Thank God for Fridays during Lent. Forced to abstain from meat got us thinking about what fishy dishes we'd try each Friday of Lent. We'd come up with some pretty good ideas, between Popeye's shrimp basket to Mario's Peruvian ceviche and grilled fish. This last Friday, I was craving sushi.
The truth is, my friends and I used to make a college tradition out of going to have sushi on Fridays during Lent. It was a great tradition, a chance to explore a new type of food, and semi-opportunistic, given that Little Tokyo is so close to USC. I was HOOKED.
With a surprising growth curve, I started savoring raw fish with almost as much zeal as raw meat (I always order steaks and hamburgers the rarest they'll let it get out the door without the Health police tackling them to the ground). There was something about the textures, the richness, and the subtly fishy flavor that made it... deliciously quirky. Like cheeses, I liked my sushi with a slight bit of stinkiness, funk and scents and flavors that reminded you that at some point, this was "game" food. Raw, wild, and fresh from the outdoors.
What I found in my sushi journey was subtle to the point of bland. To be honest, I like salmon nigiri a little more than tuna or yellowtail nigiri if simply because I could taste something. Most cuts of sushi just weren't fresh enough to give that zingy, fishy FRESHNESS.
...Until Nozawa.
Sushi Nozawa is hidden away in the corner of a strip mall, two doors down from a nail salon and hiding behind a parking lot with about 10 spots total. Walk inside and it looks almost like a retrofitted greasy spoon--torn seats from Asian restaurant chairs and tables sparsely decorated, with kitschy decorations that all declare one central message: "Trust Me." But what it lacks in ambiance, it MORE than makes up in flavors. The menu? Whatever the chef wanted to serve you. Seriously. You sit yourself at the bar and you take what the sushi nazi serves you. And according to Zagat, ask for a California roll and you might get kicked out.
The chef served us:- Chopped ahi
- Yellowtail nigiri
- Crab hand roll
- Halibut nigiri
- Toro hand roll
- Black cod nigiri
- Lobster hand roll
- Oysters
The fish itself was outstanding. Good flavors, perfect amount of fishy smells and flavors, and perfect texture. Even the cuts were consistent, down to the angle at which the slices were cut. The striations were exactly the same width. The texture was delicate and yet firm. The cuts overhung the rice--every single piece looked and tasted like the fish was the focus, not just an afterthought on the rice, cut small enough to save money. These were generous cuts, amazing flavors. No soy sauce needed.
I loved that the chef had the flavors down to a tee. He interspersed yuzu, ponzu and other sauces in moderation, careful not to let any single flavor overwhelm any type of fish. If the fish was stronger flavored, the sauces were delicate, and if the fish was delicate, the sauces were even more delicate. Even the nori was high quality nori--thicker, slightly funkier-ocean smelling, and simply better quality. I didn't even know there was any such thing as a better quality nori until I had the hand rolls. It truly made the hand roll taste better, accentuating the flavors of the sea and delicately playing a salty-sweetness to the delicate zest of the fish.
Our favorite part was the personal touch, or almost lack thereof. The chef, Chef Nozawa, is known as the Sushi Nazi, and he lives up to his name. He hardly smiled at all, with our compliments greeted only by a grunt in our general direction. He didn't take any of the sake we offered him and he barked orders to the Mexican sushi chef next to him (who kept good pace and prepared just as well as he did!) and the Mexican server, who learned to speak to him in Japanese. Occasionally, he'd show a sign of empathy and barked orders in Spanish: "[Order.] Dos."
And then came the miracle. After we drank a whole bottle of sake and ate more sushi than we thought we could consume, the chef asked if we were done. Hardly ones to admit defeat in the face of orgasmic food, we croaked past our bloatedness and said, "One more." The nazi, who had previously reserved all words for the servers and assistants, spoke those rare words that dared to show a hint of (dare I say it?) RESPECT: "Your choice." Shocked, I turned to all the decorations on the wall and said, "No, but we trust you!" ...No response. Not even a smile. (My goodness, he IS a nazi. Quick, order something before he kicks you out.) D did the proverbial bow back to our chef and asked what he recommended. After naming a few options, we opted for oyster.
At first, I was disappointed at the choice, scared that it would be a single cooked dish in my delirium of raw ecstasy. It wasn't until I fished out one of the two pieces of oyster from the little cup of sauces and put it past my lips that I realized--the oyster is RAW. This oyster was easily 2-3" large, and had the flavors and texture of a Kumamoto oyster. In the meat world, this is the equivalent of a wagyu steak the size of your head, served rare. This oyster was easily the best oyster I have ever had in my life, and I've had oysters freshly caught from the California north shores only a few hours old. Tender, almost al dente, and wildly flavorful without being sour. It was perfectly sweet, with several different textures that played with your tongue and reminded you that you were eating a complex organism that God himself created. Slightly firmer, then softer, then thicker, then soft again, it plays, like a choir singing hallelujahs. Delicious.In short, while the price tag was high for a single dinner, when split by two and calculating the fact that we tossed in a damn good bottle of sake, it was a STEAL for the quality of the meal. This was easily the best sushi we'd ever had, followed by the best oyster we'd ever had, and on retrospect, it was refreshingly relaxing not to have to worry about deciding what we would like next--we simply liked everything that was handed to us. There's something about being able to place your life in someone's hands that's such a comfort, and to me--being able to place my stomach in someone's hands is almost just as much of a relief. Chef Nozawa took good care of it. Despite being, well, an unsmiling, uncompromising nazi.
Sushi Nozawa
11288 Ventura Blvd Suite C, Studio City, CA 91604 - (818) 508.7017
http://www.sushinozawa.com/
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