Japan – How to Help

This post is a little off-topic, but sometimes stuff happens that makes you stop and put things in perspective. The tragic events in Japan are one of those such things, and the recent news and pictures following the aftermath of the devastating earthquake have been heartbreaking to say the least. It makes scribbling on a food blog such as this seem somewhat frivolous.

The photo at the top is of a piece called "Upside Down Hinomaru" by Japanese artist Teruya Yuken. He describes the work as such:

I used to have the Japanese flag in my studio and one day I decided to move the flag. And as I began to move the flag upside down, I was feeling a gravitational pull moving along with me. I hung on to this power until I had completed a 180° turn. It was at this time that the power left me and I was looking back at the flag. To all it would appear as right side up but it was only to me that it looked upside down. It was then I felt a true personal relationship with the Japanese flag for the first time. I want to share my experience with the flag and also would like everyone to see what happens when something standardized gets turned upside down.

Japan is a truly remarkable and wonderful place and it will always hold a very special place in my heart. The country has (literally in some cases) been turned upside down. My thoughts go out to everyone affected and I hope it’s not too long until Japan is able to 'right itself' and be back on its feet again.

I wanted to leave you with a few photos from happier times that I took last year from the wonderful city of Tokyo, and include some possible ways of donating to the relief effort.

Save the Children – Japan Emergency Appeal

Norwegian Red Cross

American Red Cross


Wooden Ema (wishes) hanging at Meiji Jingu, a Shinto shrine



Temizuya for ceremonial purification at Meiji Jingu



View of Tokyo Tower from the top of Roppongi Hills

Shibuya crossing at dusk

2010: My Ten Dishes of the Year

I sit writing this from a bitterly cold Oslo. Sunshine and warmth seem like a long-distant memory. Walking outside is a somewhat surreal experience as shadowy figures dressed in thick duvet-like jackets shuffle along the half-lit icy pavements. But it's not that bleak really. The winter solstice has just passed, and with it we can slowly expect the daylight hours to get longer and our depleted vitamin D supplies to be replenished. Christmas is just around the corner, and of course we have a fresh new year with all its challenges and delights to look forward to.

Now, what good would an end-of-year article be without some sort of look back at the year gone by? Yes folks, it's time for a clichéd top-ten list! Without further ado, I bring you my ten best restaurant dishes of 2010. Drum roll please.

In reverse order, these are:

10. Caviar with Crab and Shellfish Jelly – Joël Robuchon, Monte-Carlo

What a way to start a meal! A little trompe l'oeil that looks like a whole tin of sevruga caviar is, instead, caviar atop layers of shellfish jelly and sweet crab meat. A perfect blend of flavours – rich, luxurious and a blast to eat, making you feel like a billionaire oligarch. Mwah-ha-haa!

9. Yose Tofu – Yashin, London

This was perhaps the finest tofu I have ever tasted. Served still warm, and barely set, it came with freshly grated wasabi and diced tosazu jelly, whose tart acidity was a perfect complement to the clean and fresh flavour of the tofu. Within seconds, we had scraped the bowl clean, and promptly called the waiter over to order another one. Heavenly!

8. Tartaleta de Chocolate con Cajeta – Topolobampo, Chicago

Second best dessert of the year is from newly Michelin-starred chef Rick Bayless. This titan of Mexican cuisine is a favourite of President Obama and I can see why. This tart consisted of luxurious, silky-smooth, dark Mexican chocolate sat atop a thin layer of soft, gooey cajeta (goats' milk caramel). This ensemble was lightly sprinkled with flakes of salt and encased in crumbly pastry. Accompanying this was a scoop of goats' cheese ice cream, toasted marshmallows, and graham cracker 'gravel'. Who knew chocolate and goats' cheese would go so well together!

7. Mascarpone Cream, Sponge Pudding, Almond Foam, White Truffle from Alba – Hélène Darroze, London

The undisputed best dessert of the year was this innocent looking number from Hélène Darroze at the Connaught. The cool, sweetened mascarpone was offset by a warm, eggy, vanilla sponge pudding. The residual warmth of the rich sponge was just enough to bring out the flavour of the abundant Alba truffle shavings, so that those wonderful aromas enveloped everything. The almonds and oh-so-light almond foam added a touch of perfumed nuttiness and a variation in texture. When combined, the flavours were nothing short of breathtaking – think of it as 'trifle of the gods.'

