Hayashi Tenpura - Tokyo

Hayashi Tempura – Perfection

By

Michael J. Skurko

Hayashi Tempura. The Temple of Tempura. We’ve made arrangements in advance per the suggestion of our “Food Guide to Tokyo.” With guide book in hand we follow the twisting treasure map from Nihonbashi subway station to this immaculate hole in the wall. We walk in the door and see that this shrine of tempura is an expression of culinary minimalism. At a glance it is… perfect. I have a good idea of what is to come from the restaurant guide and I am feeling a giddy sense of delicious anticipation.

The tempura bar itself is made from beautifully polished cypress wood. The wood is bleached and smooth from the religious fervor with which it is cleaned. We sit around the counter, Mom and I, awaiting the arrival of Saito-san. There are six other seats at the bar occupied by Japanese businessmen. They talk business as we sit transfixed by the calm before this culinary storm. At any moment the star will arrive. His slippers await him on the perfectly polished wood floor in front of the bar. A one man show. A one act play. Seating for eight. One setting per day. No menu. He’ll select what is the best, in seasonal seafood and vegetables. We know this from the book. Sweet shrimp, scallops, squid, kissu fish, and perfectly grown Japanese vegetables. Ah, yes… Anticipation mounting with increased tempo. Soon, the master will arrive. We are now waited on continually by nearly invisible wait staff. Crisp and cold, golden Yebisu beer appears in tiny glasses. Steamed ‘oshibori’ hand towels arrive on a bamboo tray. Mom and I are tucked in the corner enjoying the sanctity of our domain. Box seating at the culinary opera. To my right the six Japanese businessmen nibble on small snacks and drink sake. They chat and drink seemingly oblivious to the beauty of the place. The staff seems to know these men and do not need to ask what they need. Silent, nearly invisible service. These are the three people assisting Saito-san. One appears to be the food prep guy. The other two are dressed in kimono and waiting on customers at the counter.

The stage is set. Eight customers at a wooden bar in a tiny room in a towering building in Nihonbashi. Inside the setting is ancient. Outside the blinking lights and bleating horns seem a lifetime away. Here there is calm. Here there is perfect simplicity. If an item is not 100% required for the task of preparing tenpura it does not exist. A single gas tube connects to the industrial looking gas burner. This range is a circle of iron that sits atop the wooden counter. A single pan of clear oil.. To the left of that there is a stainless steel sink. There is a very narrow walkway where Saito-san will soon perform his tempura artwork. He makes the scene and slips into his slippers.

Saito-san. A humble, middle aged man has appeared. Silently, moving in front of the counter. He is a somber, serene man. He greets us each individually. His assistant has already brought today’s selection. From our seats we can see a beautiful array of scallops, live shrimp, kisso, asparagus, sora-mame (beans) and what we are later told are some special fish from lake Biwa. There’s a small pile of shiitake mushrooms and squid. Did I already mention that these creatures are very much alive? The shrimp are in a stainless steel bowl and are thrashing around until… Saito-san quickly goes to the task of preparing. He takes the prawns one at a time from the bowl and quickly and very effectively kills, shells and de-veins them in what appears to be a single martial arts move. It looks like he is performing miniature judo moves on these hapless shrimp. Quickly and effectively he is immobilizing their attack. His movements are practiced and precise. It is an amazing sight. I am transfixed. He plucks a trashing shrimp from the bowl and in two quick hand moves has rendered in ready for the batter. Poetry in motion. The businessmen to our right are still engrossed in the minutia of business talk. Mom and I remain speechless. We can not stop staring at the master in motion. How to describe this perfect moment? Timeless. Perfection. Zen. This is really huge and we haven’t even had a bite to eat yet. This man has an awe-inspiring presence. Over stated? Nope. This is what I am soon to find is the best tempura of my life.

So, now the food. Saito-san begins. He adds some flour and water to a stainless steel bowl. The oil is now quickly gaining in temperature. He takes the chopsticks and dips into the batter splashing a test dollop in. It spatters and dances at the surface of the oil. Must be approaching perfection. The prawns are now gently bathed in batter and slowly dropped into the oil. Amazing grace. The scent of ama-ebi, sweet shrimp, rises to my eager senses. I know what is coming. That extra special prawn is upencoming, soon to greet my lips. Saito-san lays a single prawn on my dish. As he places this gem at my plate of worship he smiles with modesty and suggests “sukoshi shio of tsukete ne..” This translates to “with just a little salt…” I dip the prawn first into the salt dish and then into the daikon oroshi, grated 'daikon' radish. Atop this standard garnish is something even more exquisite. There is fresh-grated ‘yuzu,’ a Japanese citrus that is similar to a lemon only with a more delicate and distinct flavor. To me the touch of yuzu in a meal is the essence of Japan. Ahhh… I move the prawn from my dipping sauce to my mouth. Sweet, delicate, delicious. Love, bliss, cosmic. