THE ART AND ETIQUETTE OF SUSHI
From the battera (box-shaped) to gunkari (battleship), there are sushis of all kinds in India now, but you have to understand its culture for the real experience,
This deep investigative thinking bleeds into everything else in his life...before he shares the name of his favourite sushi restaurant — prior to one dinner we had in New York he called five to find out which chef was cutting the fish that night — he discusses rice density and the ideal geometric shape for sushi cuts (trapezoids)”.
–From Steven Bertoni’s report on Napster-founder Sean Parker in Forbes Asia, October 2011
“Sushi is all about hygiene”, says one sushi chef, Satpal of Kylin, as he stretches a film of cling-wrap onto his work station, a weaved bamboo mat (maki) on a spotless counter.
“Sushi is all about the rice (shari)”, says another, Chef Tetshu Akahira of the Metropolitan Hotel, as he dabs sticky fingers in a bowl of vinegared water placed near him “to get rid of the gelatinous starch”. (All sushi chefs keep a bowl of vinegared water next to them, sometimes accentuated with lime juice. It is also essential to not transfer body heat to the fish, hence the handy coolness of the liquid)
A third — Vikram Khatri, Executive Chef at Ai, The love Hotel says, “Good sushi is all about the freshness of the fish.” (and the freshness of complementary ingredients too, of course), as he throws in a tip: “If the fish is fresh — that is, today’s stock — eat it raw. If it’s a day old, eat it pickled. On the third day, it needs to be grilled”.
They’re all correct. But the truth is sushi is about all that and more. It’s an experience. A more expensive one than say a dosa outing or an orgy of butter chicken and naan, but you need not be intimidated, not by the chopsticks, not by the raw fish, not by what a fool you might appear if you dip a whole rice ball in a saucer of soya and the damn thing falls apart.
There is an art to it — no biggie. But just as there is a way to prepare excellent nigiri (slice of raw fish/ another topping atop a mound of rice), there is a way to polish it off and pass off as a borderline connoisseur.
Sushi is anything with vinegared rice (shari). More definitively, a Japanese dish that consists of small balls of cold rice marinated with vinegar and served with a garnish of raw fish, vegetables, or egg. And the misconception that sushi is solely for carnivores is best put to sleep by the fact that cucumber rolls (kappa maki) are a classic. Carrots, radish, avocado, asparagus and shiitake mushrooms are a great supporting cast.
Of the key players, a crisp dark green wrapper — looks almost black — called a nori sheet and made of dried seaweed is quite the star. This exquisite, glistening all-protein square wrapper is essential to turn the shari into thin rolls (hosomaki) or thick ones (futomaki) that then get cut (with a special sushi knife — more on that later) into six pieces. (Some contemporary places even divide them into eight).
But while Sean Parker believes in the virtues of sushi shaped like trapezoid, Indian chefs, at five stars and standalones, don’t do trapezoids. They do battera (box-shaped), they do gunkan (battleship sushi), and more common still, they do temaki (hand-rolled conical sushi, asparagus peeping out and all) and chirashi — scattered sushi. As it turns out, just no android or trapezoid.
The usual condiments with sushi are: wasabi (shortened to sabi, this pungent pista shade algae is a paste that counters any ill effects of raw fish), pickled ginger (gari; often pink, not always) and soya sauce. How you go about merging flavours is important. Pour from the tiny teapot of soya often kept at the table beside the toothpick holder, a teaspoon or about 10ml of soya into the also tiny saucer.
Now, you don’t have to dab the wasabi on the sushi; the chef would already have basted the inside of the roll with the stuff. But given, broadly, the Indian palate and our tendency to douse our chicken broth in soya even before the first bite, go ahead. Be careful though: fish, not rice needs a dab of wasabi. Don’t douse. Same with soya. Dunk, but only the top and slightly. You don’t want the rice swelling and disintegrating because of the excess soya absorbed, and be left with only the sharpness of salt on your tongue.
It’s perfectly acceptable to not use chopsticks. But if you’re seated at a table and picking from the community platter, when helping yourself, reverse chopstick sides. It’s the Japanese way. It’s what Indian sushi chefs with years of experience have witnessed and will endorse. When you’re done eating, the chopsticks are placed where a spoon goes, horizontally, and parallel to you. Remember, sushi is popped straight. No taking delicate bites. Japanese cuisine has that in common with street food of the golgappa/ pani puri kind.
A bit on the sushi knife. Unlike the v-shaped knife in the cutlery stand at home, sushi chefs wield those made of high carbon steel with a blade only on one side. Naturally then, that’s the only side to be really sharpened (100:30 is a good ration with hundred for the blade side).
Next time you head for a Japanese meal, feel no shame in asking to see the knife. Ask also to meet the Itamae (the chef), leave it to him to pick your meal, all the better to be off the menu, and go stand at the sushi counter to watch him assemble what is essentially motion art.
