Last night I pulled an all-nighter. This was, to some degree, a necessity. I wanted to see a bit of Tokyo nightlife, and Halloween seemed as good a time as any. The problem is that once you’re past midnight, you’re not getting home until the first trains at 5am. You have to commit. I decided to kill two birds (and a few fish) with one stone and combine clubbing with an early morning trip to Tsukiji, apparently the world’s largest seafood market. The clubbing was not noteworthy, but my eventual breakfast at Sushi Bun was, quite simply, one of the finest meals I have ever had:
This could very reasonably be argued to be the best sushi in the world. I sat/slumped on my stool for breakfast at about 6am, one hour after the market opened… this is as fresh as it gets. I’m told they stop serving by lunchtime because by this point they consider the fish to be past its best. The food is superb. Flawless. Honestly. Even at 3,675 Yen (£29) I feel like I’ve got myself a bargain – an authentic culinary experience that will be hard to match. I’m sure words probably could describe the food, but I’m not going to try… it’s raw seafood and it tastes as such – there is no magic here, fish is fish – but it’s fucking tasty, and lashings of wasabi are delivered with real subtlety, never overpowering the dish (or my tongue). I only wish I knew exactly what each piece was – I know one of them is sea urchin.
The plate was accompanied by a pot of pickled ginger petals, or gari (a full blown assault on the tongue – sour, vinegary and slightly sweet), and a bowl of stupendously creamy clam (I think) soup. Image quality is pretty poor here – photos were not allowed, so I had to capture some sly shots on my iPhone:
To give an impression of what the place was like, I have one shot of the kitchen and the elderly Japanese lady who helped to prepare the food (below) – not the sushi itself as far as I’m aware… that was done by two men behind the bar where the food is served… unfortunately I wasn’t able to see the process first hand. The seating area itself is tiny – maybe space for 8 people at any one time.
It’s awesome. The meal was so enjoyable that I fear I will never be able to enjoy sushi again… it just won’t match up to this. In truth, I never liked sushi that much beforehand – I eat it occasionally when I want to show the world that I’m a young, ambitious, cosmopolitan Londoner – so this breakfast is destined to fade into memory as a fleeting glimpse of perfection… the culinary equivalent of two lovebirds who share one night of true, unquestioning romance, knowing that in the morning they must part ways never to see each other again, blessed by their memories but cursed by the intensity of their love which leaves them forever unable to find happiness with anyone else. I have no weird shit to alleviate the nausea-inducing wankery this time. I don’t even want to. I’m love-sick. Sushi Bun… farewell my sweet darling, oh how I will miss thee.