6. O-toro nigiri – Sushi Dai, Tokyo

I thought I knew sushi until I ate sushi in Japan, and then I realised everything I knew about it was wrong. The main culprit was this simple piece of o-toro nigiri served to me at Sushi Dai in Tokyo's Tsukiji Fish Market. Pristine tuna (bought a few hours before) had a beautiful spider's web of rich marbling. Eating it was such a sensual experience; the cool flesh of the tuna juxtaposed by the perfectly al dente and lukewarm rice. I hardly needed to chew, the buttery tuna just melted on my tongue. Epic.

5. White Truffle Risotto – Launceston Place, London

Without doubt, the finest risotto I have ever had – rich and creamy with an oh-so-perfect consistency, full of that intoxicating white truffle aroma – I shall be having warm fuzzy dreams about this dish for a long time to come.

4. Guinea Fowl – Oscarsgate, Oslo

At this tiny Oslo restaurant, Swedish chef Björn Svensson is performing little miracles with food. Meltingly tender guinea fowl was served with apple purée, beetroot, and potato. Scandinavia on a plate.

3. Flame Grilled Mackerel with Cucumber, Celtic Mustard and Shiso – The Ledbury, London

A classic by The Ledbury's Brett Graham. This is the dish most people rave about. Mackerel can be a tricky fish to tame – its oily fishiness is always in danger of overwhelming the taste buds. Here the fish was cooked to perfection; the core of it was soft, almost sashimi like, while the skin magically retained a smokey crispness. Accompanying this was a little parcel of smoked eel wrapped in a translucent film of cucumber jelly. A lightly pickled cucumber and delicate leaves of shiso and coriander cress added the needed acidity. I was lost for words at how good this dish was – one of the real highlights of the meal. Magnificent!

2. Langoustine with Oyster, Parsley and Seawater Emulsion, and Rye Crumbs – Noma, Copenhagen

In July, I ate at Noma, and the "world's best restaurant" lived up to the hype and more. This dish brought the house down for me. The most perfect langoustine, barely cooked, was placed on a warm basalt stone that was dotted with small pearls of oyster, parsley and seawater emulsion. A purple powder of seaweed was sprinkled over the stone. This was a dish you eat with your hands and we were encouraged to "make art" as we dipped the langoustine in the emulsion. I closed my eyes and felt transported to a beach on a hot summer's day. Simply amazing.

And the winner of the Nordic Nibbler best restaurant dish of 2010 award is ... *opens envelope* ....

1. Black Truffle Explosion, Romaine, Parmesan – Alinea, Chicago

Alinea totally and utterly took my breath away. The level that head chef Grant Achatz is cooking at now is just astounding. Alinea is on another planet altogether. The Michelin gods saw fit to deign this restaurant with three stars in their inaugural guide to Chicago. Every dish of the meal I had there was stunning, but the standout dish for me was a one-bite symphony of flavour called 'Black Truffle Explosion.' A wafer thin ravioli was filled with the most intense warm black truffle broth. It was eaten in one bite, releasing a cascade of unworldly truffle flavours.


This exercise was actually a lot harder than I imagined. The highlight of the year for me was undoubtedly my meal at Alinea, and at least half of the list could easily have been dishes from the newly crowned three-Michelin star Chicago restaurant. But there were lots of other incredible highlights, and looking back I feel very lucky to have been able to sample such wonderful food. I'll be honest, part of me can't wait to see the back of 2010, it's been that sort of year, but looking back at some of the happy memories, maybe it hasn't been so bad after all?

So, what have been the standout dishes of the year for you? What is your top-ten food list of 2010?

Finally, here's wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Koya, London - Restaurant Review

If I were to be stranded on a desert island and had to pick only one kind of noodle to take with me, it would definitely be the mighty udon noodle. Those thick, toothsome strands are just so satisfying and versatile. So on a recent trip to London, I was delighted to get the chance to try out a restaurant called Koya which, like all decent Japanese restaurants, specialises in just one thing – in this case, udon noodles.

Koya hasn't even been open a year, but it has already attracted a legion of enthusiastic fans, and I can see why – the noodles served here are fantastic and on a par with those I've had in Tokyo. Koya make their own udon noodles daily in the restaurant's basement, and I gather they import their wheat flour from Japan and use the traditional method of kneading the dough by foot. Proper udon noodle dough is just too thick to knead by hand, so using your feet allows your body weight to do much of the work.

