Monkfish heaven

We fell in love with monkfish when we had our first ankimo sushi in Berkeley’s Sushi Banzai. The liver was velvety and creamy, and when dipped lightly into ponzu sauce, was quite orgasmic. J and I could never stop at one… each.

So when we got to Tokyo, one of the restaurants I had to try was Isegen, which specializes in anko nabe, a monkfish casserole that is the perfect dish to warm one up during winter or a cool spring. In fact, Isegen serves its signature dish from September to April, so we went right at the tail end of the season.

Located in the greater Marunouchi area, Isegen has been operating out of its charming wooden premises since 1830 and serving anko from the fourth generation of owners onwards (whenever that is, you do the math).

The monkfish is not a delicate, willowy creature that is easy on the eye. Its meat, not surprisingly, is correspondingly firm, yet very succulent and full of character (which is another tactful of describing its looks). Isegen’s anko nabe is a cornucopia of various cuts of anko meat and skin, as well as generous servings of mushrooms, beans, radishes, gingko nuts and other stuff, in a light broth flavoured with shoyu.


Our middle-aged server spoke no English, which didn’t stop her from trying to carry on a conversation with us, and being generally helpful, friendly and obliging. She put the pot on a small gas stove on the table, and let us admire the dish, before turning on the gas.

La di da, merrily cooking away…


After a few minutes of boiling, I dug my chopstick into the pot just as she returned from the kitchen, and she immediately shushed me, in a kind matronly way, to leave it alone and wait for it to cook (meaning, she’s going to return and tell us when it was okay to dig in).

So, what to do? Prepare for the next leg of our trip, lor.


While we waited, we had a couple of side dishes as well, the highlight, not surprisingly, was ankimo dressed in subtle miso sauce. Mmmmmmmmmm.

The anko nabe didn’t disappoint when it was finally ready. I had feared the flesh was going to be overcooked, but it remained firm, juicy and flavourful. The skin was slippery and delicious – a wonderful texture food. An unexpected find were pieces of liver, which surprisingly stood up well to the cooking. It may not have had the creaminess of raw ankimo, but it remained somewhat delicate, and equally yummy.

The non-fish parts of the nabe were also a delight, having absorbed much of the goodness of the fish and the broth.

After finishing up every last bit of the nabe, our server returned to top up the pot with more broth and shoyu. She then put some cooked rice into it and turned on the stove again. After some time, as the consistency of the rice became more congee-like, our server returned, beat up to eggs, poured it into the pot and gently mixed it in. Just as it got done, she topped the dish with a generous serving of spring onions!

The rice/congee dish was a little salty for us, but still delicious and warming. J and I have relatively light tastebuds (I even like bland), so on hindsight, we should have asked our server to use more broth than shoyu when she topped up the pot for the rice dish. Having said that, Isegen was a winner all round!

[Check out Isegen’s website for details. When anko is not in season, the menu revolves around ayu, a trout-like sweetfish, and other freshwater fish, according to the Time Out Tokyo guide.]

No cherries but plums are pretty good too

We left Japan on Sunday the 23rd, thus missing the cherry blossom season by a week or so. We had been hoping that global warming would accelerate the whole blooming process for our sakes – but who’d have though that this would be one of the coldest winters and springs of recent years? Bah!

But, as we say in these parts, ne’er mind. Shinjuku Gyoen may not be awash with a riot of colours when we walked through on Saturday, but there were enough blooms to bring plenty of smiles to old and young alike. Certainly, the plum tree was doing its darndest to make everyone forget about those pretty lil’ cherries that always seem to hog the limelight.


A crowd gathered around this grand specimen that was spreading its wings majestically and welcoming all and sundry to take shade under its gorgeous blooms. Go Plums!!



It is said that when the cherry trees are blooming, this and other favourite blossom viewing parks are packed with groups of admirers having a good ol’ fashioned party, quaffing copious amount of sake and beer, and one can hardly move among the throngs. I guess there was a sliver lining then in being a week early – Shinjuku Gyoen was not crowded on Saturday. Still, there were enough folks enjoying the fine weather…

… lounging on their mats or rope skipping.


I thought: Why should they be the only ones chilling out? I wouldn’t mind having a lie down myself, with or without (more like without, actually) mat or groundsheet. So, zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Then, *yawn*, gets up to find, hmmm, mucho mucho stuff on me back. J couldn’t stop laughing as she attempted to get rid of some of the hay. I feigned indifference, secretly cursing not bringing any sake to drown my sorrows.

Anyway, there were plenty of other flowers in the park to keep one occupied, from yellow stuff…

… to white stuff …

… to red stuff.


There’s even, can you believe it, red and white stuff from one single tree! Creepy! (In a cool way, of course.)

