MORI SUSHI LOS ANGELES FULL

I know itвЂ™s going to be expensive, usually about $100 a person, depending on how much you eat or whatвЂ™s on offer. And let him choose the rest.Д«ut most of the time IвЂ™ll ask for omakase, or chefвЂ™s choice. And then some toro, Spanish mackerel, squid, maybe some uni, or sea urchin. Or IвЂ™ll just tell the waiter IвЂ™d like a plate of sashimi that includes some buri, if itвЂ™s available. Sometimes I order sashimi and some sushi, checking off what I want from a conventional sushi menu. And when sushi is this good, itвЂ™s hard to resist ordering more and more. The best and freshest fish can never be inexpensive. Just because the decor is simple doesnвЂ™t mean the place has anything in common with inexpensive strip mall sushi joints. The servers are unfailingly courteous and more than that, actually helpful, announcing the dishes with the skill of a waiter at Patina or Spago - even going so far as to consult a dictionary or the chef, for the exact translation of an unfamiliar fish or ingredient.

Unlike the peripatetic Matsuhisa, Mori-san is always there behind the counter, ready with a smile, but with none of the hyperactive shouting some sushi chefs are prone to exhibit. Look for the outline of a fish and a rectangle of yuzu-green glass stuck high on a pole at the southwest corner of Pico Boulevard and Gateway.

Well, not entirely, it just doesnвЂ™t have the name. He even goes so far as to dispense with a sign outside. Individuals in the crowd are identifiable only as sushi lovers quietly enjoying Mori-sanвЂ™s work or friends meeting for a quick bite. Onodera doesnвЂ™t cultivate any kind of a scene. Ken Tanaka designed it with plywood floors and tables and a flotilla of round white paper lanterns bobbing overhead.

MORI SUSHI LOS ANGELES FULL

And in the three years since it opened, his restaurant has gone from very good to one of the best in a city full of good sushi restaurants. I remember him at Matsuhisa, shouting out a greeting, playing up to the famous faces and the flocks of AMWs (actress-model-whatevers).Д«ut at Sushi Mori, he follows his own muse, not NobuвЂ™s. In Los Angeles you can trace the history of sushi back to Katsu on Hillhurst, the seminal sushi restaurant that captured everyoneвЂ™s attention in the late вЂ80s, and to Matsuhisa, Nobu MatsuhisaвЂ™s first modest but not modestly priced Beverly Hills restaurant. (I remember another soup, another season, when the broth tasted of precious matsutake mushrooms.) The shrimp ball is as delicate in flavor as the finest quenelle. Inside is a clear broth with a marvelous smoky taste and a single shrimp ball tucked into a hollowed-out daikon. A porcelain thimble holds glistening coral salmon eggs, and the slender spine of a sea eel is tied into a knot and fried to a noisy crunch.ДЄ lidded lacquered bowl decorated with plum blossoms is set before us. The mosaic of flavors includes sticks of salted gingko nuts and a dainty roll of pickled daikon with fine threads of raw carrot and burdock. Next comes a handmade ceramic bowl with latticework sides holding a few intriguing bites, the equivalent of a western chefвЂ™s amuse-gueule. It begins with three slabs of steamed abalone, their mild sea-salt taste sparked by a zingy dab of yuzu (a Japanese citrus) and green chile paste that brings our palates to full attention. WeвЂ™d asked Mori-san for an omakase menu, his choice of whatвЂ™s best that night.

That plate of sushi actually comes halfway through our meal. As a result, his rice has a personality all its own. Using a special machine, he polishes only as much as heвЂ™ll need for that dayвЂ™s sushi. This sushi master cares so much about the product, he buys his rice unhulled to retain its moisture and flavor for as long as possible.

Each grain is distinct and perfectly seasoned. Sushi chef Morihiro Onodera has slipped a touch of freshly grated wasabi between each slice of fish and the rice beneath. ItвЂ™s evident even before you taste it - in the pearlescent pink and white gleam of halibut fin, cross-hatched with the knife in the subtle marbling of wild yellowtail belly, my new sushi passion in the silvery blue pinstripe running down a sliver of half beak, or Japanese silver fish and in the alabaster translucence of Japanese squid. And in a sense he hasnвЂ™t, not this kind of quality. My architect friend is looking at the fish as if he has never seen sushi before. The composition is as flawless as an Agnes Martin painting. On it are four rows of nigiri-zushi, four pieces each, one for each of us. At the unprepossessing Mori Sushi in West Los Angeles, the waiter sets down a broad oval plate stippled in the browns and golds of autumn leaves, its texture rough as burlap.

Mori sushi los angeles