We arrived at Koya just after 12pm, having taking my eldest daughter, Little Miss Nibbler (aged 4 years 2 weeks), to the theatre. The restaurant was fairly empty when we arrived, but within ten minutes of sitting down there was already a queue forming at the door. The interior is quite spartan, with tiled floors and simple wooden furniture giving a sense of Zen-like calm. As you can imagine, the menu here focuses on udon noodles, where you can have hot or cold noodles in a hot broth, or cold noodles with a cold sauce. Of course, there are non-noodle dishes such as donburi (rice bowls with different toppings) and other smaller plates.

Little Miss Nibbler announced that she would have the 'fish & chips' (£7), which comprised of cod tempura with thin lotus root crisps, sliced spring onion, grated daikon(?) and a vinegary dipping sauce. I managed to sneak a bite, much to my daughter's annoyance (we're still working on the sharing thing) and it was fine, if a bit bland for my taste. Although judging by Little Miss Nibbler's happy smile, she really enjoyed it.

We also ordered some tsukemono (£2.50), or homemade pickles. Unlike the Japanese pickles I'm used to, these were thinly sliced turnips, which had a lovely fresh acidity to them.

Mrs. Nibbler went for a ten curry don (£12) which, apart from sounding like a character from Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, was a rice bowl topped with Japanese curry sauce and a solitary, but huge, prawn tempura perched on top. This was also accompanied by miso soup.

I had a ten hiya-atsu (£12.50), which is cold udon noodles served with prawn and vegetable tempura and a bowl of hot dashi soup. Accompanying this was some tanuki (£0.50), which are crispy flakes of fried tempura batter. The 12 years I spent in Yorkshire as a boy frequenting fish & chip shops meant that I insisted on calling these 'tempura scraps'. Amusingly, tanuki gets its name from a mischievous mythical Japanese character with unfeasibly large gonads that can apparently stretch to the size of eight (eight!) tatami mats (ouch). The original 'golden balls' then. I digress...

The cold noodles were served on a bamboo mat topped with strands of nori (dried seaweed). These were precariously transferred by chopsticks into the dashi soup and topped with the tanuki, chopped spring onions, grated ginger, and sesame seeds. The dashi broth had a fantastically deep umami-rich taste, and caused the tanuki to gradually turn into gelatinous blobs of yumminess. But it was the noodles that really stole the show. Proper udon noodles are such a revelation, so different to their distant soup packet relatives. The ones at Koya were dense, but also light and springy, with a fantastic al dente bite to them. When lubricated by the soup they were joyfully (and noisily) slurped up. Just fantastic.

Sadly, the same couldn't be said of the tempura. Chunks of vegetable tempura that included broccoli, aubergine, and I think sweet potato, were heavy and oily, and I didn't really care to finish them. The prawn tempura was better, but it too was quite greasy. I'll probably steer clear of the tempura in future and go for something else.

As a comparison I thought I'd attach some photos I took on a recent trip to Tokyo. This was from an udon-ya somewhere near Shibuya station. It was a simple canteen style set-up but, as was to be a common theme in Tokyo, the food here was impeccable. As you can see from the photo it seems, at least at this place, that less is more in terms of how much dashi they place in the bowl. I think I prefer this way of serving udon as it allows the full flavour of the noodles to really shine. Also, in contrast to Koya, I found their tempura to be so light and almost greaseless. And like a proper Northern chippy, their tanuki 'scraps' were free.

It is testament to the quality of Koya's udon noodles that you can even make a comparison with the stuff served in Tokyo. Koya really is a fantastic addition to the capital's Japanese dining scene, and Little Miss Nibbler and I will definitely be back from more!

Food:        6 / 10

Service:     7 / 10

Ambiance: 6 / 10

Koya

49 Frith Street

London W1D 4SG

United Kingdom

Tel: +44 (0)20 7434 4463

Tsunahachi, Tokyo - Restaurant Review

It's been three months since I was in Tokyo, yet I still find myself reminiscing about this glorious, utterly bonkers city. Japan has so much to delight a food-lover; it is a truly extraordinary place. Now that I'm back in Europe, it feels like the week I spent in Tokyo was just part of some wonderful dream. So when Dinner in Brooklyn made a comment about tempura on my blog, it got me thinking about my first ever meal in Tokyo.

