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| Hey, everybody. Hate to bring things to an abrupt close, but I've pretty much done what I wanted to do with Xanga, and am reining in my narcissitic egoism (and pen-related diatribes  ) and bringing this blog to a close. [I'm leaving Sushi w/Singer around, since Singer just linked to it which means a few folk will come calling.]
The main reason for the disappearing blog is simply that Xanga's interface is, well, not the best-designed authoring tool (I signed up for the reviews feature, but it's a pain to use), and I don't like building and filling a database that I can't access/delete/copy; or whose output I can't select, sort, filter, and format. If I want to copy my postings, it'll take a month or so--time I don't have with my hands.
So, until I can build a MovableType of my own, ciao, darlings. It's been great fun. And thanks, Xanga, for the use of the hall. | | |
| Sushi Entry Corrections
Ah..
Singer informs me that "The trip about the yuzu, btw, is not rarity -- though it is somewhat uncommon, it's a regular trad flavoring for certain things in Japan. (Yokan, for example.) What got me was the fact that it was orange, and the size & shape of a tangerine: all of the yuzu fruits I've ever seen were much smaller, round, and lemon yellow..."
And I'm sorta remembering that the thing I thought wasn't mackeral was Spanish mackeral. So, I was both right and wrong, not something that happens often.
Oh, and the fried plate also had some kind of strips of fish skin wrapped around skewers and broiled: fish bacon! Although, gotta admit, half the fun was watching Ota show one of the other chefs how to wrap the skewer properly. | | |
| Duck Sushi
I did Sushi with Singer Sunday night.
"Oh. My. God." was pretty much the refrain between food-orgasms.
We went to Sushi Ota in Pacific Beach. It took us a few days to decide to go because after 30-40 years of eating sushi, Jon is very picky. And he only wanted to go if Ota himself was working the bar, and we could sit in front of him. It was raining Sunday, so Sunday night apparently we could get in at 9:30pm and sit in front of Ota, and we leaped at the chance.
Jon pushed me out the door early, and I realized why afterwards: the chef is happier if the chairs aren't empty, and showing up to fill seats ASAP makes everybody more cheerful. We got seated in front of Ota at 9:10, and we watched him create a plate for the guys sitting next to us, which was elaborate. And then, he wiped his hands, picked up a laminated sushi menu, propped it up in front of us, and held out a hand, asking us to order.
And Jon looked him in the eye, and held out a hand, silently saying, "We trust you, Ota-san, to have forgotten more about fish than we could ever possibly learn." And Ota-san blinked, and began work on an elaborate plate that was half sushi, half sashimi, and altogether wonderful.
If I can remember correctly, there were two kinds of sushi, both white fishes, both very delicate and clean, both coarsely chopped, and wrapped: one in cucumber, one in fish. There was a little cup made of a lemon rind, in which he heaped a small clear pile of raw lobster tail chunks. The flavors deepened with a roll of something a little stronger, not mackeral, but grey-skinned, again a mix of things, topped with a little ginger and the red peppery stuff. Then, a ginormous slice of salmon as rich and tender as butter. And a slice of half-belly tuna richly marbled. And then the uni (sea urchin).
Light to rich, clean to layered, a classical array of the typical stuff with a few exotics thrown in. And a fish (post filleting) arranged on a skewer to look like it's leaping as our garnish.
Jon and I fell to, went nuts, and Ota took away our fish garnish and sent it to the kitchens and started on the second appetizer plate.
He pulled over a chafing dish and a butane torch, and took two more slices of the half-belly tuna, lighly seared them and did magic. Then he took two slices of something else, seared it and did magic. He kept looking at the kitchen door. Someone came out of the kitchen and handed him fried things on a platter, and we saw what had become of our garnish: fried and crispy and tender enough to eat the bones. And the spines of another fish fried the same way. And a roll that was mountain potato wrapped in fish, wrapped in seaweed, battered and fried. Cool and smooth in the center, and crunchy and hot on the outside. Crunch crunch crunch, rich, warm, and a small pile of salt for dipping.
The mystery slice turned out to be the finisher: duck. With szechuan flower pepper (I think that's how Jon identified it). Omigod.
My memory blurs after this from the repeated fish-bliss shocks. I know we got a beautiful, light miso-flavored soup with clams in it. That we got a slice of ankimo wrapped in a rich white fish, lightly broiled with a slice of deep-fried lotus root on top that was a revelation. (Cutting the richness of the ankimo [pickled monkfish liver. Essentially sushi paté] with the bitterness of the lotus root was something completely unexpected and beautiful). And also red snapper skin which was indescribably ephemeral and delicate--like catching ocean fog on your tongue.
Each creation that came out was better than the one before. And we ended with a sushi dessert of ume paste and mountain potato wrapped up as a handroll. Perfect palate scrubber.
Then, I got plum wine ice cream (sweet, flowery, heady), and Jon had to refuse, because he can't do dairy (or wheat). And Ota asked him why he wasn't having the ice cream, thought a little, and then pulled out some candied citrus peel. And Jon went absolutely nuts. It turned out it was a very rare variety of Japanese citrus: a yuzu orange. Jon grows one, but not nearly this size or color, and Ota said it was from Japan. And I saw the maniacal light in Jon's eyes, and I knew what was coming next, and sure enough, raw unbridled greed [from Jon's POV, sheer enthusiasm from mine] had him begging Ota for the seeds. And Ota graciously gave them: he cut open the orange and gave the section to Jon, greatly depleting the life of what was left in terms of cooking usability.
We were also grossly undercharged, which we countered with a monster tip, and all of us were smiling, happy, and very pleased with each other at the end of the evening. I felt like Ruth Reichl after eating Danny Kaye's lemon pasta.
Doing sushi with Singer is usually pretty magical.
As a sidenote, I also found out that my favorite dessert place has all the class I always assumed they did. Jon can't do wheat OR dairy, so bringing him to a dessert place was problematic at best, but I mentioned their tea selection, and he agreed to give it a try.
And we found him a dessert. Magically, they had a standby vegan scone--made with rice flour. And it was rich as a scone ought to be. We never figured out what they'd done, and we didn't care. We just blessed the miracle of its existence. And I went and drowned in rich, dark chocolate.
I'd tell you about the Vietnamese food forays (soy sauce has wheat. Vietnamese food uses fish sauce, instead), and the Chinese food forays, and the Asian grocery shopping, or what-it's-like-chasing-after-Singer-at-the-Wild-Animal-Park's Native Plant garden even though your knees are blown and finding a plant that smells like sesame-seed-breadsticks, but, well, I'm pretty sure you've gotten a sense of what hanging with Singer is like.
Except for the pottery. But you can look at that at his website. | | |
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