It is a quiet, cold weekday fall afternoon. Yet somehow sushi beckons. The beau's eyes gleam wickedly and my spirits rise. The beau only wants the best sushi so we head to sushiDOKKU for a late lunch splurge. The first thing I notice when we arrive is the Uni Flight advertised on their specials board. 

The special uni flight intrigues me and I ask the chef to tell me more about it. The flight features two kinds of uni from Maine and Peru. 

"The Maine uni is like the Japanese uni from Hokkaido, up in the north where the waters are colder," the chef explains. "That's why the pieces are smaller. The Peruvian uni is like the Santa Barbara uni, much larger and sweeter." 

I wonder about these new geographical locations that are probably not so new to sushi chefs and others in the know. Until recently, I had never thought to ask about where the uni comes from and how that might affect their flavor. Then, about two years ago, in the space of one month, two different sushi chefs offered me uni from Hokkaido. That is when I learned that much of the uni​ in sushi restaurants comes from Santa Barbara. 

The uni​ comes beautifully nestled in artfully cut slices of cucumber. I see the differences immediately, plump, smooth, pale Peruvian uni versus the smaller, slightly shriveled and darker hued Maine uni. Peruvian and Santa Barbara sea urchins enjoy warmer waters, a nicer climate, and more sunlight. The cold, icy waters of northern climates make survival more of a struggle and it shows. The warm weather girl in me prefers the Peruvian and Santa Barbara varieties with their lush, creamy, dense textures and sweeter finishes. But the northern species also delight my palate with stronger flavors and brinier finishes. 

The beau always shivers upon seeing uni and I remember the first time he tried it over 10 years ago. "Roadside ditch sewage," he proclaimed after choking it down with pure revulsion. Uni definitely saves itself for more adventurous palates with its profane flavors of burnt rubber and ocean sludge. I did not acquire the taste for uni until my late teens even though I grew up eating sushi. 

And yet the beau still struggles to acquire the taste for uni so I always offer him a taste. He tentatively digs his chopsticks into the Maine uni and pulls out a teeny, tiny gob. His face scrunches up in pure revulsion as he nibbles for a bit and then washes down the hateful taste with a half glass of water and a huge swig of Sapporo. 

"I can taste the quality," he declares once he clears his palate with another swig of beer and a sip of sake. "But," he shakes his head, still shivering at the memory of the horrific flavor, "I just can't..."

"Try the Peruvian uni," I urge. "It should be milder than the Maine one."

He shakes his head. No, no, and no. No.

I happily dig in, sampling the Maine uni first. Strong notes of brine and ocean with hints of burnt rubber and ocean sewage hit my tongue and I savor the lighter texture that makes the Maine uni similar to Hokkaido uni. Part of me wishes the flight offered Hokkaido uni so I could compare them. The Maine uni seems a bit milder than the Hokkaido uni from what I can remember. The same is true of the Peruvian uni in relation to its Santa Barbara counterpart, also milder and a notch less creamy and sweet. I revel in the mouth feel of the Peruvian uni as the briny creaminess coats my tongue and throat. Yum. 

I am curious about the sourcing of these new regions for uni. Sea urchins are found all over the world so what is it about Santa Barbara and Hokkaido that made them the main sources for uni? Perhaps, this last question reveals my complete ignorance about the industry that farms or gathers sea urchins  to sell to sushi and seafood restaurants around the world. I regret not asking the chef more in-depth questions but hopefully, sushiDOKKU or another sushi restaurant will offer an uni ​flight in the near future. 

The minute Kai Zan opened its doors in Humboldt Park in 2012 it took the Chicago sushi scene by storm, at least from what I could tell. The beau and I lived a few blocks away back then and we would walk there in the hopes of scoring a couple sushi bar seats. And each time we encountered a mob of eager diners blocking the front door. It was so crowded that I never even saw the inside.

My efforts to secure a reservation also failed as the restaurant was booked for months in advance. Then life got in the way. The beau's elderly mom fractured her pelvis and steadily descended into dementia. We eventually moved away from Humboldt Park to the modernist complex where she lived in the Gold Coast. We quickly discovered Mirai, a cozy place where we could grab a sushi bar seat almost anytime.  Kai Zan faded into the recesses of my memory as I eagerly tried other local sushi restaurants.  