As this was a work trip I was lucky enough to have flown in to Tokyo cosseted away in business class, enjoying the free-flowing claret like some gout-ridden Regency viscount. The downside of this was that I slept right through the in-flight meal (which was no bad thing) and arrived in Tokyo bleary-eyed and ready to eat my own weight in, well, anything remotely edible.

Fresh off the Narita Express train, I alighted at Shinjuku station - a man on a mission with a singular purpose: food, and plenty of it at that. A guidebook recommended a tempura restaurant that was not too far from the station. Tempura is good, I thought, tempura is safe - I know tempura. I wasn't quite ready to dive into the culinary unknown just yet, there would be plenty of time for that later, and the thought of deep fried stuff sounded like the perfect salve for my aching hunger.

The restaurant in question was Tsunahachi - a relatively inexpensive Tempura chain with eight restaurants in Japan. By the time I arrived, a queue had already started to form and I took my place in line with other hungry diners. Eventually, I was ushered in to a fairly spartan, but busy, dining room and was seated at a bar counter with a perfect view of the two neatly dressed itamae's, who were busy manning two deep-fat fryers.

The great thing about Japanese restaurants, at least from a foreigner's point of view, is that many of them have this bizarre display of plastic doppelgangers of their food offerings. The detailing of these is really something to behold and they are quite a work of art. They also have the very handy feature of allowing the hapless gaijin to just smile and point at what they'd like to eat.

After smiling and pointing, it transpired that I ordered the tendon (Japanese rice bowl) set menu. First, a delightfully fresh salad of shredded daikon and ginko nuts. Then, those moreish Japanese pickles. I love the way they are soft, at the same time as being, quite possibly, the crunchiest things on Earth. Then came the main event, which was a bowl of rice topped with freshly cooked tempura. Everything is cooked to order here and I watched as the itamae meticulously prepared each ingredient, gave them a quick dredge in the batter, dipped them into the hot oil with some long chopsticks, and fried them to perfection. Prawns in particular were deftly handled; their heads whipped off and their bodies worked between the chef's fingers to elongate them. I also had tempura of delicate fish fillets, sliced renkon (lotus root), and tiny shira-ebi (sweet baby prawns) that had been formed into a fat rounds of tempura. The tempura was sensational - totally greaseless and so ethereal and crisp. Accompanying them was a dipping sauce and different types of flavoured salt. To finish, some miso soup that contained tiny clams no bigger than a pea. And suddenly I understood that eating in Japan would be an experience unlike any I had ever encountered. The sheer simplicity and attention to detail is nothing short of miraculous.

This piece of culinary theatre cost me the princely sum of JPY 2,100 (€19/$23) - a shocking bargain. I gather that this sort of tempura restaurant is fairly standard in Japan, and I can only imagine what a place like 7-Chome Kyoboshi, a tempura restaurant with a brace of Michelin stars, must be like. For me though, it served as a wonderful introduction to the radical philosophy on food the Japanese have.

Food:            8 / 10
Service:         8 / 10
Ambiance:     7 / 10

Tsunahachi
Takashimaya Times Square, 13F
5-24-2 Sendagaya
Tokyo
Japan
Tel: +81 3-5361-1860

Inakaya, Tokyo - Restaurant Review

We were supposed to have sushi. However, as I mentioned in my last post, finding places in Tokyo was proving to be trickier than I had imagined. Instead, after wandering around the Roppongi area of Tokyo for what seemed like ages, our hunger pangs got the better of us and we stumbled into the nearest restaurant. The restaurant in question turned out to be a small robatayaki restaurant called Inakaya.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect, and I was somewhat apprehensive given that a) the restaurant was deserted, b) we were in the most touristy/expat area of town, and c) there was no menu or price list to be found. We entered into what looked like quite a traditional and spartan dining room, the walls were adorned with small banners and other Japanese artefacts like fans, and decorative wooden paddles that are used to serve the food. We were greeted by raucous cries of "irasshaimase" from the chefs and waiters. I never know how I'm supposed to reply so we all just smile and nod and generally stand around looking like clueless gaijin.

We were ushered to one of the two u-shaped tables that seat about 10-12 people each. Each table surrounds a charcoal grill attended to by a chef kneeling on an elevated bench. In front of the chef was a mouth-watering array of fresh produce such as asparagus, mushrooms, Kobe beef, prawns, mushrooms, and fish. I gather that robatayaki is supposed to recreate the atmosphere of a traditional farmhouse with guests seated around the open hearth.

