There was sticky rice everywhere: it had appended itself to my arms and had covered my palms and the backs of my hands entirely. I later found grains even on my elbows — heaven knows how they’d gotten there. No, this wasn’t a nightmare: I wasn’t drowning in sticky rice. Nor was I getting an exotic Japanese skin rejuvenating treatment. I looked up in despair from my messy work station to see chef Tomoyuki Yoshinaga smiling at me from behind his pristine canvas. A beautifully-rolled sake (salmon) roll sat in the middle of his cutting board, ready to be served. There was not a grain out of place. It was a work of art — sticky rice and sesame seeds rolled over nori (seaweed sheet), another layer of rice, a dash of wasabi and succulent strips of salmon. “Oh, well,” I said resignedly as I wiped the rice off my arms, dipped my hands in a bowl of water, and got ready to make an akami (lean tuna) roll. I was at Wasabi by Morimoto (sushi rolling session: Rs 4,000 plus taxes per person; 011-66566162, tajhotels.com) at the Taj Mahal Hotel, being taught by very patient chefs how to roll sushi.

Sushi master Jiro Ono once said, “When we have good tuna, I feel great. While making the sushi, I feel victorious” (Jiro Dreams of Sushi, 2011). I believe you, Jiro shokunin (artisan). Those with an inadequate appreciation of sushi delights may wonder why such a hue and cry is made about raw fish and rice. I myself belonged to that group until not long ago. But as delicious as sushi is, it’s also complex. A lot of deliberation goes into the making of the perfect sushi: the quality and freshness of the fish, the cut of the fish, the hocho (fish knives) used to prepare the fish, the temperature of the rice… And if you become an apprentice to Jiro shokunin, ten years of your life will go into just learning how to prepare sushi.

Earlier that day, chef Nilesh Dey from Wasabi had given me the low-down on the ingredients used in Japanese cuisine. By the end of the chat, I had tasted five different kinds of soy, shibazuke (pickles), a white vegetarian nori, seaweed in different forms and myoga (Japanese ginger). My tongue was pulsating with the riot of flavours, and there was more to come.

We sat down at a table in the well-appointed interiors of Wasabi. Laid out in front of us, on a wooden platter decorated with edible flowers, was an array of sushi — nigiri, uramaki and futomaki — and sashimi arranged at a 45-degree angle, which, as chef Yoshinaga told me, made it easier for chopstick wielders to pick up sushi. Freshly-ground wasabi, a fragrant soy and gari (pickled ginger) in place, we dug into our meal — and that’s when we discovered the fine contours of what makes a good sushi. For sure, I fumbled with my chopsticks and splashed a bit of soy around, but my chopsticks sensei, Yashas, waved away my apologies and egged me on. A piece of ebi tempura maki (prawn tempura roll) dipped in a mixture of soy and wasabi in my mouth, and my clumsiness with the chopsticks was forgotten. The crunch of the prawn tempura and sesame seeds, mixed with the saltiness of the soy and the pungent potency of the wasabi sent me to sushi heaven. A sushi parade of salmon, tuna, squid, scallop, o-toro (fatty tuna) and prawn, followed by scallop, tuna and salmon sashimi melted in my mouth in quick succession. A sliver of gari found its way to my mouth as I sighed in pleasure and felt I could do this everyday.

And for seven days I did.

Our journey started at Guppy by Ai (meal for two: Rs 3,000; 011-24690005, olivebarandkitchen.com). Yashas, my partner in crime, and I had stared at each other in apprehension while contemplating the task at hand: seven sushi meals in seven days. “Well, I’m ready,” is all we both had to say as we took small sips of chilled Kiku Masumune Taru (sake), nibbled at sea salt-coated edamame (soya bean pods) and avoided eye contact.

The décor at Guppy is extravagantly cheerful; pastels, anime and paper mache dominate the interiors. Streams of sunlight waft into the cool interior through windows that look out onto the Jor Bagh market. The courtyard (my favourite spot) is dominated by a huge frangipani tree and done up in the same theme. Energised by the contemporary Japanese interiors, we turned our attention to the food. On our table was a mixed sushi platter, sashimi platter, the Chirashi seafood salad and miso. And so began the chopsticks chronicles. While Yashas showed off his prowess with his chopsticks, I tried in vain to elegantly lift a piece of nigiri with my fork. Chef Khatri, however, ended my agony and said that it was alright to pick up nigiri with one’s fingers. My dodgy implements put aside, I got to the task of devouring the melt-in-the-mouth smoked yellowtail, tuna and salmon nigiri — my favourites until the chef brought out, with much panache, two pieces of something-like-salmon nigiri and a blow torch.