But I never forgot Kai Zan. Everyone I spoke to who had dined there, raved about the sushi, the food, and the ambiance. Every so often, I would make a a reservation and the stars would not align. One time we had to cancel our reservation to take the beau's mom to the emergency room. Another time I had to work late to meet yet another sudden and unreasonable deadline for a client at my last job. I really regretted that one because that job let me go a few months later, making my Kai Zan sacrifice for naught.

Good things do come to those who wait. Eventually the stars aligned on a perfect summer night where the beau and I found ourselves near Kai Zan. Our server recommended the omakase menu but a quick glance made me a bit skeptical. I immediately noticed the lack of nigiri style sushi and the high ratio of cooked menu items to raw fish items. The beau prefers nigiri and I prefer items with fresh, raw ingredients. Most restaurants can cook good food but it takes special skill to serve raw fish.

But at $65 for 10 courses, the omakase menu seemed like a great deal and overall, most of the menu items excited me. Escolar and Maguro Pearls, Oyster and Scallop Shooters, a Fiesta Maki and Sashimi looked deliciously promising. Plus everyone I knew who had dined there raved about the omakase menu. So after a quick discussion, we went for it.

The first bite of the first course, Madai Carpaccio only deepened my obsession with Kai Zan. Madai, or red snapper, varies greatly in quality and can be rather ghastly if the quality is poor, with a scaly, squishy and generally unpleasant texture. For this reason, I never order madai and only eat it in a sushi set, or omakase menu.  

That first bite of madai revealed its previously unknown (to me) potential. I had never imagined that madai could melt on the tongue in the same way as hamachi, or yellowtail. Adding the finely diced toro was a stroke of genius that gave the madai some depth and richness. Olive oil, basil sprouts, black tobiko and what tasted like balsamic vinegar transformed me into a fan. I can't wait to go back and order madai old school nigiri style with just the slice of fish and rice. 

The courses came quickly, almost too quickly for my taste. Every time this happens, I find myself longing for the leisurely pace of dining in Italy where long breaks between courses let each course settle in while diners sip wine and chat. Only in America, where diners rather than employers pay the bulk of waitstaff wages, do I feel the pressure of their need to turn tables and maximize their income as a backlog of course dishes pile up on the bar. Sigh. Hopefully one day I will enjoy the equivalent of Kai Zan in Italy where I can slowly savor every delicious, heavenly bite of raw fish. 
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The unfortunate thing about the omakase menu was the large number of ho-hum cooked menu items we had to suffer through. Seared scallops, salmon with citrus glaze, tuna dashi broth with neck clams, charred shrimp and grilled octupus, and mussels settled into my stomach too quickly, leaving no room for the menu items we wanted to eat. 

I bade a sad goodbye to the Fiesta Maki and had our server immediately pack it to go. A glance at the sushi counter where the chefs served up gleaming trays of nigiri, sashimi and other delicacies confirmed my worst fears of a heaping plate of Sashimi. As the grand finale of the omakase menu, the Sashimi course drove home the utter gluttony of the experience. A 10-course meal should more than satisfy any appetite especially when it features over 4 different types of shellfish, not to mention truffle oil, tempura crunch, quail egg and mayo. 

My heart sank at the sigh of the gorgeous platter of sashimi that I could no longer enjoy. Beautiful slices of salon, maguro tuna, escolar, and yellowtail gleamed under the rustic lights beckoning in vain to my ruined appetite. The beau and I choked down a few slices of fish and had our server pack the rest to go.

"You can always cook it," said the chef working right in front of us behind the bar. He said it kindly, perhaps trying to console me that not all was lost. 

I shook my head vigorously at his suggestion. "Nope. It will make the perfect lunch for tomorrow," I told him. Day-old sushi is perfectly edible and always satisfies this sushi slut. At least I know what to order next time: old-school madai nigiri, sashimi and appetizers featuring raw fish and shellfish.  

Paleo anyone? Forget the fried rice noodles that add an unneeded crunch to a delectable Tuna Tartare appetizer. My foodie friend rightly insists on a photo op to capture the pretty plating. Once  the brief photo op ends, we bypass the noodles and eagerly plunge our chopsticks into the fresh, briny goodness of raw tuna, salmon roe and raw quail egg yolk. 

