May. 07, 2008 - Issue #655: Trash Talk
Yokozuna
Chopstick skills leads to better sushi enjoyment
Sometime in the last few weeks, while fantasizing about awakening the fireworks in some imaginary girl’s eyes, I remembered there was a sushi restaurant near the University that I’d never been to: Yokozuna. I’d walked past it many, many times without really giving much thought to its bold, capital red letters. The location was perfect. I decided to check it out.
My friend and I entered a small restaurant with about half a dozen small tables and comfortable wooden chairs. Along the walls, there were a few sectioned off rooms with the traditional seats built into the floor. White canvas sheets hung from the ceiling in a few places, featuring paintings that looked hastily authentic. The restaurant was quiet and welcoming. We were greeted by a friendly woman with a smile and a genuine Japanese accent.
Ushered to our table, we began to scour the menus. Unfortunately, there were no pictures. This was a problem for us because we weren’t certain what most things were, but we were still trying to pretend we were aficionados. We resorted to hushed whispers, trying to decide what to order. There was only one other group in the restaurant, but we couldn’t let them know that we’d temporarily forgotten what “sashimi” meant. After a little banter, my friend decided to let me order for the both of us, and I picked out a few things that looked interesting.
The first thing to arrive was our order of salmon sashimi.
“Oh, look,” I said. “Beef tataki!”
“No,” my friend corrected, “that’s the sashimi.”
No matter, it looked delicious and I was glad I’d ordered it. Turns out, sashimi is slices of raw fish. I had a feeling I would forget that again. The six thick, succulent slices of salmon before me were pleasingly fanned out, leaning against a bed of lettuce and onions. On the front two corners of the tray, wasabi and ginger were provided. The salmon glowed pink in the light.
It was smooth and tender in a way that people who refuse to try sushi will never understand. The way the juicy slices lolled in the soy sauce, soaking it up, was hypnotic. The way it gently slid down my throat, divine.
The next two dishes arrived in quick succession: a mango roll and the foreshadowed beef tataki.
The mango roll had sounded most intriguing. It contained salmon, mango, cream cheese, shrimp, and a few other fillers. The delivered dish looked like a standard roll of sushi with a sleek slice of orange wrapped over the top. When I tried my first piece, I was impressed, but slightly disappointed I couldn’t taste the mango. Four pieces later, the morsel crumbled between my chopsticks and I got to eat all of the ingredients separately. This confirmed that there was indeed a slice of mango in there. It was juicy and ripe.
The beef tataki wasn’t what I’d been expecting, but it was up to the standard the other dishes had created. The dish consisted of raw pieces of beef lying in a vinegary sauce, and it was topped with green onions and a red mixture reminiscent of salsa. It had been recommended to me by another friend, and I could understand why. It didn’t quite fit with my preconception of “sushi,” but that’s part of why I liked it.
During nearly every outing for Asian food, the discussion will at some point turn towards chopstick technique. My technique is practiced, and I was able to give my friend a couple small pointers. For example, I suggested that she hold them at an angle instead of plunging straight downwards. Ironically, it was immediately after I claimed competence that the mango sushi morsel crumbled between my wooden pincers.
C’est la vie.
For those who’ve never quite got the hang of chopsticks, I’d say they’re missing out. You are ostensibly putting the same food into your mouth, but it just feels so much more authentic with the Eastern utensils of choice. My advice is simply to persevere. You will eventually become proficient, even if your grip is a little unorthodox. I’ve gotten to a level where I can now handle fairly minor mechanics, such as picking up a piece of pink ginger and laying it over top of my next bite. It took a bit of work, but it was well worth the effort.
After we polished off the mango roll and beef tataki, I still couldn’t tell if I was full. Some food settles into your guts and turns to cement, but sushi leaves you feeling light and fresh. It makes me think that it’s probably healthy, but I have no real basis for that.
Since we thought we were still hungry, we ordered another order of sashimi. This time, we ordered the tuna. The six slices were fanned in the same pleasing way they had been with the salmon, but this time they were white instead of pink. And they were even more tender, melting in our mouths.
Heading home, I realized I’d tricked myself. I had indeed been full before the final round of tuna, but I didn’t regret ordering it. I was satiated. And then I started to become drowsy. It may have been all the food, or it may have been the tea, but it was certainly a potent force. I lay my head on my pillow and let my mind wander off. Dreaming of culturally inclined girls and fireworks, I smiled. V
Mon - Fri (11:30 am - 2 pm & 5 pm - 9 pm)
Yokozuna
8409 - 112 St, 430.3673
More info about Yokozuna →
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