You might be able to tell, from my over-reliance on the word ‘stuff’, that I’m no horticulturist. So what? I bet the many folks whipping out their cameras (mainly mobile, mind you) to take pictures…

… wouldn’t be able to tell their umes from their sakuras. Or maybe they could, since they look like they could read the Japanese signs next to the trees.

There were a couple of sakura buds getting ready to burst through into the warm spring air.

Actually, it was okay to miss the cherry blossoms in their full glory. There’s always the next time. If one really needs a more immediate fix, there are lots of pictures on the Internet. Just Google it.

Happy birthday Mistuh President….

So, we were walking along Omotesando when I stopped and snapped this window display for a lingerie shop.


J (slightly miffed): Why are you taking a picture of this?
Me: It’s a 10th anniversary display.

Grill heaven

Japan post #1. Today is our second day in Tokyo and if we had checked its website, we would have known that Fukuzushi is closed on Sundays. So there we were in Roppongi wondering what to do for dinner, when we decided to take a chance on a restaurant that we had passed just a minute ago and had looked intriguing.

First off, we almost missed this restaurant, for there wasn’t any big neon sign (a rarity in Japan, for sure!) or even what appears to be a door. The whole façade looked like a side of a big barn, with very discreet slits cut into one side enabling you to peek into a counter full of boisterous folks enjoying themselves. The sliding door is cut into the wooden front, and you’d have missed it since the door handle is a shy little small black thingy.

Anyway, we thanked the heavens we saw it because we had our best meal in our short stay so far. Joumon (or Jyoumon as it is spelt on the menu) is a kushiyaki (grilled goodies on small skewers) restaurant, and we managed to find a seat on the counter right in front of the chef and his grill.

The Kurobuta pork was sinfully delicious, oodles of flavour cascading out of the small pieces of alternating fat and lean part. J was in a schizo mood – switching between moaning about how superb it was, to admonishing me about how bad it was for my health! We also ordered Joumon’s other signature pork skewer – this time Iberian, which had an equally rich yet different flavour signature from the Kurobuta. The Iberian was much leaner, yet juicy and deep, proving that good flavours exist not only in the fatty bits of meat.

Other sticks that passed our way had chicken thigh (ooh, yummy), chicken gizzard (my favourite) and duck with onions (this was the only one to come in below excellent). Of the non-meat stuff, we had gingko nuts and asparagus wrapped in a thin slice of pork (did I say non-meat?), but the standouts were the eringi mushroom and the zucchini, both of which were testament to the axiom that the very best fresh ingredients need only to be treated simply and with respect, in this case, lightly grilled.

The highligh of the night for J was the off-menu special, the grilled smelt (shishamo)…


… which had imbibed the roasty, charcoaly aroma and was juicy, tender and crispy at the same time. J wolfed down the tail half while I took care of the head bits, leaving no evidence of our gluttony behind. We loved it so much that we had seconds, and after that, stared accusatorily at a gaijin also sitting at the counter who had ordered the same fish but had nibbled a little at the middle parts and left the rest of it untouched. Sigh!

Overall, it was a happy experience, for we even managed to strike up a conversation with the young Japanese woman sitting next to us – no mean feat since her basic English was tonnes more than our non-existent Japanese! We've had some good yakitori in Singapore, and we used to be a regular at Norikonoko in Berkeley (an understated place with a mean robata menu), but Joumon is quite exceptional.

Joumon (or Jyoumon)
5-9-17 Roppongi
Minato-ku, Tokyo
03-3405-2585
Opening hours: well, we know they’re open on Sunday nights!
Most skewers are between 100 and 400 yen each.

Huff, huff, puff puff

This past week, apart from being caught up with the excitement over the elections, I had hit the gym with a renewed vengeance. Part of the reason was the realization my cholesterol level was climbing, as I had begun to enjoy the wonderful street food a little too much. The other reason was my friend T’s running blog.

Specifically, this heart-thumping account of a 50 km race up the beautiful hills of Woodside, in the San Francisco Bay Area. As I read it, I felt swept along with T as he glided his way through a course that ran from narrow single-track trails to “a mixed forest up to a fire road cut through redwood trees and douglas fir. The trees loom tall, their tops lost in the canopy. The road does its best to reach the tops of the trees as it climbs steeply in this section.” When I read this, I closed my eyes and dreamt of spring in the Bay Area, of kayaking in Point Reyes, of being wowed by the giants of Muir Woods, of strolling along Half Moon Bay and buying freshly caught Dungeness crabs and of magical kites floating over the Berkeley marina.


Now, I’m not a runner by any means – my regular 5 km on the treadmill might get me to the first drinks station on a 50K race (or maybe not!). And the parts of Woodside I know revolve around and inside Buck’s, a wonderfully individualistic diner/restaurant in which Silicon Valley moneybags meet to seal mega-techie deals over flapjacks. Not surprisingly, it was T who brought us there.

Picture from restaurant website.

So, how am I ever to lose weight if even ironman runners keep feeding me all the good stuff?