Each bite transports me to a Paleolithic fantasy land where humans enjoyed wholesome and clean foods straight from the oceans and forests. In this fantasy land, women forage for quail eggs, daikon sprouts and shiso leaves while men hunt and fish for tuna and salmon roe. Nature's abundance keeps Paleolithic humans lean, fit, healthy and happy without the need for modern food processing, preservation and storage technology that makes this dish possible.

I savor the way the roe pops in my mouth and imagine the first time a human tasted roe. That first taste must have been a bonanza to the famished Paleolithic human who likely gutted it on the spot in a frenzy of hunger. I doubt Paleolithic humans had much opportunity to enjoy anything resembling this Tuna Tartare appetizer, much less any food at all. Modern humans can thank those lean times for our natural preference for high-calorie, sugary, and fatty foods. These foods ensured our survival in the Paleolithic era. 
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Besides, the raw ingredients are the only thing that makes this dish Paleo. The finely diced tuna probably contains a bit of soy sauce for flavoring, and soy sauce contains processed soy and gluten, definite no-nos in Paleo diet world. And a hint of dairy may lurk in the tartare mix to add flavor and heighten the creamy richness for more deliciousness.  

Every bite in this dish makes me truly grateful for the luxuries of modernity. Food preservation technologies such as flash-freezing and refrigeration make eating raw fish and roe possible in the Midwest, thousands of miles away from the nearest ocean. And let us not forget the various and wonderful food preparation and cooking techniques that humans developed in the hundreds of thousands of years since humans first appeared on the Paleolithic scene.

That human creativity brings together different ingredients like tuna, salmon roe and quail eggs for a distinctively modern epicurean experience that our Paleolithic ancestors could only dream about.

I like to beat the winter blues with sushi. The delicate flavors and textures of cold, raw fish remind me of summer's happier times of beach yoga, free outdoor concerts at Millennium Park, rooftop happy hours, and lakefront jogging. In the meantime, my palate can pretend it is summer, even after wading through deep snow drifts and skirting muddy urban slush pools. 

Pure serendipity led me to discover this deal at Friends Sushi on State. On a late Saturday afternoon grocery shopping trip, the beau suddenly craves sushi but all his favorite sushi restaurants only open for dinner. Unlike me, the beau is not a sushi slut and refuses to settle for cheap Mariano's sushi. I remember the awesome $5 Temaki lunch special at Friends Sushi on State last summer so I take him there. 

Their menu offers some interesting riffs on my fave cuisine. A kale and quinoa Goma-ae catches my eye but I pass after a short discussion with the beau on dubious merits of quinoa and kale in Japanese cuisine. I am a sucker for kale but its dense texture and hearty earthy flavor makes the traditional spinach version a better choice. I also like quinoa but wonder what quinoa adds, other than extra carbohydrates, to an already, rather rich dish in my opinion.

We start out with shishito peppers and hamachi carpaccio, typical menu items that meet the beau's approval. (The beau laments the foodie trend that has spawned  menu items like kale and quinoa Goma-ae. I, on the other hand, remain curious and plan to order it sans the beau on my next visit.) While we wait, we watch the sous chef grate an odd looking radish and ask him what it is. Fresh wasabi, he tells us and hands us a small sample. It is much milder than I expected but still delicious. 

The sauce in hamachi carpaccio tastes a bit sweet for me but the beau tries a bite with some daikon radish sprouts and informs me that the sauce works. The tangy bitterness of the sprouts tempers the sweetness and rounds out hamachi's soft, mild flavor. This hamachi carpaccio is a nice alternative to the ubiquitous hamachi and jalapeño appetizers served in sushi and other restaurants with fusion cuisine. 