But isn’t sushi supposed to be prepared with only raw fish? That’s a common misconception, I was assured. The chef lightly seared the top of what we discovered was the limited edition salmon belly, and served it to us. I put the warm nigiri in my mouth and felt it melt like butter — the flavours were astonishing.

Our next stop was the all-time favourite Yum Yum Tree (meal for two: Rs 2,500; 011-42602020, theyumyumtree.in). The first conveyor-belt sushi restaurant in the city, Yum Yum Tree was also the first to bring ‘affordable’ sushi to Delhiites. That price consideration came with a trade-off with authenticity, but the sushi tastes great nonetheless. Tuesdays and Thursdays see the restaurant packed with mostly youngsters availing of the unlimited sushi and watermelon mojito package. The unlimited sushi we could avoid, but the watermelon mojitos found their way to us. Another USP of the restaurant, we discovered, was the vegetarian rolls, of which we ordered a huge platter. And it was in that platter that the carnivore in us was laid to rest, at least for that night. Slightly tipsy on my second glass of watermelon mojito, and full of dutch courage, I picked up my chopsticks, and savoured the mushroom roll, asparagus tempura sushi and the cucumber, carrot and asparagus nigiri. We ended the meal with the refreshing coconut and caramel ice cream.

We were already on a sushi high, but the omakase at threesixtyone (omakase: Rs 11,000 plus taxes and alcohol per person; 0124-2451234, oberoihotels.com), took us even higher. Omakase means ‘I’ll leave it to you’ — you entrust yourself to the chef’s selection — and so we did. While we sat admiring the view of the pool’s waters shimmering in the sunlight, the chefs were putting together a meal of wonders for us. At the sushi bar, golden plates laden with mozukusu (seaweed cooked in vinegar and sugar; tastes a bit like a sweet-and-sour mango chutney), cabbage rolls, chicken yakitori, potato salad and salted dried eel were placed in front of us. “They eat potato salad in Japan?” I asked the chef. Evidently, it’s the favoured snack with beer.

The three keys to a good meal, it’s said, are presentation, presentation and presentation. On that count, the dried ice sashimi show at the Oberoi was a winner. In front of us was a smoking cold display of salmon, o-toro, scallop and octopus sashimi — our second course — accompanied by freshly-ground wasabi — the best we’d had.

This was followed by an assorted tempura platter, miso marinated black cod, chicken teriyaki, buri daikon (yellowtail cooked in a tamarind and daikon sauce) — my favourite —  a yummy nigiri and maki roll platter, miso, and the subtly-flavoured green tea ice cream (a must-try). The meal lasted over three hours and saw us consuming several glasses of white wine and beer each.

Chef Masaharu Morimoto once told me that sushi could only become affordable in Indi if the government were to reduce the excise and duties levied on fish. But it looks like Sakae Sushi (meal for two: Rs 2,000; 011-33036670) has found a way around it. Tucked away in a corner of Ambience Mall in Vasant Vihar is this conveyor-belt-sushi restaurant. Part of the popular Sakae Sushi family from Singapore, the restaurant serves a host of Japanese dishes and some south-east Asian delicacies as well. The ceiling here is covered with koi fish, the walls with bamboo and wooden frogs (the Sakae mascot). Take the stairs up to the terrace in cooler weather for al fresco dining or book the private dining hall if you’re feeling extravagant. And if you’re lucky like us, you’ll get to eat your meal in the company of proprietor Chandrima Agarwal.

Chandrima’s aim was to bring sushi to the Indian masses without compromising quality. The sushi boat brought to us was laden with delicious hana maki (salmon and mayonnaise roll), maguro nigiri (lean tuna), salmon mentayaki rolls, ebi tempura rolls and sunshine rolls (mango and ebi cutlet). I washed the sushi down with a saketini, a mix of sake and vodka with a pickled onion. Next on the menu was an array of unusual Japanese dishes we had never tried —  seafood omu rice (seafood rice wrapped in an omelette covered in mayo), pork okonomiyaki (cabbage and pork pancake), the best prawn tempura we tasted, sashimi, tenderloin with soy mirin (Japanese wine used for cooking) sauce, and mini Japanese burgers (the chicken teriyaki burger is to die for). Wash this down with a watermelon caprioska and end the meal with the crispy date pancakes, and you’ll never want to leave.

