The
last time we visited Katsu, we had a less-than-encouraging visit. And though it took us a little longer than we expected, we finally returned last Thursday evening, a mere four and a half years later. The important thing is that we returned.
We decided that perhaps the best way to experience what Katsu (the chef and his namesake restaurant both) could offer would be to place ourselves completely in his hands and have an omakase. Omakase at Katsu begins at $120 per person and, theoretically, the sky is the limit. (In doing a little research before writing this meal up, I re-read some of my posts from a number of years ago. One of the meals I mentioned referred to an omakase the Lovely Dining Companion and I had at the now-shuttered Matsuhisa in Los Angeles. At that time, in 2006, $120 was the most expensive omakase available there. That fact alone amazes me now. Had the date been 1986, perhaps, but $120 at Matsuhisa in 2006 absolutely astonishes me.) After some discussion, we decided to start at the "bottom" and so we chose the $120 omakase. We were told, among other things, that we needed to give them a minimum of two days' notice; since we made the reservation a few weeks in advance, that was not an issue. Given Katsu's investment in time and effort—not to mention money—we were a little surprised that they didn't even ask for a credit card number in the event of a last-minute cancellation.
We arrived early for a 6 pm reservation. It turned out to be a good thing we made an early reservation: we were there for close to three hours. That being said, although there was always a pause between courses, it was never lengthy and pacing was just right. It helped, of course, that Katsu's wife, Haruko, our hostess, made sure we were okay, visiting occasionally. She is a very sweet woman, both serious and funny at the same time. We enjoyed speaking with her, learning more about individual dishes or ingredients, and she was wonderful at making sure that we were comfortable and wanted for nothing. For a Thursday evening, the restaurant was steady--never quite busy but never too quiet either. We sat in the dining room (as opposed to in the sushi bar portion of the restaurant) and there were always at least three other tables with diners. For those who have never been to Katsu, that may not sound like many, but it's a nice number--there's always a steady undercurrent of conversation, never the disquieting hush of being nearly alone in a deserted restaurant nor packed in elbow-to-elbow.
We never inquired and were never told how many courses the meal would encompass and as the meal wound its way through the evening, we often wondered what—if anything—was on its way. In a way, I was surprised to discover that I preferred
not knowing. It heightened the sense of anticipation. Having had a very unhappy omakase at
Tojo's in Vancouver (and with our own less-than-happy experience at Katsu impossible to purge from our minds), we spent the first course or two being concerned about everything. We need not have been.
The evening began with a trio of small bowls featuring roughly chopped big-eye tuna (from Boston, our hostess proudly announced) in a miso vinaigrette, white asparagus with goma-ae "sauce" (that was more like a paste), and agedashi tofu with enoki mushrooms (and many individual enoki caps, all floating top-up in the broth). Each bowl was lovely in its own way: from the quality of the ingredients to the mouth-watering presentations and the melding of flavors, I'd be hard-pressed to choose a single one to prefer over the others. Each was a hit in its own way.
Unagi chawan mushiThe second course was unagi chawan mushi with shiitake, gingko, and kamaboko (and a mitsuba leaf). One of LDC's issues on our first visit was the chawan mushi. Gone was any objection or complaint. This was a steamed custard of delicacy and smoothness, the egg custard complemented by the varying textures of eel, kamaboko, and gingko nut (though, sadly, one gingko somehow escaped its fate and never made it to my bowl). The mitsuba leaf was new to me and, in addition to its lovely appearance was its subtle but distinctive clean, herbal flavor. I've seen it described variously as a Japanese parsley or even watercress, but I found that it had a taste of suggestive of citrus without being citrus-y, akin perhaps to vaguely sweet celery.
Tempura soft-shell crabCourse three arrived showcasing soft-shell crab tempura in ponzu sauce accompanied by avocado and crab wrapped in tofu skin and a tiny "clear water" crab. The soft-shell crab was delicious and provided a change of pace, particularly in texture, from what had preceded it. I wasn’t particularly taken with the avocado and crab “roll” but was intrigued by the tiny crab, no larger than a thumbnail. Upon our pursuing the topic with her, Haruko told us about gathering them as a child growing up in southern Japan, but only from the cleanest freshwater streams; her brother would bring home buckets of them! The crab is so small that there couldn’t be (nor was there) much more to it than crunch but there was just enough of the crab itself to bring flavor as well. I could imagine a bowl of them salted, sitting in a bar.
Salmon and sea scallopThe fourth course was stunningly presented in a golden bowl: two pieces of top-quality fish, salmon and sea scallop, sitting on a bed of vinegared cucumber and topped with salmon roe. I think it would be wiser to say little about this dish. It relied on the simple presentation of superb ingredients. Katsu chose not to do very much with the fish and, after notwithstanding a knockout presentation, the contents of the bowl lived up to its gleaming interior.
Duck breast marinated in saikyo misoDuck breast followed the sashimi. This course is part of the reason for advance notice requirement: Katsu marinated the duck overnight in saikyo miso. Saikyo miso is a sweet miso (different kinds and tastes of miso can be created by varying the ratio of rice to soybeans and the length of fermentation). Also among the items in Katsu's marinade, we were told, were orange and lemon peel. The next day, the duck is pan-fried to render some of the fat and finished in the oven. A stalk of pungent pickled ginger lies atop the duck and on the side, a sweetened chestnut, a decorative element that complemented the duck and brought out some of the sweetness of the marinade. I was disappointing to find the duck a bit overcooked and dry, though it still retained a lovely flavor and the presentation and overall impression were both quite attractive.
