You might miss it entirely, distracted by dramatic displays of smoke unfurling from the saba sushi, the ombre tiles of tuna from the ruby-red loin to the blush pink otoro . It is constantly upstaged, but it is the stage. It is the rice, the building block of sushi. For his shari , or sushi rice, Tsuji mixes two varieties: Sashanishiki, which Tsuji values for its texture, with Nanatsuboshi, which lends sweetness. He then flavors it with a blend of three different vinegars ranging in maturity from three to ten years to achieve his desired level of acidity. The result: The shari provides lightness and harmony with each fish draped across it. "The shari defines the quality of the experience," Tsuji says through a translator. "If the neta (topping) is good but shari is not prepared with proper care, the sushi will not be delicious."
Early this year Tsuji opened Sushi Gyoshin, a tiny omakase restaurant barely bigger than a bedroom, marked only by a noren (curtain) with the restaurant's name (days before the restaurant opened, someone stole the noren—as if the place weren't already hard enough to find). The narrow sliver of a space consists of just eight seats fronting Tsuji's workspace; with little separation between diner and chef, it feels like sharing a stage with a one-man show. You are near enough to hear the satisfying crack as Tsuji cuts through nori, close enough to see slices of mirugai (Pacific geoduck) curl upward as he scores it with his knife.
Chef Hiroshi Tsuji delicately places gold leaf on uni and minced toro, part of his artful fifteen- course menu at the recently opened Sushi Gyoshin omakase restaurant in Honolulu.
The fifteen courses combine kaiseki with omakase sushi, beginning with a series of seasonal appetizers that change weekly. They might take advantage of the winter shirako (cod milt) season, combining the creamy milt with kuzu (kudzu) starch to create a soft tofu. In spring it might be firefly squid, each the size of a thumb, bathed in a ginger sauce. Born in Japan, Tsuji spent most of his twenty-year career there learning sushi and washoku (traditional Japanese cuisine), with its emphasis on balance and seasonality. He intended to go to Europe to learn new cuisines, but when a friend offered him a position in Honolulu, he accepted without hesitation.
After about five years working at Japanese restaurants, he decided to open his own place, naming it Gyoshin, or "fish god." In the chef's hometown of Toyama, the phrase also refers to nodoguro , or blackthroat seaperch, a prized fatty white fish. If the timing is right, Tsuji will serve it, torching its skin lightly before setting it on a pedestal of rice—at this serene altar on a busy Honolulu street, a tribute to home and the fish gods.
sushigyoshin.comOpens external link to page that may not meet accessibility guidelines
