On my trip to Tokyo last year, I had an epiphany when I had the privilege of dining at Sukiyabashi Jiro (すきやばし 次郎) for the first time. At the time I said it was the "best fucking sushi I've ever had", and I knew then that everything would be downhill from there. A few days later I was totally unimpressed with my lunch at Sushi Mizutani (鮨 水谷), and sure enough, it was downgraded by Michelin from three stars to two at the end of last year.
Naturally I wanted to go back to Jiro on this trip, but somehow we just had a lot of trouble getting a reservation through our usual (yup, Amex is pretty useless) channels. Finally I asked a friend with connections to help out, and in the end he managed to get me just one seat at lunch, for myself.
I can't even begin to describe the comments I got from my jealous friends, who were clearly miffed that they were left out in the cold. I would have gladly offered my seat to the Great One so that she could have a chance to try it, except that I was told that this reservation came about as a favor from the restaurant...
So I checked out of the Mandarin Oriental Tokyo and moved myself to the Peninsula Tokyo, because the reservation came about thanks to the concierge team there. It was in the middle of my discussions with the concierge when I made a horrible realization...
In addition to having a dress code, Sukiyabashi Jiro also requests that guests refrain from wearing strong perfume. Normally this wouldn't be a problem for me, as I'd stopped wearing any fragrances when I started drinking wine more than a decade ago. But while at the Mandarin Oriental this morning, I had applied some Bottega Veneta lotion provided by the hotel to my face. The scent was very, very strong. I was horrified at the thought of offending Jiro-san, so I scurried to the restroom to wash the lotion off my face. Alas, the Bottega Veneta shampoo and shower gel all carried the strong scent, so I was kinda screwed... Damn you, MO Tokyo!
I walked the short distance to the restaurant's location in Ginza, and arrived about twenty-some minutes before noon. The familiar sign was out front, informing customers that they were still getting ready and for people not to take any pictures. I go to the restroom again to try to wash the remnants of lotion off my face...
I finally decided to walk in about a quarter to twelve. After checking my jacket and bag, I was led to my seat at the counter. I set my white balance quickly using the warm, white hand-towel, and I was ready to eat.
Yoshikazu (禎一), Jiro's eldest son who has been groomed to succeed him, came out. I was the only customer at this point, and he quickly put the first piece of sushi in front of me.
So I guess Jiro-san isn't in the house today. I had heard that he wasn't in the restaurant several days ago, and that usually only happens when he's not feeling well. Maybe he hasn't recovered.
But he doesn't. He immediately starts to serve the other customers, who arrived after I did, but my sushi is still made by Yoshikazu.
At first I felt a little upset. Why was I the only one not getting served by Jiro?! Yes, I was a gaijin customer with a big camera, but I was quiet, polite, spoke Japanese, and followed the dress code of the restaurant. There were four other gaijins at the other end who were wearing jeans and T-shirts. Why did they get better treatment?!
I debated about whether or not I wanted to order more pieces (追加), because I was really pretty full. But in the end I couldn't resist...
I gotta be honest here... my lunch today wasn't as good as my dinner last year. It is clear that Yoshikazu isn't at the same level as his father, but then again, nobody else is. I don't think anyone expected that he would become as good as his father - it's the unfortunate fact of being the son of a legend and forever living in his shadow.
However, I was observing Jiro-san today and thought that even the man himself might be slipping a little... perhaps as a result of his health. After all, he is 89 pushing 90. I noticed that once in a while, he would leave stray grains of rice on the cutting board after molding the shari, which the assistant would clean up. I also wondered whether he still had his strength, as he seemed to require a few more presses with his fingers to put the neta and shari together.
In spite of all this, I felt privileged to have been able to pay father and son a second visit, and perhaps witness the baton being passed down to Yoshikazu. I hope I will have the good fortune of paying them more visits and watch father and son working side-by-side.
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