Once a sushi restaurant offers food so fresh that it dies at your table (as Heat did, a few years ago) it’s really hard to imagine a splashier (or more disturbing) way for a new Japanese restaurant to get the attention of Chicago’s insatiable sushi freaks. But I can tell you that being mysterious worked on me.
On my way to Blackbird, I accidentally waltzed into Meiji, next door. It has a distinctive decor that you might call International Industrial Sushi Moderne: stark space, exposed bricks and beams, low banquettes, and such throwback flourishes as overlapping slabs of handsome dark wood paneling and whimsical lighting fixtures that that look like the big loop earrings of a ’60s go-go dancer.
Interesting, but I’d heard absolutely no foodie buzz about the place (which I assumed was due to the fact that my brain shuts down when I hear the word “foodie”). I later asked around. I did some Googling. I checked my e-mail archive for chirpy press releases. Nothing. Who were these people who had sneaked into the D.Kelly space in the dark of night?
I returned a week later with a couple of friends to find that Meiji, which opened Feb. 28, was doing nothing more than offering really lovely food. The menu consists mainly of sushi, although much attention has been paid to the kitchen dishes–the zensai (small plates) and shusai (or main courses). So we took a sort of modified Omakase approach. Omakase is a request that means the chef decides (as opposed to Okonomi, in which the diner picks), and it’s the smart thing to do if you’re not one of those people who orders California rolls or items containing cream cheese. The chef is obviously going to know what’s best. At Meiji, the waiter knew a lot, too, so we let him take over; he listened to our likes and dislikes, and cut us off at just the right time.
The three nicest things he brought were the Meiji Gunkan, the Koto Maki and the Haru Maki.
Gunkan means “battleship,” because of the sushi’s shape–usually a base of sushi rice surrounded by a wall of nori to hold sloppier cargo like flying fish roe or a raw oyster. This version employed strips of bluefin tuna instead of the dried seaweed, and it carried a combination of king crab, masago (smelt roe), spicy mayo and crunchy tempura flakes. Very nice.
The Koto Maki, which fell under the “Signature Maki” heading, was unagi (fresh water eel), cilantro, avocado, jalapeno, masago, and tempura flakes, arranged to evoke an ocean island, complete with cilantro palm trees. Pretty, with nice textures, and a powerful jalapeno kick.
The Haru Maki was my favorite; if it’s an example of how fresh and simply innovative the rest of the chef’s dishes are, it’s a very good sign. The large roll was sliced thinly, with no rice; instead of nori, the delicate and distinctly sweet assortment of fish and vegetables inside–tuna, yellowtail, salmon, crab, avocado, carrot and scallion–were surrounded by a thin skin of cucumber, with a light rice vinegar dressing, or sunomono.
We also enjoyed some excellent nigiri–fatty tuna, red snapper, super white tuna–and the only interesting Age Dashi I’ve ever had: tofu skin wrapped around asparagus and shrimp, rather than the usual tempura-fried blob of bean curd. After dinner, we tried a couple of desserts: a green tea mille feuille with raspberry coulis, which was interesting and light, and the Meiji Apple Spring Roll, with jasmine caramel and green tea ice cream (which did indeed look like a spring roll but tasted like nothing more special than a hot apple pie from McDonald’s; there are worse things, of course).
So the food at Meiji was quite alluring–this much I knew. But when I called the restaurant, several million times, to find out their story, I was given the broken-English brush-off. I accused them of being willfully opaque. In response, the hostess told me the restaurant would soon have a sign decorated with a cherry blossom, which was mildly interesting but not much help. When I did finally reach the owner, Alan Chou, on the phone, I was embarrassed. It turns out that he’s been kind of busy (apparently you have to work really hard to open a restaurant) and that his kitchen chef Ishi and sushi chef Ko (neither uses a surname) have been working since last August to refine the menu, which is still a work in progress. “Ishi cooked for 15 years in Sapporo,” he told me, and his focus is on the best ingredients possible. “He wants the food to be original and traditional, not like the Japanese restaurants you find here, everywhere.” And no, they hadn’t sent out press releases, or thrown a splashy opening night party: “This is not a place to see and be seen. This is a place for a serious dinner,” he said.
Meiji is at 623 W. Randolph St. 312-887-9999; open weekdays for lunch and dinner, weekends for dinner only. Zensai $3-$8; shusai $14-$23; sushi $2-$17.
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