Before I moved to Japan I never ate much in the way of fried foods due to the image I had of fried foods not being healthy. I ate the occasional French fry or fish and chips, but that was about it. No KFC or other fried chicken, no fried donuts, and no tenpura, not that I had many opportunities to do so. Once I lived in Japan I still tried to not eat much fried food, save for some kara-age, aji-fry, or tenpura soba every now and then. I doubt I ate more than one full course tenpura meal a year. I had no idea what I’d been missing!
It turns out I was worried about a non-existent problem, at least when it comes to high end tenpura; it is actually a very healthy cooking oil and full of things good for your health. Sesame oil, or in Japanese, goma abura (胡麻油), is rich in mono and polyunsaturated acids, things that have been shown to lower bad cholesterol. It’s low in saturated fats, and contains two powerful anti-oxidants, sesamol and sesamin, and rich on Omega 6 fatty acids. There is also evidence it can lower blood pressure, and fight inflammation (as with many other foods, research into health benefits has only just begun).
Since finding out that frying with sesame oil is not at all what I previously thought I have been enjoying more high end tenpura, mostly in my neighborhood, places within biking or walking distance. So, a couple of weeks ago when a friend invited me to join him for lunch at Tenpura Naruse, what he considers to be the best tenpura in Japan I was eager to go, especially since my friend would be treating me as a repayment for having him over for New Years osechi feasting. I did a double take, though, when I checked on the restaurant and saw it was in Shizuoka City. It seemed like a long ways to go for lunch, but I figured that for the price of a shinkansen ticket it was worth it.
We met at 10:10 on the shinkansen when it arrived at Shinagawa (my friend got on at Tokyo) and got to Shizuoka City a couple minutes after 11:00, an hour before our reservation. Taking the next train would mean we would be about fifteen or twenty minutes late, so to kill the better part of an hour we stopped by a small tea shop for a cup of macha, something that has become routine for my friend every time he goes to Narusei. From there it was only a two or three minute walk to the restaurant. We arrived at 11:59, right on schedule.
The kitchen, or at least the visible portion, was simple, with two large copper pots filled with goma abura for cooking, a small work space to the right (from my view) used by Shimura san, the owner and head of the kitchen, for knife work with a bit more room next to that for his assistant, and a small, open space to our left for handing things to and from the back kitchen. Separating the seven-seat counter from the cooking area was a wide glass screen extending perhaps 40 cm above the wooden counter, perfect for guests watching the chefs perform without being splattered by hot oil. On a counter by the rear wall was a large basket full of vegetables, all, of course, grown in Shizuoka. It seemed clear that the chef as a performance artist was no longer mainly in sushi but had now entered the world of tenpura!
The meal started with a small cup of shin-wakame in its own dashi along with a couple of nama beers (Premium Malts). Next was some very nice and thick (but tender) hirame sashimi, something a bit out of the ordinary as sashimi with tenpura is not too common. While we were eating that Shimura san was tending to some more hirame that had been sliced by his assistant to the side, the fish in the smaller of the two pots of oil. I was surprised when he reached into the oil to remove the fish which, even after being in the oil for at least a full minute, did not appear to be cooking. The reason was the oil was only 40 degrees, just hot enough to warm the fish without cooking it, the flavor made richer by the fresh oil.
While everyone was eating itamae san Shimura was prepping vegetables for cooking later. There were huge satsuma imo (sweet potatoes), which he peeled here and there, removing just enough so the koromo (batter or coating) would adhere. There was also some enormous gobō which he prepared by first chopping into smaller pieces and then finely cutting small slits in the outside, again so the koromo would cling while being cooked in oil. Next was a head of broccoli which he first broke down and then finely sliced the florets. It was all very fascinating for me to observe as being seated in the third seat from the left and just in front of the oil I had the perfect viewpoint to watch and learn. I was interested in the knife he was using as it looked like a hamo knife, only way too short. Right as I was half way through asking about the knife, just after he made his final cut into the broccoli, he set the knife down on the counter. From the sound it made I realized I was mistaken; the knife was a large vegetable knife, which he immediately told me. Oops!