From the battera (box-shaped) to gunkari (battleship), there are sushis of all kinds in India now, but you have to understand its culture for the real experience,
This deep investigative thinking bleeds into everything else in his life...before he shares the name of his favourite sushi restaurant — prior to one dinner we had in New York he called five to find out which chef was cutting the fish that night — he discusses rice density and the ideal geometric shape for sushi cuts (trapezoids)”.
–From Steven Bertoni’s report on Napster-founder Sean Parker in Forbes Asia, October 2011
“Sushi is all about hygiene”, says one sushi chef, Satpal of Kylin, as he stretches a film of cling-wrap onto his work station, a weaved bamboo mat (maki) on a spotless counter.
“Sushi is all about the rice (shari)”, says another, Chef Tetshu Akahira of the Metropolitan Hotel, as he dabs sticky fingers in a bowl of vinegared water placed near him “to get rid of the gelatinous starch”. (All sushi chefs keep a bowl of vinegared water next to them, sometimes accentuated with lime juice. It is also essential to not transfer body heat to the fish, hence the handy coolness of the liquid)
A third — Vikram Khatri, Executive Chef at Ai, The love Hotel says, “Good sushi is all about the freshness of the fish.” (and the freshness of complementary ingredients too, of course), as he throws in a tip: “If the fish is fresh — that is, today’s stock — eat it raw. If it’s a day old, eat it pickled. On the third day, it needs to be grilled”.
They’re all correct. But the truth is sushi is about all that and more. It’s an experience. A more expensive one than say a dosa outing or an orgy of butter chicken and naan, but you need not be intimidated, not by the chopsticks, not by the raw fish, not by what a fool you might appear if you dip a whole rice ball in a saucer of soya and the damn thing falls apart.
There is an art to it — no biggie. But just as there is a way to prepare excellent nigiri (slice of raw fish/ another topping atop a mound of rice), there is a way to polish it off and pass off as a borderline connoisseur.
Sushi is anything with vinegared rice (shari). More definitively, a Japanese dish that consists of small balls of cold rice marinated with vinegar and served with a garnish of raw fish, vegetables, or egg. And the misconception that sushi is solely for carnivores is best put to sleep by the fact that cucumber rolls (kappa maki) are a classic. Carrots, radish, avocado, asparagus and shiitake mushrooms are a great supporting cast.
Of the key players, a crisp dark green wrapper — looks almost black — called a nori sheet and made of dried seaweed is quite the star. This exquisite, glistening all-protein square wrapper is essential to turn the shari into thin rolls (hosomaki) or thick ones (futomaki) that then get cut (with a special sushi knife — more on that later) into six pieces. (Some contemporary places even divide them into eight).
But while Sean Parker believes in the virtues of sushi shaped like trapezoid, Indian chefs, at five stars and standalones, don’t do trapezoids. They do battera (box-shaped), they do gunkan (battleship sushi), and more common still, they do temaki (hand-rolled conical sushi, asparagus peeping out and all) and chirashi — scattered sushi. As it turns out, just no android or trapezoid.
The usual condiments with sushi are: wasabi (shortened to sabi, this pungent pista shade algae is a paste that counters any ill effects of raw fish), pickled ginger (gari; often pink, not always) and soya sauce. How you go about merging flavours is important. Pour from the tiny teapot of soya often kept at the table beside the toothpick holder, a teaspoon or about 10ml of soya into the also tiny saucer.
Now, you don’t have to dab the wasabi on the sushi; the chef would already have basted the inside of the roll with the stuff. But given, broadly, the Indian palate and our tendency to douse our chicken broth in soya even before the first bite, go ahead. Be careful though: fish, not rice needs a dab of wasabi. Don’t douse. Same with soya. Dunk, but only the top and slightly. You don’t want the rice swelling and disintegrating because of the excess soya absorbed, and be left with only the sharpness of salt on your tongue.
It’s perfectly acceptable to not use chopsticks. But if you’re seated at a table and picking from the community platter, when helping yourself, reverse chopstick sides. It’s the Japanese way. It’s what Indian sushi chefs with years of experience have witnessed and will endorse. When you’re done eating, the chopsticks are placed where a spoon goes, horizontally, and parallel to you. Remember, sushi is popped straight. No taking delicate bites. Japanese cuisine has that in common with street food of the golgappa/ pani puri kind.
A bit on the sushi knife. Unlike the v-shaped knife in the cutlery stand at home, sushi chefs wield those made of high carbon steel with a blade only on one side. Naturally then, that’s the only side to be really sharpened (100:30 is a good ration with hundred for the blade side).
Next time you head for a Japanese meal, feel no shame in asking to see the knife. Ask also to meet the Itamae (the chef), leave it to him to pick your meal, all the better to be off the menu, and go stand at the sushi counter to watch him assemble what is essentially motion art.
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