The waiters spoke some English and instructed us to pick from the dazzling array of produce in front of us. We were like kids in a candy shop pointing at almost everything. Ice cold, crisp Japanese beer and a little delicious appetiser of ginkgo nuts and pickles arrived. Immediately, I could tell we were in good hands and could begin to relax.

The waiter would then loudly shout out each order to the chef which was then repeated by the rest of the wait staff in case the chef, for reasons I can't fathom, hadn't heard it the first time. The chef then repeated the order back at similar volume and the process was repeated for every dish and drink. It was an fantastically fun and energetic atmosphere in which to eat, not a place for a quiet night.
 

The chef then set about meticulously preparing the food he was about to grill. I watched as he carefully trimmed some asparagus and cut them to identical lengths. These were then threaded onto a skewer and grilled. Once cooked the food is passed to you on long wooden paddles, accompanied of course by more shouting. The asparagus was wonderful; crunchy, sweet and amazingly fresh. Grilled shiitake mushrooms were perfectly seasoned and slicked with a wonderful umami rich sauce. Corn on the cob was crisp, sweet and juicy with a pleasing char from the grill. Mild red chili peppers were roasted whole. A solitary giant prawn that was super fresh, and tender. Cubes of skewered Kobe beef were served with fresh grated wasabi and garlic puree that is mixed into a dipping sauce. I adore Kobe beef and the Japanese stuff is streets ahead of its American and Australian Wagyu counterparts. The beef here was absurdly good, it was richly marbled which, when cooked, rendered it succulent and it really did just melt in the mouth.

All of a sudden the chef got up and left swiftly to be replaced by another. For a second I thought he was off for a smoke/tea/bathroom break, but in fact no, apparently it is traditional at a robatayaki restaurant to change the chef at the end of the meal. We finished with thin slices of grilled onion which was slicked with the same sauce as the mushrooms. I had watched as the chef had sliced into what looked like a perfect onion only to reject it for another one due to some minor imperceptible imperfection. As I've mentioned before about my dining experiences in Tokyo, the sheer quality of produce and attention to detail is unbelievable. Finally to finish the meal was a simple, perfect kiwi. Bliss.

Grilled prawn

Kobe beef skewer

Grating fresh wasabi

Chef serving out food

The damage came to about £100 a head with beer, which seems steep given the amount of food we had but, luckily for me, I was on an expense account. I suppose you are also paying for the full undivided attention of your own chef and a small army of waiters - we were in a group of 5 which put the staff/guest ratio at over 2 staff for each guest, way more than a Michelin 3-star restaurant.

I later found out that Inakaya is a chain of restaurants with 3 restaurants in Tokyo and one in New York City, but it doesn't feel like that at all. The one we went to in Roppongi felt small and intimate and all the staff were super efficient and friendly. The atmosphere is quite raucous but its a lot of fun so this is definitely a place to go in large groups and not for a first date. Yes, this Inakaya is in a 'touristy' area and yes it's a touch overpriced, but with the freshness and quality of the produce and the enthusiastic service, who can complain?


Food:          8 / 10

Service:       9 / 10

Ambiance:   9 / 10

Inakaya

5-3-4 Roppongi Minato-ku

Tokyo, Japan

Bird Land, Tokyo - Restaurant Review

I'm lost again. Tokyo has to be one of the most challenging places to get around - there are no street names here, just block numbers and buildings numbered in the order they were built. Quirky to say the least, and very frustrating when I'm trying to find a restaurant and about to go hypoglycaemic. At least I'm in good company as on numerous occasions I saw lots of Tokyoites just as hopelessly lost as me. Eventually, thanks to the iPhone's trusty map feature, we find our destination in the basement of what looks like an apartment building in the upscale Ginza area of Tokyo. The restaurant in question is Bird Land, and despite the strange name is one of the hottest tickets around at the moment. It is widely considered to be the gold standard of yakitori restaurants and just gained its first Michelin-star in the latest version of the Tokyo guide (although it can be argued that Michelin stars are somewhat redundant for Japanese food in Japan).

