la.foodblogging

I went on a diet, swore off drinking and heavy eating, and in fourteen days I lost two weeks. — Joe E. Lewis
Mako Sushi
503 East Live Oak Ave. (at Lenore Ave.), Arcadia 91006
(626) 447-6150

$30-$40 per person

Lunch: 11:30 am - 2:00 pm
Dinner: 5:00 pm - 10:00 pm

Bottom Line: What a find — affordable sushi that takes me back to Japan.

They handed us hot tea. It was early in the morning in the dead of winter, and already we were standing in a huddled mass, waiting to be let in with nothing more than the sound of forklifts to keep us company. On the other side of the curtain, ten people sat quietly at the bar in a warm glow, grateful for the bounty of the day’s catch. “Irasshai!” one by one we were called inside. This was the Tsukiji experience. I knew then, as I do now, that sushi will never be as good as it was that faithful morning in Tokyo.

Consequently, I stopped eating sushi altogether. For a year I would not go near the stuff because it was simply disappointing. Only after a Japanese friend recommended to me a small, “authentic” sushi restaurant did I dare venture out for another taste. I would give it a chance, but frankly, I was not expecting much.

With one bite, however, I quickly recanted my fast. Mako Sushi had done what was seemingly impossible; Mako Sushi had brought me back to that tiny sushi stand I remembered so fondly, next to the bustling market at Tsukiji.

Mako has mainly played host to a stream of regulars over the past thirty-five years because of its location off the beaten track, untouched by dining fads and unhindered by culinary stereotypes. By now, the chefs at this neighborhood sushi bar know most patrons by their first names and favorite orders, each customer greeted at the door with an enthusiastic “irasshai!” followed inevitably by a dialogue more characteristic of bar buddies or old friends than a casual diner and their chef. This is especially true of Itaka-san, the energetic proprietor and senior chef at the far end of the bar, whose career began in Japan over forty years ago. Living in the states has not affected his standards for fine fish, however, as he has built a reputation on consistently exceptional food and meticulous attention to detail in every aspect of the operation.

The sushi served here just tastes different. Each cut, at its peak of freshness, expresses its natural texture, sweetness, and body — in essence, its personality — to the ready student of this ancient cuisine. Golden uni (sea urchin) oozes creamy sweetness that floods your palate, yet it washes clean with a sip of tea; shimmering, alabaster hotategai (sea scallop), its top quickly seared with a blowtorch before serving, starts smoky and ends somewhere in between savory and sweet, its flavor transforming with each successive bite; humble aji (mackerel), served with a dash of green onion and ginger, balances sweet, salty, sour, and bitter flavors perfectly, a feat that even more expensive cuts may never achieve.

Order amaebi (sweet shrimp) for a delightful surprise: you have the option of enjoying the shrimp shells either deep fried or in miso soup. This reviewer particularly enjoys the deep-fried, tempura-style for their crunchy, savory counterpoint to the fresh and creamy sweet shrimp. The carcass of the aforementioned aji receives a deep-fried treatment as well, if you’re lucky (or if you order four pieces). Authentic touches such as this give you more of an appreciation for the culture surrounding the sushi bar, in which nary a piece of each organism is wasted.

Ordinarily one should never order o-toro (the fattiest tuna) because it is both prohibitively expensive and environmentally irresponsible; bluefin tuna, from which ­most sushi-grade tuna is cut, cannot be sustainably fished. However, even the most disciplined hedonist will be overcome when the filet is unwrapped to reveal a piece of fish resembling a beautifully marbled piece of pale-pink Kobe beef. A cut like this, anywhere, at any cost, is difficult to come by.

So, you try a piece. Like butter, it begins by melting in your mouth until the tuna flavor begins to bloom like none other you have experienced before — during the next minute, subtle low notes make their way up the palate, gaining intensity with every passing moment until your tastebuds stand on end and your face is overwhelmed by a feeling of complete and total satisfaction. I had a smile on my face for about twenty straight minutes after my first piece, and when I closed my eyes I could smell the docks of the fish market.

The price? $5.50 a piece for this little slice of heaven (everything else is ~$3-6 for two oversized pieces), and around $30 for dinner. Mako Sushi, you had me at tamago (sweet egg).

sneakypeteiii is a doctoral student in Chemistry at Caltech. He has been eating since he was a child, and reckons himself quite good at it. (see more of his posts).