MENU: TSUKIJI

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Living up to its soaring price tab
By Margaux Salcedo
Inquirer
Last updated 06:45am (Mla time) 09/23/2007
MANILA, Philippines - A tall man wearing whites greets us with a big smile as we enter the quiet restaurant. “Haro,” he says pleasantly, bobbing his head a little. “Hello,” we greet back this man who charmingly reminds me of Alfredo Linguini in the movie “Ratatouille,” except the guy before me is a smiling, calmer, Asian version without the chef’s hat that housed the rat cum chef underneath.

His name is Toshiro Okajima, chef of the restaurant Tsukiji on Pasay Road for 11 years now. Unlike the hapless Linguini, this chef knows his cuisine.

“I’d like some soba, please,” I announced with restrained excitement as I sat down. I’d been obsessing over soba noodles for over a week, inspired by my current reading on Japanese cuisine. I have just learned that soba-making is not an easy craft to master, as buckwheat is not as elastic as ordinary wheat, making the 1,000-year old tradition of soba-making a much revered practice.

As with many other Japanese delicacies, the creation of soba follows not only a particular method but a discipline in both the kneading and the cutting of the dough that takes years to master. Few people maintain the practice today, with less than 10% of the 30,000 or so soba houses in Japan still making handmade soba from buckwheat to bowl, so I was more than pleased to learn that at Tsukiji, Chef Okajima actually makes the noodles from scratch, using buckwheat flour flown in from Japan, and kneading the dough himself. Unfortunately, my romanticized picture of a sobalier (a soba sommelier) with a machete-like knife achieving perfect 1.3 mm noodles in spite of the difficult elasticity of buckwheat faded upon learning that Chef Okajima uses a machine to cut the noodles for efficiency and ease. Nevertheless, the soba, served at this restaurant with a line up of choices to accompany the noodles—scrambled egg, poached egg, shrimp tempura, beef—was quite satisfactory.

After my noodle fix, the explanation of why only monks and samurai were allowed to eat soba in the Edo era still escaped me. But I did find an explanation for the longevity of Tsukiji in spite of the sky-high prices on its menu. The secret is a commitment to freshness that few other establishments in the country have matched. The soba is only one example. Practically everything in the restaurant, down to the wasabi and the salt, is fresh and comes straight from Japan, with chef-owner J Gamboa sometimes doing the buying himself. “Did you know that in Japan, women are not allowed to hold the fish that will be sold because women have warmer hands and it is believed that this might ruin the fish?” Chef J gives me a few tips on Japanese wet market culture, then proceeds to share how he gets discounts. “These Japanese vendors, a lot of them are married to Filipinas so I just bring Filipino goodies and we end up trading or I get huge discounts because they want the pasalubong for their wives.” Talk about Pinoy charm. I remember his words on another visit, as I take in bites of my geoduck (pronounced "goo-i-duck") clam sashimi, which the waitress informs me just arrived from Japan the night before. I must have been in absolute reverie because as I savored the crunchy yet tender texture of the mirugai, and the fresh, delicately salty taste that made me understand why other writers have described it as “a taste of the ocean,” my sister snickered and said, “Naks, feel na feel!” Heh!

But she could not keep me from smiling in quiet appreciation over the giant (it is the largest burrowing clam in the world) and geriatric clam (they grow as old as 150 years). Each bite I took of the magnificent mollusk took me to the sea. It was absolutely refreshing on that hot day. But not everybody likes clams, so while I had a beautiful out-of-body experience with my P880 aptly-priced sashimi, my sister picked on her tempura. She had ordered an assorted tempura platter that presented three little seafood pieces and the rest were vegetables. “Kalabasa at iba pa (squash and so on). P660.” It was her sorry karma, heh-heh. Lesson learned: you don’t go to Tsukiji for the tempura. Even assuming the veggies or even the shrimp or prawns came from Japan, the freshness is drowned in oil, not worth the “sky’s the langit” price.

To make up for the disappointment, I ordered a sure winner: Wagyu Ohmi Shabu Shabu. The menu proudly claims that Tsukiji serves this “official beef of the Japanese Imperial household ... exclusively” since it opened in 1989. I like that at this restaurant, Wagyu is treated delicately, cut into thin strips and transformed from pink to brown before your eyes. You can actually inspect the marbling before you dunk it into the boiling water at the center of your table. And on this point, Tsukiji does not fail. Chef J Gamboa knows his wagyu.

This beef item, like the Snake River Farm steaks they also offer on the menu, falls within the P2,000 to P3,500 price range . But unlike the tempura, serious meat eaters would know it is very much worth its meat. Possibly because it is another dish that capitalizes on the freshness and quality standards that distinguish Tsukiji. The commitment to freshness remains evident in their Seasonal Specials Menu, which makes for a unique sashimi experience of bluefin tuna, ark shell, whelk clam, and other seasonal finds that range from P650 to P1,800.

If you feel, however, that this is not the season to be spending, don’t worry. Understanding costs as much as cuisine, Mr. Gamboa has introduced lunch and weekend sets that include an appetizer, a soup, a salad and meat or fish for just P400 to P800. And the California Maki, with six generous rolls, is only P290. Have that and a beef soba (P385) and you’re good.

Personally, I still prefer the seasonal finds. You can get a good maki almost anywhere, but unique creatures of the sea are an indulgence only Tsukiji can offer, give or take a rare couple of other Japanese restos in the metropolis. After all, the biggest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world is the Tsukiji Fish Market. The restaurant must live up to its name. And happily, it does.

Tsukiji. 3/F Milkyway Building, Pasay Road corner Paseo de Roxas.
8434285 / 8122913. No reservations required. Casual/Business Casual.
Major credit cards accepted. Elevator provides wheelchair access.