Best. Meal. Ever.
Lost. And late. We meandered down a Tokyo alley in a light drizzle.
After asking a few strangers, a security guard ushered us to a pebbled entranceway, where a red and blue curtain marked the spot. We poked through, and found a locked sliding door and a small black doorbell.
After butchering our last name a few times, the hostess opened the door and led us upstairs to a 10-seat, 2-chef, minimalist room with light wood and sparse decor--as if Steve Jobs had designed the place himself.
We sat at the end of the room, with a single chef cooking only for us. The waitress pointed to a one-page menu with three options: Omakase, Omakase, or Omakase. We chose the middle version, which included a seasonal Hairy Crab from Hokkaido.
Glancing around the room, there were only three other patrons. On a Thursday night. That, and the unreal hype around sushi in Tokyo, set up a perfect storm of low expectations. And as always in life, happiness = reality divided by expectations.
My mistakenly low expectations, alongside an unimaginably delicious meal, combined to deliver a top 3 meal of my life.
It would take too many words, and fall too short, to accurately describe the the individual pieces of fish. Or the combinations of taste and temperature that made up the bites. But suffice it to say, I didn't know sushi (or food) could taste this good.
Shout out to Robbie and Kirsten for suggesting Sushi Ichi in the first place!
Photos below...
- Stephen