned for that ceremonial effect. The performers were undoubtedly the dishes themselves, a light tasting menu made up of several grazeworthy dishes.



First up, we were presented with a dish of cold crab, followed by a platter of grilled crab and sashimi. Our starters served as barometers of freshness; in particular, the sashimi was blessed with such delicate sweetness and malleable texture.



Next up, we had a chawanmushi. While most may dismiss the chawanmushi as nothing more than just pedestrian steamed egg, this chawanmushi was not to be sniffed at. A layer of broth tops the softer-than-foie-gras chawanmushi, which made us launch into one of those long exaggerated “oishii-nays” often seen on Japan Hour.





Heat was soon introduced with tempura, gratin, kamameshi and miso soup. The tempura was pleasantly marked with a light crisp batter. The baked crab and cheese jutted out from the rest of the courses with its rich creaminess. Cooked in an iron pot, the crab kamameshi was another simple but well-executed dish.



We were weaned off our crab fiesta with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, drizzled with intense green tea for dessert. The juxtaposition of bitter and sweet served as a satisfying way to end our meal.

ENCORE!

Harijyu

I’m sure if the Japanese re-wrote George Orwell’s Animal Farm, Napoleon and Squealer would have added to their list of commandments (under “Four legs good, two legs bad”):

"No animal shall drink alcohol unless it's beer." or
“The more equal animals shall receive beer and massages on a daily basis”



Harijyu may be located at the mouth of Dotonburi, Namba but it was easy to miss. It specializes in sukiyaki and the presence of a in-house butcher was sign of good things to come. After we handed our shoes to a show steward (no worries about losing your Manolo Blahniks here, Carrie!), we were led upstairs into a private tatami room. The sukiyaki menu was simple as ABC, you could choose from 3 sets menus 6300, 8400 or 10500 Yen (per person).



That was probably the only thinking one had to do that evening as once the order was placed, a stewardess would progress with the setup and cooking. Without a need to exert any effort other than to receive, all I needed was some soothing music to feel like the cow I was about to enjoy.



Our kaiseki dinner kicked off with amuse bouche of Unidentified Tasty Objects. I relaxed, managed some small talk but kept my gaze fixated on our stewardess- could be because I had never seen anyone cook tofu and fatty beef in such a graceful manner. By swishing the beef slices gingerly in rich mirin broth for a few seconds, the fat-steaked patchy red beef turned ash grey, producing a denture-friendly texture that straddled between solid and liquid state.



What we had was Matsusaka beef. Arh yes, beer diet and massages, the cows lead a life that some humans visit Thailand especially for.





If we had to nudged the cow bell for every nod, shrug and sigh of satisfaction, there would definitely be a jamboree of jingles.

Depachika

If you have 2 hours to spare in Tokyo, head straight to a depachika. Short for "depaato-chika shokuhin uriba," which means department store basement food-selling place, Japan's food craze begins (but definitely doesn't end with) depachikas. The noteworthy depachikas in Tokyo include Isetan and Takashimaya department store in Shinjuku, as well as Matsuya Department Store in Ginza; in Osaka, Takashimaya department store.





"So where do I begin?" asked the pupil.

And the master replied, "Follow your GUT instincts..."





As if in search of a spiritual path, I weaved in and out of a labyrinth of temptations from Chinese stirfrys to microbiotic takeaways. The bevy of bentos ranged from no-nonsense classics to seasonal produce tucked snugly within the confines of their compartments. The tempura and yakitori varieties were unlike anything I had ever seen. Confectionary, dessert and pastries paraded in brightest vivid colours and frills. If you cannot find anything that gets your juju goin', you are done for.



Breathe. Just breathe. Wow, those breath control exercises in Yoga class finally came in handy.





Food aside (just for the time being), depachikas effectively capture a snapshot of Japan’s collective spirit towards “putting their best face forward.” The polite attentive service, detail-oriented presentation and obsession with gift-packing, this is a culture that doesn’t just stop at 90-100% of what they are capable of.



Faced with endless supply of food, one could either regard it as a test of willpower or gamely summon the spirit of Kobayashi. Don’t worry for whatever happens in Depachika, stays in Depachika.

Pierside Kitchen and Bar

Would you like to start with some warm bread while you wait for your friend?

Why yes, my good man.

Now hold it, what ever happened to good manners? But.. but that's a question I can't say no to, kind of like "Would you like to update your wardrobe with Bruuns Bazaar and Proenza Schouder?" or "Would you like to win $10 million dollars, so that you can chuck your corporate rat race plans and learn how to bake artisan bread in France?"

See I knew you would understand.



Anchored at One Fullerton and headed by a Chef Robin Ho, a Les Amis alumnus, Pierside Kitchen and Bar is Marmalade Group's answer to the corporate folks who like it chi-chi on the weekends but casual-chic during weekdays.

I had time to scrutinize both the set and ala carte menu and sussing out the MMM-I-LIKE-THE-SOUND-OF-THAT and ok-maybe-next-time. For starters, it was a tough choice between the lobster & sweet red pepper bisque with CRISPY SQUID and BUTTERNUT PUMPKIN royale with sauteed mushroom and black olive tuile.



Eventually, we bit the 'crispy squid' bait and opted for the lobster bisque. Partially submerged in bisque, the squid centerpiece could have been crispier but otherwise, the bisque charmed with a robust lobster aroma.



For mains, the chef pitted pan roasted japanese sea bass with quinoa tabouli & shaved fennel, lily bud vinaigrette against the CONFIT PORK BELLY with braised cabbage and steamed potatoes, dijon mustard and green pea emulsion.

My friend chose the Japanese sea bass. Personally, I would have gone for the confit pork belly but I was trying out this new thing called, Hold Thy Tongue Let Others Decide For A Change. The pan roasted sea bass was agreeably good but like most pan roasted fish, wasn't pandemonium material. I didn't like the citrus-spiked quinoa tabouli. Not. One. Bit.

From the ala carte menu, I dismissed the famed miso cod for something unusual, something out of the water. Two items stood out: snapper PIE, smoked tomato & white TRUFFLE oil and whole roast SPATCHOCK, PARMA ham & TRUFFLE mash.

Ahhh, Truffle Thursday.

It sounds more a racket game but the spatchock is actually a baby chicken (or other game bird) exclusively used for roasting and broiling over a grill/spit. Upon hearing the word 'chicken,' I went for the fish pie.



Lo and behold, snapper pie, served with smoked tomato & mashed potato. Piercing through the puff pastry, the aromatic white truffle oil wafted through, creating an air of anticipation. Just imagine: chunks of snapper simmered in truffle oil, cream and fish stock- it was sea-riously good. Needless to say, I loved my snapper's pie.

Incidentally after our orders were placed, the gentleman on the next table asked his waiter if he would recommend the roast snapper or snapper pie and the waiter replied (catching me off guard), "roast snapper". Well, after a nosy-neighbour peer-over, I think I scored a bigger catch. Haha.



For dessert, we could had a choice of either cheese platter OR souffle and genoise, served with Madagascar vanilla bean ice cream and raspberry coulis. Like duh, of course we went for the souffle, genoise & ice cream! Under the lemon souffle top, hot chocolate sauce trapped within soft spongy walls of the chocolate genoise, begged to be released and we happily obliged.



Awashed in natural sunlight and minimalist-chic decor, the restaurant was popular with corporate folks who met up for leisure, rather than business. Interestingly enough, most of the men seemed to display a fashionable proclivity towards graphpaper-print shirts. Oh well, whatever floats their boat...