Sushi & Chocolate

Not the restaurant we ate at, but who can pass up a bunch of fish hanging on a clothesline?

I have yet to find the upper limits of my love for sushi. Yesterday a colleague and I made plans to head out for dinner. She suggested an Indian place she knew, I suggested an Indian place I knew, and then we decided that sushi would be the best option. And where better to go out for sushi in Tokyo than around Tsukiji fish market?

One bus ride and one train ride later, we were there. The fish market of all fish markets. Of course, because it was evening, most of the stalls were closed and the streets were darkish. However, there were several sushi restaurants beckoning us to come in, sit down, and feast. We walked up and down the streets peering in windows and discussing how we should make our decision. Our first point of consensus was that the place should be busy. We didn’t want to go anywhere the chef and staff were just standing around while the fish sat forlornly. We also decided that we didn’t want kaiten sushi (conveyor belt sushi) because we wanted the satisfaction that comes with eating out like normal people in a restaurant and using our Japanese. We strolled along, scoping out our options and decided on Shushizanmai, a brightly lit place with occupied tables and a fairly full counter. (In truth, we followed the couple who was walking ahead of us.)

A shrine near Tsukiji market.

After looking over the menu we ordered the chef’s special tuna plate (this came with aburi toro, negi toro, maguro, tuna roll, and two other kinds of toro), tamago, salmon, shrimp, something with onions, and some miso soup. Oh My. The chef’s special tuna plate was spectacular. The aburi toro (seared fatty tuna belly) melted on my tongue. The other types of toro similarly seemingly disappeared once placed into my mouth. I’ve never had an experience quite like it. The whole thing was wonderful. There was two of everything so we shared it all. It was fresh, it was delicious, it was the perfect amount.

After paying and leaving, we weren’t quite ready to head homeward. We were feeling quite satisfied with the amount of fish we ate. We weren’t too full but there was very definitely still room for dessert. Considering what part of the city we were in, she suggested a place called The Oregon Bar, an upscale restaurant on a 43rd floor overlooking Ginza and the Tokyo station area. I readily agreed and off we went. Once we arrived at the restaurant and were seated, the dessert cart was wheeled over. Feeling a bit spunky, I decided that indeed we would order two desserts: the berry shortcake and the chocolate bag.

As we were waiting for our choices to be served, we did what any one else would have done and we admired the view. We were well above other buildings and had a great view of the sparkling upscale shopping mecca that is Ginza. I am easily enthralled by neon lights and was happy to sit and admire the signs for American Express, the Apple Store, something that was rainbow colored, and the general cacaphony of light that is peculiar to Japanese cities. Then the desserts came.

Again, Oh My. The chocolate bag was, simply put, dazzling. It was a bag made out of semi-sweet chocolate with hazelnut cream, almond slivers, and berries inside. Absolutely phenomenal. The chocolate was rich and creamy but not too sweet. The hazelnut cream was light and airy. And the berries…well, let’s just say I flouted my usual avoidance of chocolate and fruit combinations. Halfway through devouring the chocolate bag, I made us stop and start on the shortcake for fear we would finish the bag and not have any room left for shortcake. Sigh. I need not have worried. Real shortcake with real vanilla bean ice cream surrounded by a sea of warm raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries. We ate every last bite of both desserts. I’m not sure which was more impressive, the view from 43 floors up or the desserts.

With bellies stretched taut, we decided to walk over to Tokyo station to ease the guilt from our blatant over-indulgence. The walk itself was roughly a half-hour and we then jumped the next train back to our neck of the woods.

It snowed last weekend and these are the leftover sentries.