But leave we did, only to be delighted the next day by the histrionics of the chefs at Benihana (meal for two: Rs 3,500; 011-26488884, benihanaindia.com). This teppanyaki and sushi restaurant is part of a large American chain. So far, we had enjoyed Japanese sushi, Indian sushi and Singaporean sushi. Would American sushi delight us? Would it be fried, or full of mayo? Both, we discovered. But before we moved on to the fried stuff, there was the healthful array to try — eel, seared salmon, red snapper and crab sashimi. That bridge crossed, bring on the fried stuff, I said. And while we were waiting, seated at the sushi/teppanyaki bar, two teppanyaki chefs put up quite a show, clinking and clanking away with their knives and spatulas.

Our sushi arrived amid the din of silverware.

We’d got the Benihana tempura roll, a specialty made with prawn, salmon, tuna and cucumber wrapped in sticky rice and nori, covered in panko (Japanese breadcrumbs), deep fried and sprinkled with a chatpatta masala — sushi pakoda — which made it ingenious and delicious. This was followed by the healthful Trio Seasons roll (cucumber, carrots, asparagus and cream cheese — party snacks anyone?) and the Emperor roll (mango, salmon, tuna and prawn tempura), both of which were unusual and tasty. The meal ended with an assortment of desserts: cheesecake dumplings, ice cream tempura and green tea crème brule. The heaviest meal of the lot, I’d say, but well worth it.

Our last day. I had eaten only sushi for six days by now. The Tam-brahm in me was screaming out for thayir sadam and molaguttal. There was, however, one more restaurant to go: Sakura (brunch: Rs 2,600 per person; 011-42500200, hotelmetdelhi.com) at the Metropolitan. Sakura had gained a great reputation for its authentic Japanese dishes cooked by Japanese chefs in its heyday. What better way, I thought, to end this celebration of sushi than with a champagne brunch; the Sakura Sunday brunch it was. As we sat next to the floor-to-ceiling window and enjoyed the sunshine from the cool confines of the restaurant, to our table came sushi and sashimi. With sushi, freshness is everything, and the pre-rolled sushi served at brunch-time does little justice to Sakura’s well-earned reputation. We moved on to the crispy prawn, onion, peppers and lady’s finger tempura, which were all good. The brunch includes an assortment of appetizers (of which the renkon kimpira — lotus root — was my favourite) and mains such as okonomiyaki (Japanese-style pizza), pork sausage itame, yaki soba (ramen noodles in vegetables), chicken katsu (cutlet) and Japanese pork curry — which were light on the stomach and filled with flavour. Our waiter surprised us with assorted Japanese ice cream — wasabi, red bean, black sesame and green tea.

Back in chef Yoshinaga’s kitchen in Wasabi, as I put the final touches on my akami roll, I realised I’d be in my forties by the time I’d become a shokunin. I would, I decided, rather eat sushi than make it. I looked at the roll and sent up a silent prayer; thank heavens we didn’t have to eat the sushi I had rolled!

Sushi for beginners
Sushi  –  A Japanese dish, originally a street food, made with vinegared rice rolled with nori and filled or topped with vegetables and/or seafood.
Sashimi  –  Sliced, raw or prepared seafood served without rice.
Tempura  – Battered and deep-fried vegetables, prawn or shrimp.
Wasabi  – Japanese horseradish, usually ground to a paste and served with sushi.
Miso soup – A soup made with dashi (stock) and miso (fermented soyabean).

Types of sushi
Nigirizushe – A slice of fresh raw fish atop a column of vinegared rice.
Maki sushi – Sushi in the form of a roll
Futomaki – Large rolls stuffed with two or more ingredients.
Uramaki – ‘Inside-out rolls’ rice, roe and or sesame on the outside, and nori and fillings inside.

 Sushi-eating etiquette

> You may be offered an oshibori (wet towel) at the beginning of the meal; use it to wipe your hands before, during and after the meal, and fold it as neatly as you can before placing it back on the dish.

> If you don’t know how to use chopsticks, feel free to use your fingers to pick up sushi. If you do, remember not to rub them together — it is considered an insult. When they’re not in use, place chopsticks parallel to you on the holder.

> Eat your sushi in one bite. If you can’t, don’t place the half-eaten sushi back on your plate.

> Go easy on the soy sauce — soaking your sushi in soy is considered impolite. While eating nigiri, remember to place the fish side in the soy.

> Gari is a palate cleanser and is eaten between bites of different types of sushi, not with sushi.

> If you are served soup with your sushi, sip directly from the bowl.

> And, if you’re a first-timer at a sushi restaurant, start easy, with flavours you know and understand, before becoming too adventurous.







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