YUZU Kaiseki Excellence

 

It took me two years to make it to Yuzu Japanese Kitchen.

Two years.

Sounds incredible even to me, since I pride myself in seeking out the best Japanese food in town, as soon as it arrives in town.

But I have an excuse. (It’s a lame one, but I’m stickin’ with it.)

And that excuse is: Yuzu is located on Silverado Ranch Boulevard. Yeah, that Silverado Ranch Blvd. — the one located way southeast of the Strip; the one littered with poker bars and fast food franchises. The street that considers the South Coast Hotel and Casino a fun time anchor tenant. A restaurant wasteland so vast it makes Henderson seem like Napa Valley.

You normally couldn’t get me on Silverado Ranch with a shotgun in my mouth and promise of free foie gras, but my buddy Martin Koleff told me I had to try Chef Kaoru Azeuchi’s cuisine, so off we were — twice in two weeks — to see for ourselves.

Martin and Rie Koleff, you may recall, are something of a Japanese restaurant power couple in Las Vegas. They both are long time veterans of our hotel F&B scene, and Martin was instrumental in first putting Raku on the national map. These days they are both involved in bringing the Joy of Sake event to Las Vegas, and if there’s such a thing as a Japanese restaurant mafia in town, the Koleffs are the capo di tutti capi to numerous chefs and restaurateurs, many of whom are not as fluent in English as they are.

When Martin or Rie tells us we have to try someone’s food, we listen. Usually. Unless it’s on friggin’ Silverado Ranch Boulevard, where, truth be told, we thought Azeuchi-san’s chances of survival were slim. But survive he has, prospered even, in his almost-hidden haunt behind a car parts store.

He’s done it by doing what so many non-Japanese chefs are afraid or unwilling to do: food his way, writ small, night after night, until he his audience slowly finds him. (Chefs are always telling me how they just want to open a little place and serve their favorite dishes. Yeah right, I always think to myself. With a few exceptions, the only people with the guts to go small and be patient are Asians in general and Japanese cooks in particular.)

Yuzu may be small, but what it’s doing is a very big deal, indeed. It’s not strictly a sushi bar (although there is a small one), and it’s not an izakaya in the Raku or Izakaya Go mold. What it is is our most Japanese of restaurants. A place that could be right at home in a Shinjuku alleyway; a place serving food so true to the rhythms and tastes of Japan that it’s almost shocking when a gaijin walks through the door.

There are many reasons to go here, the passion of the chef and quality of the ingredients being first and foremost among them. The Food Gal® tells us the noodle and teriyaki bowls at lunch are first class, but if you really want to see Kaoru-san strut his stuff, you need to reserve in advance for one of his kaiseki meals.

For the uninitiated, kaiseki refers to a very specific form of Japanese dining. It is the haute cuisine of Japanese cooking — seasonal eating taken to the nth degree — a multi-course meal that combines the artistry of the chef with a myriad of ingredients, presentations and techniques. Everything (and we mean everything) from the garnishes to the plating is thought through and presented in a way to enhance every sense — visual, aromatic, taste, tactile — that goes into your enjoyment of the meal. Many of the elaborate garnishes are symbolic, and all of the recipes try to achieve a zen-like state of communion between the diner and the food.

In other words, it doesn’t get much more complicated or serene than a kaiseki meal, but in the right hands, it is a transporting experience — creating an almost blissful connection between chef, raw material and consumer. There is nothing like it in Western dining, although the elaborate tasting menus of Keller, Achatz, Humm and others pay homage to kaiseki, none of them achieve the transcendence of  the Japanese chefs, who have been at it centuries longer. (Americans are too busy doing cartwheels in the kitchen and padding your bill.) Azeuchi trained for 16 years as a kaiseki chef in Japan, even getting the honor of serving the Emperor, so, needless to say, you’re in good hands.

What you will get will always depend upon the season and the chef’s inspiration, but whatever path is chosen by the chef, it will no doubt be the most delicious Japanese food you’ve ever had.

Our dinner started with the appetizer platter above, containing everything from an ethereal poached egg with caviar to grilled barracuda to uni rice topped with red snapper. From there, we proceeded to a sashimi platter of lobster, striped jack and halfbeak that was the equal of anything you’ll find at Kabuto and Yui:

 

Then came the queen of all mushroom soups: a dobin-mushi matsutake broth containing pike conger, cabbage and shrimp:

It was a soup so startling in its deceptive, smoky simplicity that everyone at our table was shaking their heads in appreciation.