I should have heeded this diet advice but the kale and beetroot in this dish looked so enticing. Kale truly deserves its status as a wonder food but I remain skeptical about its place in Japanese cuisine after trying this dish. The dense, earthy kale clashed with the sharp tartness of the wasabi sauce, a sauce whose heat nearly blew out my tongue during several bites. And I can eat fresh jalapeños with the seeds sans fear.  The fried beetroot added a fun, though superfluous, crunch to the dish. Scallops, like raw fish, taste best on their own, sans creamy sauces and fried crumbles, a travesty that runs rampant in Westernized sushi. 
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I still ate the entire dish despite the dissonant flavors. So much for curbing those free radicals but I could not pass up otherwise perfectly cooked scallops and kale.  When the manager cleared my plate, she asked me how it was and I told her what I really thought. Perhaps bok choy leaves might work better. She thanked me and handed me several coupons to pass out to friends. The coupons are offering 20% off a dine-in tab for February. 

Another great deal that I hope to catch. Any sushi-loving friends who happen to be in the Chicago area can PM me for a coupon. 

I love seeing food pictures from overseas friends on Facebook. The pictures give me a glimpse of exotic food experiences from around the globe. One friend who is originally from Japan but now lives in Shenzhen, China, snapped this picture of the most delectable, mouth-watering sashimi slices from a restaurant in Hong Kong.

Perhaps the sushi burrito will fill up skinny, poor Daniel up for less than $20. The sushi burrito gleefully supersizes temaki, or maki handrolls, into a monstrous mess of crazy ingredients and soggy nori that falls apart at the first bite. But American supersized appetites created this travesty of a trend that even has Starbucks (!) cashing in with a new menu item: the Chicken Maki Roll.

​Thankfully, Friends Sushi on State offers sushi fans on tight budgets a much better alternative: 1/2 price on selected temakis until the end of August. Instead of cramming 3 different types of fish into one giant maki, sushi fans can enjoy 3 different temakis for $15. The best part: crispy and dry nori that adds a nice crunch to every bite without the heavy grease of tempura crumbles. The chef really nails the nori at this place.

Even better, the chef uses nice, whole slices of fish instead of chopping up finely for their Spicy Salmon and Negi-Hamachi temakis. Most places usually finely dice the hamachi so that it blends better with the scallions but I enjoyed biting into that lovely piece of hamachi and tasting little bursts of scallion.

This deal offers a great value that beats a soggy, supersized sushi burrito any day. Hopefully Friends Sushi on State continues this deal past August 30 but I will not blame them if they decide to end the deal. At $5 per temaki with raw fish ingredients, this deal likely hurts their bottom line in the long run.

And thus, ends an email from my friend Lisa T. announcing the news of RA Sushi closing its Chicago location. ​I greet the news with mixed feelings. On the one hand, their budget-friendly sushi happy hour made this restaurant a great place to imbibe some beer and sake and nosh on sushi with good friends. On the other hand, the quality could not compete with surrounding area restaurants offering top notch fish and sushi chefs. And I grew tired of the same happy hour menu items and the increasingly slow service, opting to try different places for happy hour. So did my friends, perhaps taking RA Sushi for granted like I did because "this place has been open forever."

I remember shuddering a bit when my friend forwarded RA Sushi's email announcing Sushi Brunch sometime in spring last year. I love sushi and I love brunch but these two cuisines seem diametrically opposed. Sushi features light, fresh textures and umami flavors that stand best on their own, sans the Western addition of tempura crumbles, aioli and other such caloric horrors. Sushi is such a delicate and beautiful cuisine so why ruin it with brunch's heavy and rich ingredients?

But being the sushi slut that I am, I could not pass up an opportunity to sample RA Sushi's attempt to blend sushi and brunch. One item, the Bloody Mary Duo, met the challenge head-on with a pairing of their Premium Bloody Mary cocktail with a Bloody Mary Maki. The cocktail contained wasabi and sake for a Japanese twist on my favorite brunch beverage. And at $14, it seemed like a great deal.

The restaurant was quiet and mostly empty when my friends and I arrived at noon. Not a good sign, but not surprising either, given the challenge of serving sushi for brunch. We ordered the Bloody Mary Duo, Smoked Salmon Tamago Roll, the Tuna Shishito and the Spicy Lobster Roll. 

The Premium Bloody Mary came with a hefty and artfully arranged garnish of cucumber slices, olives, a whole asparagus spear, a slice of bacon, a celery stalk, a grape tomato and shrimp. The garnish provided a perfect mini-feast of goodies to munch on while waiting the ice to melt and thin out a too thick Bloody Mary. Once the ice melted, the wasabi added a fun alternative to horseradish and I enjoyed the botanical fragrance from the sake. 

