Sushi and Philosophy, True Art

SUSHI GINZA ODORENA Address 461 5th Ave New York 10017 Give a man a fish and feed him all day; teach a man to fish and feed him all his life. Such a pearl of wisdom! But there is little evidence that fish should be served here, especially when it happens at the newly created Ginza Onodera sushi restaurant, awarded two Michelin stars. After decades of New Yorkers' disdain for sushi, this versatile Little Tokyo restaurant is changing that scenario, and its revenge is nigiri, which is better served cold and seasoned (from Ginza to edomaezushi). Oceans wash the shores in the hope of reclaiming this fish. Ginza's seasonal omakase is not just a freshly prepared dish from Tokyo's prestigious Tsukiji market, and it does not depend on exotic varieties. Ginza, which debuted here last year, offers epic, breathtaking craftsmanship that made our interlocutor, who lives in Japan four months a year and dines in several of its best restaurants, close his eyes after tasting a week-old golden aiz snapper and say, “Shut up. Give me a second. Let me enjoy this moment.” Ginza serves fish the way a diamond serves carbon: with impressive perfection, filled with luxury. It's the fish that traps us. A roasted barracuda with barely noticeable charring fills the mouth with smoke and envelops the umami tongue. The liver of the sea devil, cooked over low heat in wine for two days, goes well with other dishes, resembling crispy foie gras. Bonito, which is usually served in the form of a sharp slice, here is a bright red supreme with the addition of soy from katsuo, a fish roll "Tootsie Roll" in the center of the dish. Fatty tuna is so marbled that it can be mistaken for carpaccio. To preserve the natural brine, uni from Hokkaido comes in sealed bags with seawater (which might as well be "tears of joy"). All this is led by chef Masaki Saito, who wields his knives in sacred silence in this sushi temple. At one point during a recent visit, he grimaced and sucked on his index finger after slicing ginger. The stunned visitors held their breath until he showed an intact finger and calmly declared, “I'm a professional.” In Ginza, understatement is an exquisite art form.