From there we progressed through six more courses, ranging from grilled ribbons of A-5 Miyazaki wagyu (wrapped around more ‘shrooms and wasabi), to a steamed dish (steamed scallop cake draped with a latticework of wheat gluten), to eel tempura, to a “vinegar dish” of seared mackerel that was a bracing combination of tart and smooth:

Each dish was a model of precision, and each left you hungry for more. A big deal is made of the rice dish, for good reason. Rie Koleff (who acted as our personal sake sommelier throughout the meal*) explained that rice always signifies the ending of the meal Japan. This dish was, like much Japanese food, subtle to the point of invisibility:

….but like much Japanese food, once you stop looking for in-your-face flavor, and start appreciating the nuances, you quickly find that you can’t stop eating it. I don’t think a simple bowl of rice and fish can taste any finer, or be found anywhere in Las Vegas.

Those nuances are the key to Japanese eating. I call it deceptive simplicity because you are always getting much more than meets the eye. Especially in a kaiseki meal. Here, you are treated to an education in the centuries-old traditions in the Land of the Rising Sun: the reverence for seafood, the harmony of vegetables and the keen awareness of the seasons. In a nutshell, everything that Las Vegas is not. This is eating as a form of secular religion, and if you’re open to the experience, you will be transported in a way that no other Western meal can match.

The kaiseki at Yuzu is not a formal affair. (You are on the outskirts of Hendertucky after all.)  Because Kaoru-san flies in many ingredients from Japan, it is necessary to book at least three days in advance. The price you want to spend determines how elaborate it’s going to get. The ten-course, sixteen dish affair we had runs about $175/pp, but for $50/pp you can get a fine introduction into one of the greatest dinners in all of Las Vegas. ELV’s meal was comped.

YUZU JAPANESE KITCHEN

1310 East Silverado Ranch Blvd.

Las Vegas, NV 89183

702.778.8889

http://www.yuzujapanesekitchen.com/

 

* There is a nice selection of sakes on hand but you will probably not get your own sake sommelier. Sometimes, it’s good to be king. ;-)

Food Fotos of the Week – Bruschetta (and more) at EATT

img_1320Not only is this the prettiest plate of food we’ve fotographed in the past week, it’s also one of the best uses of bread on the planet.

Bruschetta, burrata, candied tomatoes, and dribbles of vibrant pesto, and micro-basil to set them all off — it is an understated gem of simplicity, and the best way we know to highlight this island of excellence amidst the sea of mediocrity that is the west Sahara eating scene.

 Lezbee honest here: Is there anywhere else to eat between Rainbow Boulevard and Fort Apache? Not on Sahara there isn’t. Not if you want, fresh, healthy, chef-driven recipes that practically jump of the plate with their hyper-deliciousness.

Not if you want finely-tuned French for either lunch or dinner. (Mais oui, monsieur, Eatt Healthy Food is now open for lunch and dinner until 8:30 pm.) Not if you want some of the most beautiful food in Las Vegas.

Not if you’re looking for desserts that rival anything on the Strip — like this eye-popping pistachio dome with raspberry cream:

FYI: Every dessert we’ve had here has been fork-droppingly good. Only Sweets Raku can top these creations for ingenuity, eye appeal and awesomeness.

Nothing else off the Strip even comes close.

EATT HEALTHY FOOD

7865 West Sahara Ave.

Las Vegas, NV 89117

702.608.5233

http://eattfood.com/

Texas ‘Cue Quest – Part 3

(Smoked meat the way it’s supposed to be, at Snow’s)

Barbecue is the great equalizer. It’s the only American food that inspires $70,000 cars to line up next to $700 trucks to get the good stuff.

It is also the only food that can inspire yours truly to hit the road at 7:00 am to make a one hour drive to a speck of a town called Lexington, Texas to have barbecue for breakfast.

Even after making that bleary-eyed trek through foggy, central Texas flatlands at that ungodly hour, we were still late to the party:

 

 ….a party that commences but once a week, at 8 in the morning, at Snow’s.

