Duelling With The Sushi Chef

Let’s face it, it’s nearly impossible to fully understand how to eat sushi if you are not Japanese. Communication with the chef is the only way to appreciate sushi. That is why the gourmet insists on sitting at the counter to converse with the chefs, yet this is quite impossible if you don’t speak their language.

It also explains why The Michelin Guide have awarded so many stars to the Tokyo restaurants. Not because the judges know how to appreciate the food, but because more sushi chefs speak English.

“WOW, wow!” and “wow!” they cried after the chefs explained the origins of the food and the years taken to prepare them.

Having lived in Japan for eight years and continuing to travel there every year since, I learned a few tricks of how to duel with sushi chefs when you walk into a sushi shop for the first time.

The fate of the customer depends on the chef, for there are no prices on the menu. In fact, there are no menus at all. When you ask for the bill, the chef uses his sharp knife and makes a few strokes on the cutting board. There are no fixed sums. The price he quotes depends on his mood.

If he is happy, he makes light cuts, and when he is not, he cuts it like somebody who is killing his wife and the sum becomes astronomical.

Of course, you can say I have all the money in the world and don’t give a damn, but then you won’t get the best cut, or respect. We must treat the sushi shop like a battle ground and the chef like an opponent in a duel.

“Irashamasei!” the chef will yell at you the moment you enter. It sounds more like a challenge than a welcome. To counter this, you nod lightly and say, “Um” as if he doesn’t exist. Then you throw the first punch by ordering. “Sake!” you command.

“Atsukan desuka? Heiya desuka?” which means “Hot or Cold?” he fights back.

At this instance you must give him another heavy punch by answering, “Nurukan”. That means warmed or room temperature in Japanese. By the way, all the best sake should be consumed this way whether it is summer or winter.

The chef nods silently, sensing that you are not an easy opponent.

You mustn’t let him rest. Looking at the big piece of egg roll, you order, “Tsumami”, which means without rice.

If you forget this word you just point and say, “No rice.” Rice is rice in Japanese too. He will understand. There are only two ways to order sushi: Tsumami or Nigeri. The latter means with rice.

The reason for ordering egg rolls is to test the skill of the sushi master. Egg rolls are the most difficult to perfect.

It is done by beating eggs and frying them in a rectangular pan one layer after another.

In between layers some masters put cooked shrimps and others put eel. Sugar and salt may be added. Too sweet or too savoury will kill the taste. There can only be two reactions from your opponent. One is that he knows you know how to appreciate his food, but more likely he will be thinking, “Fuck you! Who are you to show off here?”

If you see your opponent is expressionless you must continue the fight by only biting one third of the egg roll and staying expressionless too. This way he doesn’t know whether you like it or not.

If you like the expensive Uni (the sea urchin) or Awabi (the abalone), your next move is to order Maguro (the lean part of a tuna), not Toro (the fatty part of a tuna). The real gourmet always appreciates this lean part of tuna. The Hon-Maguro tuna caught in the Japanese Sea is so sweet and full of favour that it is ten times tastier than the imported Maguro.

The unconvinced chef would think he has caught you out by giving you the imported Maguro. You chew a little, then you put it down and you order Gari (pickled ginger). Gari is a jargon between sushi masters and is often used to clear your palatte.

Now the chef knows what he is facing. At this precise moment you must throw out double punches by ordering Geso, which is the cooked tentacles of squid, Odori, which means dancing in Japanese, for describing live prawns, and Awabi no Wata, which is the intestine of abalone.

The chef has never thought this could be coming, While he has no time to defend himself, you make your kill by ordering Tamari, which is the soy sauce at the bottom of the jar, or Murasaki, which describes the purple colour, but never Shoyu which is the common name. You dip the raw fish in soy sauce and then add a little Wasabi (green mustard) on top before eating it. You must never, never mix Wasabi in your soy sauce because this will make it muddy.

You can mention casually that in the famous author Tanizaki Junichiro’s essay ‘In Praise of Shadows’, he writes about how beautiful dark materials are and that they should never be mixed.

At this point you buy the chef a bottle of their most expensive sake and finish the two thirds of the egg roll to show your appreciation. And finally, you call out, “O-iso”, the sushi term for the bill. The chef will bow to you with respect, and you walk out paying less.