I started with a pretty amazing offering of Brussels Sprouts served with mint and yuzu. I don’t miss the fact that SPQR isn’t serving Brussels Sprouts any more. These were incredibly fresh and the combination of mint and citrus awakens the palate and is comforting at the same time. I also ordered the sashimi sampler and couldn’t be happier; toro, sake, hamachi, and another.
Being adventurous, I of course ordered the “challenging” dishes; chicken hearts yakitori, beef heart served with onion and bonito flakes. The chicken hearts were perfectly grilled and so tender — which can frequently be ruined with over-grilling. The beef heart was served in chunks; rare and rich.
As I was finishing, because this was the soft opening, the kitchen sent out a few tastes for those of us sitting at the counter to taste; grilled black cod and the pork belly. The grilled black cod was intensely rich and complex with the pork belly providing that unctuous, fatty decadence.
Yes, it was a soft opening. The opening night is not for a few evenings but based on an early test, this will be a consistent favorite for me. Sozai was hard for me to get to and I will desperately miss Chef Nick at O Izakaya, but getting the best of both worlds is a stroke of brilliance. Bravo!
Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer
I have often lamented the lack of a true yakitori here in San Francisco. And truth be told, we only have two izakaya in the city; O Izakaya which is close to me in Japantown and Sozai, in the Inner Richmond. It took me a long time to get to Sozai because of its location. I’m sorry it took me so long to get there and I genuinely wish it were closer, despite some minor shortcomings which I’ll touch upon later.
But first, the sake. We each ordered a sampler, giving us six different tastes; Yuki no Bosha, Dassai Nigori, Tama no Hikari Yamahai, Take no Tsuyu, Urakasumi, and Tengumai. They were all distinct and enticing, but the Yuki no Bosha was the smoothest and easiest one to get in trouble with. In ordering a lot of food, we were grateful that the owner guided us through the menu on what to order.
We started with an assorted Sashimi platter as we were there the only night they serve sushi. The pieces were not cut perfectly, but the fish was fresh and good. Next came oysters and we loved the presentation; a bit of tobiko and a side of ponzu granita. This was delightfully innovative for the oysters, which were of great quality. A whole sample of yakitori came next; chicken gizzards, hearts, livers, thigh (negi-ma), and meatballs (tsukune). Not quite the quality of Shin Sen Gumi (my favorite in the state), but very respectable.
Our next offering was a slow cooked pork belly shichimi which was out of this world. So tender and rich and very, very satisfying. Lisa always has to try whatever uni is on the menu, so a single nigiri order arrived. Ankimo was next in the offering and I’m sorry to say this was not of great quality. It seemed a bit on the grainy side for my tastes. Some vegetables were recommended and the grilled Japanese eggplant were a pleasant surprise. Grilled to give a sugary, candied exterior, it did not hide the succulent eggplant creaminess inside.
Seeing how much we were enjoying the evening, the owner sent out a treat, the name of which I know not; squid brains in fermented squid gut sauce. The squid was tender enough, but the sauce was a bit too overpowering for me.
We finished up with dessert; a sweet-ish unfiltered sake (came in a frosty, pin, bottle) paired well with chocolate ginger cake and green tea tiramisu. Now I was reluctant on the tiramisu; making it with a green tea flavor seemed rather contrived but both Lisa and I were pleasantly surprised. It was not as kitschy as I thought it would be. The chocolate ginger cake, on the other hand, was superb; decadent hint of ginger in the redolent rich chocolate. Not too dry, not too sweet, and although garnished with a berry sauce, would have been better with simple whipped cream.
On the very minor downside to the restaurant, it is far from elegant. The tables are close together and the bizarre selection of 60s music in the background can occasionally glare a bit loud. But I don’t need elegant or appointed to enjoy good food and the service was exemplary. And the good news is that just a day or so before, Eater announced that the Sozai owners and the chef from O Izakaya are going to get together for a third venue in the Mission. Hoorah!
A decade ago, I used to live in Redondo Beach. And I return at least once a year – usually for business – and still dine with an old foodie friend who always keeps me apprised of new and interesting restaurants. There was some local buzz of a French/Japanese fusion restaurant on the pier, Maison Riz, which had only recently set up shop, complete with a very large, glowing sign. We called to make sure we could be seated and was told that if we arrived within 15 minutes, there would be room. When we arrived, we could see that more than ¾ of the restaurant was entirely empty.
There was some quandary about the menu as we wanted to try as many dishes as possible. The restaurant offered a six-course Riz Tasting menu which we ordered along with some additional dishes. Our waiter was young and energetic (maybe just legal to drink) and although he tried to exude sophistication.
The first course was a quiche-like something. It was barely warm and made with a puff pastry that was extremely rubbery. The dish was flavorless and piled atop a mound of over-dressed, limp lettuce. This dish arrived before we had an opportunity to even place a drink order. We were pondering the wine list and asked if they had a sommelier. We asked three different people several times if they had a sommelier. The bus boy was not sure what we were asking for and asked a waitress to help us. We repeated the request a number of times and without admitting ignorance of the word, she responded that she would check with the kitchen. Pondering a sparkling sake, there was a chance that it was dry or sweet, but no one seemed to know and our waiter’s only response was that someone had tasted it last week and enjoyed it.