That party goes on until the meat runs out (pretty darn fast, i.e. usually around noon) so arriving early is a must. Ever since both Texas Monthly and Calvin Trillin proclaimed it the best Texas barbecue in the world (in 2008), Snow’s has been the place to get Central Texas ‘cue. And even after being challenged by urban upstart Franklin’s, its ranking (now #4 according to @TMBBQ‘s  every-four-year survey), keeps it one of the toughest tickets in Tejas. Not bad for a joint that’s open for only four hours a week, and has only been open since 2003.

Was the cue worth the drive? And the wait? And the experience of it all?

Well, we’d have to say, yes, yes and really yes. The holy grail of barbecue is brisket, and Snow’s obviously calls on a higher power to achieve a heavenly bark and out-of-this-world succulence. The ribs (pictured at the top of the page) were so smokey they should’ve come with a FDA warning, and the loose-packed, wrinkled-skin, jalapeno sausages also stopped us in our tracks:

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As good as the food is, it’s the experience of standing in line at Snow’s that’s a once-in-a-lifetime event for ‘cue connoisseurs who don’t live in Texas. You’re there with folks just like yourself, folks who’ve driven quite a distance just to bathe in the smoke and bask in the food. The excitement in the air is as palpable as snap of those sausages. Even before we ate, we were asking our self if the food could possibly live up to the hype, and for the most part it did. (Only the dry, uninspiring pork steak, that we were told was THE thing to get, disappointed.)

Regarding those folks, you can tell that pretty much every one of them is either a dedicated barbecue hound (or stuck with someone who is), and waiting for forty-five minutes is a small price to pay for food this good.

Speaking of hounds, if there’s a first among equals among Texas ‘cue mavens, it would be Daniel Vaughn. As barbecue editor of Texas Monthly, he spends most of his waking hours thinking and writing about Texas barbecue, and as luck would have it, he was stationed in line at Snow’s right in front of us.  (For people who don’t live in Texas that last sentence raises a number of questions, such as: There is such a thing as a “barbecue editor”? Can a writer write about nothing but barbecue? Does a writer actually make a living writing about nothing but barbecue? And assuming all of those things to be true, why would Daniel Vaughn be a Snow’s at 8 am on a Saturday morning with his two kids?)

The answers are: yes, apparently yes in Texas, absolutely yes in Texas, and apparently he was on a busman’s holiday. As you can see from his Twitter feed, Daniel Vaughn loves barbecue like a Kardashian loves cameras.

(Son, there are three important things in life: family, friends, and fatty brisket)

45 minutes also goes very quickly when you’re chewing the fat with someone like Vaughn, and in between him stopping to do star turns with 80-something pitmistress Miss Tootise, we got to ask him a few questions. First of all, we wanted to know what made Franklin’s so of-the-moment, and he had a ready answer: “Aaron (Franklin) brought Central Texas barbecue to the big city, and his biggest contribution was making it consistent. When you go there you always know you’re going to get an excellent brisket that’s as good as the last time you were there,” he said. We also agreed that the rise of social media had a lot to do with the Franklin phenomenon (“FOMO -fear of missing out,” he called it), and that San Francisco is to barbecue what Tony Bennett is to line dancing.

We finished at Snow’s around 9:30 and needed to reset our digestive systems for our next conquest. And the 40 minute drive over to Louie Mueller – family owned and operated since 1949 — was the perfect respite before our second bbq breakfast.

Like Smitty’s the day before, Louie Mueller looks like a dump. But inside it is actually quite pleasant, in a 1950s time warp sort of way. You order at a counter, and joke around with the staff if you get there before the lines form, but form they will, especially after 11:00 am.

LM consistently ranks in the top 5  joints in the state for good reason: it’s fantastic. More of a polished operation than Smitty’s or Snow’s, it’s every bit their equal when it comes to top quality ‘cue.

 Damnation…what a sandwich! Crusty, smoky and moist, it pulled apart with barely a nudge, and needed only a smidge of stewed onions on top (and a raw one with pickles on the bottom) to accentuate its beefiness. If ever there was a piece of brisket that didn’t need barbecue sauce, this was it. Eat your heart out, Kreuz.

There was plenty to love about everything at Louie Mueller (their jalapeno barbecue sauce was the best of the trip) and if I had to pick a single barbecue restaurant to eat in for the rest of my days, this would probably be it.