Alas, the Bloody Mary Maki did not excite me even though the cocktail pairing worked well enough. Aside from the Sriracha mayo sauce, the Bloody Mary Roll was nothing more than the garnish wrapped in rice and nori, sans the olives. I regretted falling for a "great deal" and wished I had ordered the Tamagoyaki, "RA's spin on a Japanese omelet," instead. Bloody Marys always compliment rich egg dishes for brunch. The same cannot be said for sushi, which pairs much better with sake or wine.

That was the first and last time I tried RA Sushi's brunch. I regretted not trying the Tamagoyaki but have since been to Japan and enjoyed the real deal with relatives in Hiroshima. My relatives smiled and nodded politely when I told them about sushi brunch but ever-so-slight shudders gave them away. 

Lesson Learned: Sushi and brunch do not mix. Now I can only hope another nearby sushi restaurant adds a budget-friendly happy hour. How about it, Friend's Sushi on State?

Last time I checked, sushi-grade yellowtail amberjack went for $22 a pound. For the lunchtime sushi crowd that feasts in 30 minutes increments and usually eats at their desk, the price was too prohibitive to serve yellowtail sushi even though it was on their menu. Instead, escolar, or the infamous snake mackerel that can cause gastrointestinal distress replaced their the fish for the Negi-Hamachi roll on their menu.

But that was years ago and I no longer frequent lunch sushi as part of my daily routine. Instead, I freelance these days and eat many of my lunches at home. It's nice to save time dressing and commuting to work on a 9-5 schedule. It does mean much, much less sushi consumption and, as a result, not enough activity on this blog. 

Still, as an avid sushi slut, I am always on the lookout for new flavors and new sushi-type offerings at other eateries. My latest adventure took place at the Little Beet Table, a "healthy" foodie destination in the Gold Coast offering craft cocktails and a smattering of fusion-like food. Alas, the Little Beet Table tries a  bit too hard to make healthy food cutting edge. Most of its menu are healthier remakes of global favorites and seasonal comfort food, such as sweet pea guacamole and a Japanese pumpkin soup with creme fraiche.

The Hamachi Crudo is just another delicious remake of a standard in most sushi restaurants: Hamachi or Yellowtail with jalopeno slices and chive oil. The red pepper chili flakes give the dish an extra heat dimension that somehow, luckily does not overpower the delicate flavor of the Yellowtail. Overall, I find the dish mostly successful, except for the mandarin orange slices, which make the dish too sweet. The mandarin orange slices work much better as a chaser to the savory fish-jalopeno combination.

Alas, I doubt I will return to the Little Beet Table before it closes. It's a bit of a shame because I like the ambiance and the craft cocktails look promising. I have been here 2 times and so far have not seen a decent or substantial enough crowd that would make this place sustainable for the State Street rent. Also, both times the service has been a bit slow and erratic even though there were only 3 tables in the entire restaurant. That's always a bad sign because the servers are so checked out from not making ends meet after such a bare shift. 

Nothing beats the the fresh and delicate flavor and texture of raw fish. The flesh almost melts with every bite, releasing notes of ocean and kelp that make eating raw fish such a primal experience. It is easy to forget that modern technology makes it possible to eat a raw albacore tuna caught almost halfway around the world. The miracle of flash freezing allows people like me to entertain idyllic notions about the pure unprocessed nature of raw fish. 

Good chefs pair raw fish slices with ingredients that enhance the freshness and make the fish flavor pop. The Bin Cho appetizer at Mirai Sushi Gold Coast pictured above pretty much sets the gold standard for the treatment of raw fish. Lightly seared albacore tuna rests on a neat bed of arugula, daikon radish and carrot slices with scallions and a special mild sauce with hints of citrus and black pepper. Earthy arugula balances out the natural saltiness of the albacore and blend with the scallions for added dimension.

The chef strongly discourages adding soy for good reason: it is not needed. The blunt saltiness of the soy would overpower the mild elements of this dish and potentially clash with the arugula. Less really is more when it comes to enjoying this brilliant dish that brings out the true essence of raw albacore.