Wagyu beefBy this point, we were inclined to think we had to be at the end, save perhaps for a light dessert of some sort. We couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Course six arrived, shocking us into momentary silence: wagyu beef with ponzu sauce and a raspberry. The beef was, well, exactly what you might expect: grilled to an exact medium-rare, meltingly tender, and beefy. What's not to love? Well, actually, although the ponzu worked with it, I'm not sure that it's a combination that I would voluntarily choose—if given the choice. It worked, to be sure, but a trifle less beautifully than I would have hoped. The raspberry? Ah, the raspberry. I had it between slices and I will freely confess that I don't get it. Unless it was added solely and exclusively for the color—Lord knows it picked up on the rare beef perfectly—then I simply am confused. The flavor didn't go with the beef and it has little enough acid (especially given the presence of the ponzu) to cut the rich, unctuous umami of the wagyu. So, I'm left puzzled—but happily.
Sashimi course
Clam brothThe seventh and ultimate course: sashimi. Executed with Katsu's trademark overlarge slices, we each received a plate bursting with fish: saba (mackerel) with a strip of kombu, sea scallop, big-eye tuna, ama ebi (sweet shrimp), salmon, and hamachi (yellowtail). Just in case we might have any appetite remaining unfulfilled, a small bowl of small clams with a light broth. There’s really not too much to say about this course: the fish was surpassingly fresh, the execution and presentation impeccable. Either you like a given item or you don’t, but I’m hard pressed to find any flaw with this course unless it be the fact that I didn’t really have enough room in my belly to accommodate it readily. I’m less a fan than some on this board of the size of Katsu’s slices, but that’s another debate. As to preparation, presentation, and taste, I was mightily impressed.
Another server stopped after clearing the last plates away to ask if we wished to have dessert. I have no way of knowing whether it would have been included or not. Given our over-satiation, we both hastily declined the offer. We did receive, however, an artfully cut chunk of orange, the perfect note to close this great meal.
A couple of notes worth mentioning. LDC cannot eat much raw fish and so she and Mrs. Katsu discussed this issue when she made the reservation. Both compromised: there would have to be some, but it would be less than normal. In the event, we couldn't help but wondering how much more there could have been. Now I'm a fan and so had no issue--except for the vast amount of food. By the time of the generous sushi course, I was becoming concerned about whether I'd be able to finish. As noted above, Katsu's portions of sashimi are always extremely generously cut. While quality wasn't even remotely an issue, such large pieces can be too much of a good thing. Neither of us had a piece of fish all evening that was anything less than pristine. Though LDC's appetite might fairly be described as "smaller," mine would never be. So the nearly unspoken sense that one wants very much to finish everything that has been presented clashes with a very real concern about too much food.
As I wrote in my review of Tojo's, "Presentation is not only a key to Japanese food (and the Japanese esthetic generally), it's a hallmark of omakase." Katsu proved that attention to this kind of detail pays manifold benefits. First, the delivery of the food to the table. You are presented with a dish--no matter the ingredients, no matter the quality, yet--that can be immensely appealing (or not) based upon its physical presentation alone. The chef selects a vessel or container, he considers and selects the ingredients or components of the course and then the form (for example, whether to leave the mushroom whole, remove the cap, how or whether to slice it, and so on and so forth), and the choice of composition of those elements. Each choice is important, each interacts with every other choice and all are considerations that go into what you see before you can smell or taste anything or sometimes even before you know what is in front of you. We have all been delighted (or depressed) by dishes we've been served in restaurants, not just Japanese restaurants. Visual appeal has enormous power to set the stage and an omakase elevates presentation alone to an art.
Everything at Katsu was just so: lovely serving ware that was noteworthy for its attractiveness but not so stunning as to detract from the star of the show: the food. I can easily imagine dazzling plates or glittering bowls; but this meal is about the food and Katsu's omakase was just that. Katsu brought to my mind another omakase we had about five years ago—at the late-lamented Matsumoto. Presentation there was exceptional. Look again at the (distressingly poor) picture of the chawan mushi. Notice how the eel is incorporated into the mushroom "design" and appears to be the stem of the mushroom. Indeed, that ingredients are so beautifully trimmed and so carefully placed as to suggest themselves. Sadly, my photos from our meal at Matsumoto were mostly unusable. But to this day, I have some rather vivid memories of some of the presentations.
Finally, I need to reiterate what I hope I suggested above. Katsu's wife, Haruko, added that impossible-to-quantify, ineffable warmth that can elevate a "merely" very nice dinner into a truly wonderful evening. As we talked, asked questions, joked, and discussed Japan and the food, she became more comfortable, laughing more, and sharing stories with us. We would probably have enjoyed this dinner even with a stone-faced server, but her many kindnesses made it a meal to remember.
Needless to say, we had a great time. We entered with less-than-happy memories and a fair amount of trepidation; we left stuffed and elated. I am very happy to say that it won’t be four more years until we return. Indeed, we look forward to the change of seasons if only to see what Katsu creates.
Last edited by
Gypsy Boy on January 19th, 2014, 8:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
Gypsy Boy
"I am not a glutton--I am an explorer of food." (Erma Bombeck)