We arrived to a packed restaurant at around 7pm and with no reservation managed to get a couple of seats at the large u-shaped bar area, facing a large central grill where the main event was being prepared. I gather that Birdland only takes same-day reservations from noon and it's super popular, so we were quite lucky to be seated so quickly. Amazingly for Tokyo their website takes reservations online in English.

Yakitori is a simple type of Japanese food which basically consists of grilled chicken on a skewer. Sounds pretty tame, maybe a tad boring, no? I suppose it's the Japanese equivalent of a kebab joint with booze, where salarymen spend the evening after work drinking rotgut sake and eating grilled chicken. However, here at Bird Land, the art of yakitori is taken to another level entirely and the attention to detail is simply phenomenal. The restaurant is owned and run by Toshihiro Wada. He first set up shop over 20 years ago in the back alleys of Tokyo's Asagaya area and quickly gained a name for himself as one of the best yakitori chefs around. In 2002 he moved to the site of the current restaurant, which is surprisingly light and airy given is underground locale. At one end of the large wooden bar are smaller tables for diners. The whole atmosphere feels very relaxed and intimate. The clientele included salarymen having a bite to eat after work and couples on dates.

Master Toshihiro Wada at the grill

The chicken that Wada-san uses here is something really special. They are free-range Okukuji shamo (gamecocks), reared in the mountains of northwest Ibaraki prefecture. Their meat is soft, aromatic and stunningly fresh. So fresh in fact that you can eat it raw, and it is a common starter here at Bird Land where its called shamo sashimi and is served with wasabi and a sweetish shoyu sauce. The yakitori skewers are grilled over Bincho charcoal from the Kii Peninsula, which is highly rated for the even, constant heat it generates.

There are two omakase (chef's) menus costing JPY 6,000 and 8,000 (£45-60) but we opted to go a la carte and tried a selection of things, galline and otherwise. First up I tried grilled chicken fillet which was served simply with salt and freshly grated wasabi. The chicken was lightly charred and dotted with small blobs of wasabi. Alarmingly it was cooked rare but, so far in Japan I've learnt to put my prejudices to one side and assume they know best. It was monumentally good.

They also had a few dishes that combined traditional Japanese yakitori with European flavours. A dish of grilled chicken with basil and chervil was wonderfully fresh and light, and seemed new and strange after having only Japanese food during my week-long visit. Shiitake mushrooms were wonderful and smokey - how can something as simple as a grilled mushroom be so amazing? I also tried some fresh, creamy tofu which was drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt and a grind of black pepper with a couple of sage leaves on the side. I could have been in Campania in Italy eating fresh buffalo mozzarella. Pure genius. Tsukune was next and this consisted of minced chicken shaped into thumb sized sausages, brushed with a slick of a savoury taro sauce. Again, these were cooked medium rare. Finally chicken thigh meat which was cut into cubes and grilled, skin on. The meat being super tender and juicy and the skin was as crisp as pork crackling, snapping pleasingly between your teeth like a thin sheet of caramel. This was all washed down with some cold, crisp Suntory beer. The restaurant also had an impressive wine list which added to the whole Japanese/European vibe.

Other dishes which we didn't try included sunagimo (chicken gizzards), chicken hearts, skin, and pâté. We also witnessed some chefs grilling cubes of caciocavallo cheese so the outside melted slightly leaving the interior warm and gooey.

Grilled shiitake mushrooms

Fresh tofu with olive oil and sage

Grilling cubes of Caciocavallo cheese 

Total cost per person came to around JPY 5,500 (£41) which seems like a bargain in Tokyo. I was totally amazed by Bird Land. The sheer reverence for quality of ingredients and precision of cooking is outstanding. The real genius of Toshihiro Wada is in brining a more modern gourmet approach to what is a very traditional Japanese food and in combining European flavours with yakitori to create something truly special.

Food:          9 / 10

Service:       8 / 10

Ambiance:   8 / 10

Bird Land

Tsukamoto Sozan Bld B1F
4-2-15 Ginza

Tokyo, Japan

Tuna Auctions at The Tsukiji Market, Tokyo

The alarm clock's incessant beeping woke me at 3:30am. The temptation to turn it off and snuggle under the warm duvet of my ridiculously comfortable bed at the Grand Hyatt Tokyo was almost too much. Then I realised what lay ahead. Tuna. I was heading off to the Tokyo Metropolitan Central Wholesale Market (aka Tsukiji Market), and here I would be able to witness the sight of tons and tons of tuna being auctioned off for tens of thousands of dollars. At Tsukiji the action starts early and the hotel concierge advised us to be there by 4:30am at the latest.