The second course was a small tasting of crudo. However, under the two raw seafood preparations, was a puddle of spinach, a few pink peppercorns, and citrus oil. I know that one of the fish offerings was tuna, but I can’t tell you what the white fish was. On top of the two fishes was uni and caviar. It was layered far too high to gather all of the ingredients, but even with those I did get in my first bite, my initial reaction was “train wreck.” It was extremely reminiscent of the sickly-sweet perfume I wore as a nine-year old. There were too many disparate flavors and the muddled, strident tones of the ingredients conflicted with each other. Served alongside was a tuille of parmesan cheese studded with sesame seeds, but the cracker was woefully stale. Thankfully, our order of individual glasses of champagne arrived to help cleanse the palate. The dish was piled so high as to be laughable with the ¼ teaspoon-sized utensils offered. I believe this was intended to be more along the lines of an amuse, but instead of amusing, I was aghast. I made a comment that I would not be remotely offended if we wanted to cut bait and leave, but we agreed to give them one more try. As we looked at each other in horror as the bread basket arrived. What looked to be potentially beautiful, crusty bread was in fact bread that had either been steamed or microwaved. I’m not sure this was the straw that broke our camel’s back, but it definitely showed an astonishing lack of professionalism on the part of the kitchen.
Our third course was a salad that was described as “Crab Ceasar.” The travesty which was offered was yet another multi-layered concoction of discordant components; intensely strong pesto underneath fried, greasy shoestring potatoes, under overly-dressed miso/Ceasar greens, under a salad of crab meat which was gloppy in its mayonnaise-based dressing, which was under some shredded vegetable of indeterminate origin. Yes, you read corrently: Three different dressings in one “salad,” none of which were balanced or remotely appetizing. And to have all three composed in one dish was atrocious. It was here that we started calling for servers to tell them to stop the meal. We were just on the border of the evening being early enough to salvage some potential dining time and we needed to make our escape soon if we were going to have an opportunity at another establishment.
Unfortunately, another course arrived. It was in an oddly useless piece of service ware; a deep, oblong bowl on top of which was a two-handled, ceramic “spoon” which kept it from lying flat on its own. In the bowl itself was crab ravioli garnished with two over-cooked, ruby prawns. The ravioli dough was gummy and the sauce akin to Chef Boyardee. In the spoon-like attachment were two prosciutto-wrapped cherry tomatoes. For whatever reason, they call this “prosciutto maki” and garnished it again with the horrendous pesto.
The manager had arrived as my companion explained that the meal was just not working for us. I was reaching for my purse to escape, when the manager begged the indulgence of continuing the meal. I will grant that the restaurant is new and that it takes some time to iron out problems, but with the short time I have to visit, I was in no mood to be anyone’s guinea pig. To his credit, the manager pleaded for a return visit and while it seems obvious the chef has had some formal training, he seems to be one that is newly graduated from cooking school with the idea that good food must be a complicated mélange of flavors, but it seems shockingly evident that the chef has little experience with taste components or flavor matching.
Looking at their website, the mystery continues in presenting themselves as offering “French-Japanese inspired cuisine featuring European culinary traditions and ingredients indigenous to Japan.” I was unaware that pesto and fried shoestring potatoes were indigenous to Japan. Their website promotes “a distinctive wine list highlighting petite vineyards.” When was Beringer’s White Zinfandel’s vineyards ever considered petite? Well, they didn’t mislead in one regard; they state that their “goal is provide all the necessary elements that will result in an unforgettable dining experience, creating memories that will last a lifetime.” Man, there is no chance of me EVER forgetting this dining experience. I wish I could.
Shame on me for not writing this up sooner. My birthday present to myself this year was a trip to Los Angeles to see old friends and to finally dine at the mythic Urasawa. There was as much anticipation in approaching this meal as there was in going to the French Laundry for the first time; so much has been written about it and its masterful chef, that one can almost anticipate disappointment. I mean, how special and remarkable can ultra-expensive hunks of raw fish be after all? Suffice to say, that nary a meal in my past can surpass what I experienced at the hands of Hiro Urasawa. Yep, its true. It is the best meal I have ever eaten in my entire life, bar none. No mis-steps, every taste a revelation, every offering better than the last.
I have become a broken record on the state of Yakitori in San Francisco; you can’t throw a dead cat in any neighborhood of that illustrious city and not hit a Japanese restaurant, yet there is a not a single yakitori establishment anywhere in it’s small confines. Yeah, I have heard of a few in South San Francisco or down on the peninsula, but in San Francisco proper, there is nary formal barbeque utilizing the essential Kishu Binchō-tan, or charcoal wood. This means my occasional trips to Southern California always necessitate a visit to a Yakitori restaurant, of which there are a plethora (go figure). Shin-Sen-Gumi has been my go-to yakitori for years but on the occasion of hitting L.A. for my birthday, old friend and local food writer Richard Foss suggested a new joint he had heard good things about, Izakaya Bincho in Redondo Beach. It was slightly surreal because Redondo was where I called home for almost a decade and left over seven years ago for the wiles of Napa (eventually decamping for San Francisco). Odd to walk the boardwalk, hear the Saturday night mating calls from nearby Naja’s, a local watering hole, and see the changes in a neighborhood I had known so well…