We finished our beers as the food started arriving in front of us one thing at a time and decided to switch to nihonshu, although wine also sounded good. Shimura san’s wife. who is a sommelier, is pretty much in charge of drinks. All four of the different sakes we drank were from Shizuoka. Two I had had before, while the other two were new to me. All were good and went well with tenpura. The servings alternated between seafood and vegetables, all cooked just in front of us in two different temperatures of oil, one 150 degrees, the other 170. I learned a lot about cooking tenpura that day, even joking that when I got back to Tokyo my wife would expect me to cook high grade tenpura for her (I haven’t done so yet).
The meal started off with fairly straightforward preparations and then progressed to more complex items. For example, satsuma imo is standard tenpura fare. But usually it is sliced thin, maybe to five to eight millimeters thick. But not at Naruse where they were cooked more or less whole. And they were on the large size to begin with. They started off cooking in the 170 C pot of oil for several minutes, then were moved to the cooler oil to make room for some other things to be cooked. After perhaps fifteen minutes they were moved back to the hotter oil for a few more minutes, then removed and set to the side for the assistant to cut them and wrap them in paper for eating.
Other notable items included ma-aji which was cooked perfectly, crisp in the outside but still pinkish-red inside, and served wrapped in tenpura paper to be eaten by hand, and a very large local variety of ebi (shrimp) that looked like ise-ebi but was called something aka-ebi (I don’t remember the first part of the name), meaning a red shrimp, but also called by the chefs a langostino. It too, was fantastic. In all, there were seventeen tenpura, plus the shin-wakame soup, a very nice salad which served as a welcome change of pace in the middle of the flurry of tenpura, plus a slice of a sweet lemon from Kyushu for desert.
The vegetables were all from Shizuoka and all excellent, the satsuma imo and gobō being especially large, much larger than I ever see in Tokyo. The way the satsuma imo was prepared was particularly interesting, with large pieces (not sliced as is the norm) taking turns cooking between the two pots of oil for a total of twenty-minutes or so. After cooling a bit, they were sliced and served wrapped in paper.
The accompaniments were fairly traditional, some tentsuyu (dipping sauce) accompanied by a constantly refilled bowl of oroshi (grated daikon) and two different salts, one from Okinawa and the other, one with some very large, flat crystals, from England.
The meal concluded with a choice of kakeage or tendon. I went with the tendon, but with a smaller than normal serving of rice. After that came tea and for dessert, a quarter of a sweet lemon from Kyushu. My friend had to leave early to make it to a dinner in Tokyo that had been pushed to an earlier time due to corona restrictions and so missed the last items. I don’t know how he could eat another meal two hours later as it was, let alone if he had eaten the full tenpura course.
While we were eating my friend explained to me how to go about making future reservations. He said to wait until everyone had left, then try, although he sounded like he didn’t I would be able to reserve as I would first need to pass “the test,” the test being a demonstration of being suitable and worthy of returning, something I have often experienced when dining for the first time at some restaurants. After taking my time finishing my tea and being the last remaining customer it was time for me to try. After some small talk and general banter between me and the owners I politely asked if it was possible to make another reservation. When I replied sometime in March after being asked when I was told no, it needed to be after that. I chose a weekday in April instead, a day my wife would be able to go with me. I had passed the test.
Shimura san and his wife followed me outside when I walked out the door and proceeded to bow deeply, as is the custom at good restaurants in Japan. Not wanting them to stay outside and waste any more time than necessary, I quickly turned down a street to the right. When I looked ahead a couple of blocks I realized I was heading towards the cake shop I wanted to visit. When I reached the main street, the shotengai arcade the woman had mentioned that morning I looked around and counted two stop lights to my left. She had said go past two lights, but I wasn’t quite sure if the farthest light was included. Fortunately, there was a steady stream of junior high school girls walking towards me. If anyone would know about the cake shop it would be young women. I asked one girl, and sure enough, she knew of the place which was just 100 meters or so ahead. When I got to the stop light I realized I had been there before, while walking the old Tōkaidō road. Off to the left I saw the walls of Sunpu Castle, famous for being the final home of Tokugawa Ieyasu. The only difference was now there were no banners celebrating the Rugby World Cup as there was a year and a half ago. Small world.
I crossed the street when the light changed and a few steps later found the cake shop. It was small, without a bakery, just displays of small cakes. After chatting with the owner and what seemed to be a friend of hers I selected a few macha cakes, a couple of hazelnut cakes, and a couple more Sunpu cakes, paid and headed towards the station. There was no way I was going to eat the cakes right then. They would be safe until I got home and gave them to my wife.