Tsukiji Market is truly huge. It handles over 2,000 tons of seafood each day, which by comparison is almost 30 times more than Billingsgate market in London, and employs over 60,000 people. If you were in any doubt about the importance of seafood in Japan, then you only need to look around at the sheer scale and intensity of Tsukiji Market which handles about a third of Japan's seafood. The market is split into an inner- (Jonai Shijo) and outer-market (Jogai Shijo). The inner market is where most of the activity is and apart from access to the tuna auctions it now remains closed to the public until 9:00am. The outer market consists of small restaurants and various shops selling things like restaurant supplies, kitchen utensils, amazingly sharp knives, seafood, and fruit and veg.

Tsukiji Market has had an up and down relationship with tourists and has periodically banned them from attending the famous tuna auctions due to the behaviour of some thoughtless tourists interfering with the auction process. The tuna auctions have just reopened after their latest tourist ban and have now limited the number of daily sightseers to just 140 on a first-come, first-serve basis.

The tuna auctions run from around 5:30am to 7:00am and the daily group of 140 sightseers is split into two groups of 70 to better manage the crowds. Even though we arrived by 4:30am we were in the second group which entailed about an hour and a half wait before we got to see the auctions. Before entering the auction area we were given bright green "gaijin alert" vests to wear and were guided through the market to the inner market area where the auctions take place. Even at this early hour the market was in full swing, with dozens of small motorised fish-carrying carts zipping around all over the place. One false move and you'd easily be run over. It was organised chaos and was amazing to see, this being my first time at a working fish market.

The actual auction area itself was breathtaking; A gigantic, football field-sized warehouse with hundreds of frozen bluefin tuna fish laid out in neat rows on the floor. They looked like giant steel-grey torpedoes, and the mist coming off them gave a very eerie feel to the place. The tuna has been arriving from all over the world since the previous evening and each fish had been marked with bright red paint to presumably indicate it's provenance and weight. Seven wholesalers take responsibility for bringing in the tuna from around the world and then selling it to mid-level wholesalers who in turn sell it on to distributors for use in shops and restaurants. The fish had been grouped, seemingly by size, into smaller lots. Their tails had been removed and a huge gash was cut into the rear of the fish so that a flap exposed the flesh beneath. Licensed buyers working in overalls and wearing wellington boots would inspect the fish with a small gaff and a torch to check the quality and determine how much they would bid.

Inspecting the tuna before the auction begins

Suddenly a loud clanging of hand bells indicated that an auction was about to begin. An auctioneer stood up on a plastic crate in front of a row of tuna and a small gaggle of buyers huddled around. Then the auctioneer launched into some rhythmic shouting. I have no idea what he was saying, but now and then one of the buyers would make some subtle gesture and scribble something down on a notepad. And then as quickly as it had started it was over. This lot of tuna were sold. Tens of thousands of dollars had changed hands and the auctioneer was already off to auction the next lot of tuna. Someone came round to paste labels on the fish, indicating who had just bought it. Two men hauled the beasts with their fish gaffs onto small hand carts and they were carried off to their next destination en route to being turned into wonderful sushi.

Auctioning off the bluefin tuna

Clip of a tuna auction

Labelling the winners´fish

Cutting up the tuna with a bandsaw

After that we filed out of the auction area, again watching out for the motorised carts, and instead of hanging around till 9:00am when the central wholesale market opened to the public we decided to wander off in search of some of the best sushi on the planet.

Tsukiji Market is really an amazing sight and a must-see if you are ever in Tokyo. Unfortunately though, it is not immune to changing times and its longer term future remains uncertain, at least in its current form. Due to the growth of the market there are plans to move the market to a new 374,000 sq.m. site on reclaimed land in Tokyo Bay in 2014. Sadly, it is also expected that the traditional open-outcry markets will be replaced by a computerised system. However, whether this materialises or not is another question, a recent article in the Japan Times cites the growing trend for end-users to source seafood directly from fisherman and a growing appetite for meat in Japan as a cause of the Tsukiji's declining influence. It would be a real shame if the Tsukiji Market as we know it today were to change significantly and one hopes that the Market can adapt and bounce back and keep wowing visitors with its amazing seafood spectacle.