sushi
I've managed to eat sushi twice in the last two days. Yesterday was at Feng Sushi in Borough Market, which used to be a regular lunch spot of mine when I worked right above it. I was back visiting my old colleagues and partaking of our traditional spread of vegetable tempura, yellowtail sashimi, edamame, mackerel and salmon. It's all good, reliable stuff, and the staff are lovely, but what I really wanted was my quintessential London sushi experience at Kulu Kulu on Brewer Street, so today a trip down to Piccadilly gave me the perfect excuse to treat myself.
One of the great things about conveyor-belt sushi is you feel absolutely happy and normal eating there on your own. Kulu Kulu is typically London in that none of the staff or chefs are actually Japanese. A mix of Vietnamese, Malay, Korean, black British and what looked today to be a Hispanic of some sort turn out fantastic, cheap, fresh sushi and the assorted other items made from the offcuts of the fish, such as tempura of the tails and salmon skin maki, along with deep-fried chicken wings and other classic conveyor-belt fare. You can see them making everything, and I turn into a bit of a fanatic watcher of the conveyor belt, tracking down the fresh plates as they get turned out and following them round with my eyes until they are within my reach.
The best thing they do are their tempura prawn, salmon and avocado hand rolls. These are something where freshness and immediacy are absolutely of the essence - the whole thing reminding me rather of my father's description of Bacon du Bedat sandwiches in his book (sorry, another plug). The prawn should be freshly deep-fried, still warm but left to drain on kitchen towel just long enough so that not a hint of oil remains. The salmon should be slippery cold. The nori paper should be crispy, meaning the roll can't be left around long enough for the nori to get soggy.
I watched and waited as a plate of tempura prawns were pushed through the hatch. The sushi chefs were still at work on a huge batch of salmon, slicing and packing it into boxes for the different grades. I waited, drinking my green tea, snacking on cucumber rolls. Finally, one of them wiped down his board and his knife, laid out half a dozen strips of nori and assembled the rolls. I watched him put two plates onto the conveyor and prayed that no-one else had been paying attention. Success! I got the very first plate as it came within my reach. That first bite was absolute heaven. I made myself eat the roll slowly, savoring every mouthful of crispy tempura, succulent warm prawn, cool salmon and creamy avocado wrapped in tender rice and crunchy nori, resistant to the bite. A gulp of green tea and I was ready to face yet more Christmas shopping.
One of the great things about conveyor-belt sushi is you feel absolutely happy and normal eating there on your own. Kulu Kulu is typically London in that none of the staff or chefs are actually Japanese. A mix of Vietnamese, Malay, Korean, black British and what looked today to be a Hispanic of some sort turn out fantastic, cheap, fresh sushi and the assorted other items made from the offcuts of the fish, such as tempura of the tails and salmon skin maki, along with deep-fried chicken wings and other classic conveyor-belt fare. You can see them making everything, and I turn into a bit of a fanatic watcher of the conveyor belt, tracking down the fresh plates as they get turned out and following them round with my eyes until they are within my reach.
The best thing they do are their tempura prawn, salmon and avocado hand rolls. These are something where freshness and immediacy are absolutely of the essence - the whole thing reminding me rather of my father's description of Bacon du Bedat sandwiches in his book (sorry, another plug). The prawn should be freshly deep-fried, still warm but left to drain on kitchen towel just long enough so that not a hint of oil remains. The salmon should be slippery cold. The nori paper should be crispy, meaning the roll can't be left around long enough for the nori to get soggy.
I watched and waited as a plate of tempura prawns were pushed through the hatch. The sushi chefs were still at work on a huge batch of salmon, slicing and packing it into boxes for the different grades. I waited, drinking my green tea, snacking on cucumber rolls. Finally, one of them wiped down his board and his knife, laid out half a dozen strips of nori and assembled the rolls. I watched him put two plates onto the conveyor and prayed that no-one else had been paying attention. Success! I got the very first plate as it came within my reach. That first bite was absolute heaven. I made myself eat the roll slowly, savoring every mouthful of crispy tempura, succulent warm prawn, cool salmon and creamy avocado wrapped in tender rice and crunchy nori, resistant to the bite. A gulp of green tea and I was ready to face yet more Christmas shopping.
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