Man does not live by barbecue alone, of course, so we took off after Mueller for a side trip through the Texas Hill Country (beautiful) to the charming town of Fredericksburg. Aside from checking out the National Museum of the Pacific War, we didn’t spend a lot of time there, but it was quite a bit larger than we expected, and a genuine destination in its own right, teeming with galleries, shops, restaurants and wine bars. In some ways, it reminded me of downtown Nantucket, minus the ocean, the boats, the cobblestones, and the seafood. Nantucket in the middle of Texas? Who knew?

Culture can only sustain you for so long, so soon enough, back to barbecue hunting we were. And by “barbecue hunting” I mean it was time to hit Austin, and see what the city slickers were up to.

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Micklethwait Craft Meats doesn’t look like a citified operation — it being nothing more than a barrel smoker and a trailer in a parking lot. As with Franklin’s (its competition down the street), the line forms early. Unlike Franklin’s (which has gotten the whole Anthony Bourdain/Jon Favreau treatment), the line is manageable. In our case we got there right when it opened, and as with Snow’s, it took us about 40 minutes to get our plate of grub.

And what a plate it was: wonderful poppy seed slaw, first rate pinto beans, ribs, brisket and sausage that were all stellar.

(Even the house-made pickle was impressed)
“It’s more chef-y than many other barbecue joints,” one of our Texas ‘cue confidants had told us. And so it was. And so was everything from the peppery bbq sauce to that pecan pie that was worth the wait all by itself. But what really stood hoof and shoulders above the other cuts was the kielbasa — a sausage of uncommon pork, beef, spice, cure and peppery compaction:
It was the sausage of the trip, and a beautiful expression of how a thoughtful chef can hew to tradition and still improve upon it.

About the only disappointment at Micklethwait was the pulled pork — it being mushy, poorly-pulled and bland. Word to the wise: When you want a pulled pork sandwich in Texas, head to the Carolinas.

There were no disappointments at our final stop, however.

Everything was just about perfect at Freedmen’s. The service was fast (it’s more of a sit-down restaurant), the food came quick (but was obviously sliced to order), and they were playing old 60s rock instead of one gawdawful Willie Nelson tune after another. It describes itself as a laid back lounge and beer garden serving barbecue and retro-inspired cocktails, and that about sums it up. We didn’t partake of any libations, but the bar looked serious. The ‘cue (pictured above) took a backseat to none of our previous six places, and the ribs might’ve been the best overall for pure, sweet-smoked porkiness. (If they’re not the best, they’re a close second to Louie Mueller.) Freedmen’s even smokes their banana pudding here. How smoky-cool is that?

The trouble with eating great barbecue (or great anything for that matter), is that it spoils you for anything else.  Smoked meat is a tradition in Central Texas. It’s a tradition that has morphed into a secular religion, in part because  so many people want to worship at the altar of artisanal foods, made by dedicated craftsmen, that respects the ingredient, the process and the history of what is being served. (Part of the resurgent popularity, no doubt, is the price. It’s something of a miracle that $30 gets two people a mountain of food at any of these places.)

If three days of ‘cue immersion taught me one thing it’s that it’s impossible to make barbecue this good — whether you’re in Los Angles or Long Island — unless you respect and learn from the traditions that made it great. Austin’s young guns are doing this. Would that other barbecue restaurants in America would try to as well.

The meats:

Best pork ribs – Louie Mueller; Runner up – Freedmen’s

Best brisket – Snow’s; Runner up – Louie Mueller

Best sausage – Micklethwait Craft Meats; Runner up (tie) – Kreuz and Snow’s

Best beef ribs – Black’s

Best sandwich – Brisket at Louie Mueller

The sides:

Best slaw – Micklethwait Craft Meats

Best pie – Micklethwait Craft Meats’ pecan pie

Best pudding – Smoked banana pudding at Freedmen’s

Best cobbler – Peach at Louie Mueller

Best sauce (tie) – Jalapeno at Louie Mueller and house-made at Micklethwait

The incidentals:

Best smokehouse – Smitty’s

Best restaurant atmosphere – Black’s

Best music – Freedmen’s

Best line to wait in – Snow’s

Best breakfast drive – From Lexington (Snow’s) to Taylor (Louie Mueller)

Best guy to get pre-trip Texas barbecue advice from – Jeff Meeker

Best guy to wait in line behind – Daniel Vaughn

Best person to take on a Texas ‘cue quest for his 32nd birthday – Hugh Alexander Curtas

(Breakfast time is the right time for a birthday beer at Snow’s)