Literally translated, bushi-tei means "warrior restaurant." Though Japan's samurai warriors are infamous for their practice of ritual suicide, their code was noble, stressing loyalty, self-discipline and respect -- fitting ideals for a restaurant. After one visit, I am still trying to decide if it lived up to them or not. There were a few gaping culinary missteps, but there were also such fantastic successes that I am torn between the highs and the lows, desperate for more of the former, willing to forgive the latter.
The new-ish Japantown restaurant is unobtrusive -- all but unnoticeable, in fact -- from the outside, but inside it makes a statement. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows front noisy Post Street, magically tuning out the din so all the diner is left with is the vivid impression of streaking red taillights, people hurrying past on their way home from work, the hustle and bustle of city life. It makes you feel like you are "somewhere."
The restaurant is small, and a large communal table -- ever the rage, it seems -- takes up most of the downstairs dining room. It is wide enough that couples are seated side-by-side, which offers a bit of privacy from the guests seated opposite, but not so wide that friendly types wouldn't be able to politely inquire what nearby diners are drinking, or if they like what they've ordered. I'm not sure this sort of conviviality is assured, but it's what owner Takumi Matsuba had in mind when he built the table. As with the wood that panels the miniature mezzanine, the table is built in part from reclaimed pine and cedar he salvaged from a home built in Nagano prefecture in 1863.
Chef Seiji "Waka" Wakabayashi, who was trained as both a chef and a pastry chef, is a warrior of the Franco-Japanese variety, and as such he emphasizes technique and presentation over ingredients. We opted for his 5-course omikase menu ($90). The first dish was a successful marriage of the two cuisines: red shiso-marinated striped jack sashimi was served with an artichoke ravigote and herb salad. Bliss. The fish was stunningly fresh and the tangy artichokes and zingy salad showed it to full effect rather than masking its flavors. The next dish was its evil doppelganger. A perfectly cooked scallop arrived atop a smear of petit tomato and kahlua balsamic reduction. The tomato and the reduction overpowered the poor, delicate scallop; I might as well have taken a bite of chicken for all the flavor that came through. The small halved tomatoes on either side were far too tart for the sweet meat, and I felt like the dish was an utter failure.
But then...then came the tuna. Two gorgeous triangles of seared Big eye tuna arrived on a pile of creamy English pea risotto with winter truffles and a vermouth beurre blanc. Oh. My. God. This might be the best thing I have eaten all year. (Searching through memory archives...scanning...scanning...) By George, I think it is! (Though Circa's lobster and truffle mac-n-cheese runs a cheeky second.)
I ate it slowly, savoring every bite. I don't know that I'd have ever thought to pair tuna with risotto, nor can I recall ever being served the two together. Tuna with soy, yes. With ginger, sure. With chili and garlic, spinach and mashed potatoes, tomatoes and capers...the list goes on and on. But pea and truffle risotto is clearly where it's at. This tuna's got game.
A lovely gesture came next in the guise of a green apple and yuzu sorbet palate cleanser. Then we had the lamb, a dish our waiter assured us was jaw-droppingly good. My impression? Eh. As I'd come to expect from Chef Waka, the lamb was prepared to perfection, tender and pink with an astoundingly well-matched wasabi-port sauce. If he had left it at this, I would have applauded loudly. But the potato coins underneath, though not bad, were neither shining examples of potato-ness, nor did they add anything to the dish. Better to have left them off. The spinach was likewise -- and also raised an important point. I would like to see Chef Waka, a Spago alumnus, absorb some more of California's influence. For instance, why was the spinach imported from New Zealand, and proudly touted as such, when we have excellent organic varieties being grown within a stone's throw? (Was it a recent decision, given the E.coli scare? If so, fair enough. Customers are easily spooked. But it's time to go back to local greens.) In the same vein, they really ought to lose the Chilean sea bass from the menu; serving endangered fish isn't just uncool, it's downright irresponsible. I'm not the confrontational type, but I was sorely tempted to pull my soapbox out of my bag, step up on it, and wag my finger.
[UPDATE: The Chilean sea bass has been taken off the menu permanently in response to its endangered status. Bravo!]
When it came time for dessert, another stunner showed up. (Not the gratin aux fruits...though the fruit -- pretty, plump raspberries and strawberries, sweet pineapple and blueberries -- were all Platonic ideal versions of themselves, the sabayon was a touch too sweet and not terribly inventive. Where did the Japanese influence go?) No, what sauced up dessert was the sparkling dessert sake we were served. It definitely tasted of sake, but there was a fruity component along the lines of lemony-lime, and, of course, bubbles. We lapped it up like thirsty dogs. (Well, I would have, if I weren't trying to keep my drinking to a minimum these days. Increased cancer risk, beer bellies and all that.) According to Matsuba, bushi-tei is one of only four local spots that serve dessert sake. It must be refrigerated at all times, so they can only order as much as will fit in their fridge. When they're out, they order more. A visit is worth it for the sake alone.
In the end, it is as I said: several dishes were stunners, and we both reveled in the soothing, serene atmosphere. (Plus I loved the toilet -- one of those super techy Japanese types with heated seats, warm water washes for front or back, and automatic lid lowering.) But there were some notable culinary non sequiturs. Harkening back to the samurai's code, I wonder if there is an overabundance of loyalty (to technique) and not quite enough respect (for ingredients). And the price tag is hefty -- $90 for 5 courses. Will I go back? If they're serving the tuna and risotto, or its equal, you betcha.
bushi-tei, 1638 Post St, 415-440-4959
1 star (Michelin)
3 stars (SF Chronicle)
***
Because I ate at bushi-tei as their guest, I don't feel it's appropriate to comment on service. They knew I was coming in as part of research for an upcoming assignment (Northside San Francisco's Top 100 Restaurants) and so obviously they did their best to show us a good time.
Recent Comments