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| Sitting at
the long bar of Teppo on Lower Greenville, I was reminded of the deliciously
hedonistic food essays that novelist Jim Harrison used to pen for
Esquire magazine. They were called "The Raw and the Cooked." That title could describe almost any Japanese restaurant's menu. But it's particularly apt for Teppo, where cool, immaculately fresh sushi and skewers of charcoal-grilled yakitori - both prepared while you watch - are about all you can get. |
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| And really,
they are all you need for a fun evening of noshing - though if you
must have a square meal, you can also order miso soup, salad and rice. Teppo occupies the old M Street Bistro space next to Thai Soon. Owner Teiichi Sukurai has redone the room beautifully, with blond woods, tiny track lights, rock and other reminders of nature, all arranged with the elegant Japanese sensibility. Even the tiniest details show thought, like the small stones that serve as rests for your chopsticks. As already noted, the menu is simply yakitori and sushi/sashimi. I imagine in Japan you'd find the cooked and the raw in separate shops and perhaps there's no specific order for eating them. To me though, it seemed logical to start with the delicately flavored sushi. The blackboard listed "medium fatty tuna" and for comparison, we also ordered the regular sushi tuna. Thick deep rose, firm for the latter; paler and rich flavor for the medium fatty. Sushi rolls chosen were the Louisiana, seaweed wrapped and filled with spicy crawfish, caviar and Japanese mayonnaise, and the "paradise roll" described as "the ladies favorite!" and filled with scallops and caviar, again bound with mayonnaise. Whatever it means, we preferred the Louisiana Most impressive is Teppo roll, a creative construction, like a gigantic decorated marshmallow, with the rice molded on the outside and brightly coated with orange salmon roe and green caviar. Mr. Sakurai calls it a "surprise roll"; it's filled with each customers favorite seafoods. |
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| Then on to
the yakitori selections. My companions wanted chicken with green onion
- a good, traditional choice, since yakitori literally translates
as "grilled fowl" - and sirloin crusted with slivers of
fresh garlic. Both were excellent. Chicken gizzards were my choice - to see if this notoriously tough organ meat could be made reasonably tender on the grill. They were fairly chewy but with a crunch, too, and perhaps not cooked to the degree chicken normally is. I liked them. The okra and bacon combination held small, perfect, still-crisp pods of the vegetable; the bacon was flabby and unbrowned. Dessert was cream puffs, five small, cream-filled pastries, as perfect as if they'd come from a French bakery and presented on a plate dusted with powdered sugar. Later I returned alone and sat at the yakitori end of the bar, determined to try some of the yakitori specialties - namely beef tongue and liver - that my first visit companions had nixed. I found even more exotic fare. First, however, I ordered a couple of sushi: jumbo clam, nicely textured and red snapper, refreshingly dressed by the sushi chef with a bit of soy, wasabi and finely diced scallion. It needed no further embellishment. Beef tongue yakitori was fabulous, lean, rich flavored and with a great crisp texture. If they didn't know what it was, everyone would love it. Chicken livers, substituted for beef liver that night, were more predictable, but good. A raw quail egg was broken into a small bowl and set next to grilled chicken meatballs. Instructions were to dip each meatball into the egg, then into Japanese red pepper and other condiments the yakitori chef had sprinkled on a serving plate. Lovely. |
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| While noshing,
I chatted with the chef - Mr. Sukurai, I later learned. He told me
the temperature of the yakitori grill (700 to 800 degrees) and that
the yakitori sauce he constantly dipped the meats in takes about six
days to make. (Soy sauce, mirin, Japanese green onion and cooked chicken
bones are simmered until five gallons of liquid is reduced to about
one.) The he commented that he was cooking a special treat - "chicken joint," currently a rage in Tokyo. There's only one piece of joint per chicken, he said, so he can make only one eight-piece order each night. Naturally, I was salivating. I asked more questions about this mysterious joint, but never really understood what part it comes from - "where two strips come together," Mr. Sukurai said. And not at the breast. I was thrilled when he gave me one skewer. It might not be everyone's treat: It's mostly light, delicate cartilage, with a bit of flesh attached. But those who appreciate the "varietal" parts of animals will relish it. And Mr. Sakurai says he has other "secrets and surprises" he prepares for appreciative customers. Incidentally, the chicken served at Teppo is all free-range and the whole chickens are carved there. You won't find chicken joints at Kroger or Tom Thumb. This visit ended with strawberry cake, a tortelike composition of white cake, berries and whipped cream. Beverages include the usual sushi go-withs - green tea, icy beer and sake, plus a selection of good California wines (to accompany yakitori, I'd guess, though beer is fine with it too). Attentive servers watch the tables and every visit begins with hot, wet cloths. Teppo has been busy since it opened and weekend nights it's usually packed. After all, its menu has something, raw or cooked, for everyone. |
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