EricMBloggie

The miso soup at most Japanese restaurants tastes and looks like it comes from the same wholesale distributor. Little cubes of rehydrated tofu and pieces of scallion float in a too-salty broth. It’s an acceptable precursor to a meal, but it’s standard, and as I found out today, sub-par. Morimoto taught me that miso soup is actually much better than that.

Step through the double set of green glass doors to a comfortable and hip design. The walls and ceiling undulate to the back of the space where sushi chefs assemble rolls at the bar. I sat back there by myself, enjoying the nearly automatic motions of the chef, and another cook who cooked big fillets of fish with a propane blowtorch. The serving platters, little bowls, and chopsticks were made of the same dark wood. The space fit together well, from the glowy green accents to the big comfy bar stools.

I ordered food that I’d get at any other sushi place to offer a comparison between average and Morimoto. The ‘Yellowtail and Scallion Roll’ and ‘Boston Mackerel Sushi’ came out first. I was off to a good start. The yellowtail was finely minced and there was just the right amount of scallion to boost the flavor. It melted in my mouth. The mackerel was fresh and oceanic with a good texture. It wasn’t too big a bite, which is important in comparison of the giant sized fish slabs on snowballs of rice served at lesser sushi joints. The white pickled ginger tasted fresher and seemed like a natural product compared to the normal pink stuff. Everything looked beautiful on the dark wooden platter.

My miso soup arrived next, in an oversized white bowl, with a heavy shallow metal spoon. The broth was salted, sure, but this is a far cry from the packets you get at Trader Joe’s. This soup has a full, balanced flavor, accented with hits of thinly sliced scallion. But what really makes this dish are the big chunks of fresh silken tofu floating in the soup. I’ve never had tofu like this before. It’s totally different from the blocks of tofu from the store. Wikipedia explains, “its texture can be described as similar to that of very fine custard.” From now on the reconstituted tofu blocks won’t cut it– bring on the fresh silken stuff.

You may not know this, but chances are you’ve never had real wasabi before.

Almost all sushi bars in America and Japan serve imitation (seiyō) wasabi (see Etymology section, below) because authentic wasabi is extremely expensive. Few people, even in Japan, realize that the wasabi that they consume is in fact an imitation. Although very hard to find, real wasabi powder (from Wasabia japonica plant) is a convenient way to experience true wasabi’s remarkable flavor, but most commercially available “wasabi” powders contain no true wasabi at all. Most utilize a powdered imitation made from horseradish, mustard seed, and green food coloring (sometimes Spirulina). Whether real or imitation, the powder is mixed with an equal amount of water to make a paste. (Wasabi Wikipedia)

I asked the chef if they served it at the restaurant.  He told me that even though he was out of it today, they almost always have it.  They normally serve a good version of the commercial wasabi powder (I knew it tasted better…) and for certain dishes bring out the real wasabi powder.  He went into the kitchen and brought out a small bowl of that for me.  It’s texture resembled a pastey fresh grated ginger.  It was mellower in heat than standard wasabi, and had more of a taste.  In comparison, the standard wasabi tastes, looks, and feels artificial.  He said if he mixes the real wasabi powder with wasabi root in a dish, he can barely tell the difference.  Also, he’ll only give out the wasabi root to someone who knows their sushi.  If he notices someone eating with proper protocol and they ask, they shall receive.  He was pretty serious about this– if they’re doing it wrong, they’re not getting any.  If you’d like to know more about sushi etiquette, here are some links:

Google
Alton Brown’s “Good Eats” on Sushi part 1
Alton Brown’s “Good Eats” on Sushi part 2

One roll, a bowl of soup, and one piece of sushi came to $22.75 with tip.  I left full, relaxed, and content.  Unless you’re making some serious dough, this is not an everyday lunch spot.  Hell, I’ve been working a block away for a couple of years now, and it’s the first time I’ve gone.  I can’t wait for a good excuse to go for a big, multi-course meal.

Check out Morimoto Restaurant for top notch service, atmosphere, and cuisine that costs a pretty penny.

MorimotoRestaurant
723 Chestnut St
Philadelphia, PA 19106
(215) 413-9070

(For a more modest, but still wonderful sushi place, try Moshi-Moshi on 18th and Sansom, right across from Di Bruno’s, next to Sue’s Produce Market.)