My Last Supper
I was given an assignment by a food writer to describe the last supper I would eat before my theoretical execution on death row. Generally, white Jewish kids who grew up on the outskirts of Philadelphia (also known as white suburbia) don’t usually end up on death row. I’m the guy who smokes a bowl and immediately tells a cop, “I’m high, don’t shoot!” Now, I reside in a friend’s living room in San Francisco. I’m not entirely convinced it’s any better than death row.
Sushi Azabu is tucked away in the basement of Greenwich Tavern just a couple short blocks from the Hudson River. I’m still not sure if it’s in West Village, Tribeca, or somewhere in between. However, I am convinced it’s one of those areas in Manhattan that no one actually knows what neighborhood it is so they just make it up depending on how they feel that day.
With one Michelin Star, Sushi Azabu is the best sushi I have ever indulged in. It was not only the flawlessly executed sushi, but the service by the man pictured above that contributed to the superb dining experience. He is the chef I would want to prepare and serve my last supper, Omakase. This Japanese word means, “It’s up to you” or commonly referenced as “Chef’s choice.”
The chef is essential to every aspect of creating and serving the sushi. Many dishes in other cuisines are simply prepared by a chef or line cook and delivered by a middleman. But the sushi chef is there to not only hand off each delicately crafted piece of sushi, but to provide instructions on the proper way to consume it. Not all fish should be bathed in soy sauce.
The fish was arguably some of the freshest fish I have ever eaten; swimming from across the world to my plate. Whether it was a Japanese fatty Blue Fin tuna, Scottish salmon, or a sun-bathing woman in St. Martin; they wanted to be looked at, touched, and eaten (Editor’s note: I do not speak for all fish or women). As a result of the fish’s happiness they were smooth, delicate, sweet, fatty, and absolutely delicious. The flow of service was impeccable. As each piece of sushi melted away in my mouth the next piece arrived. The dinner itself was a well-orchestrated performance, a balancing act of precision and timing.
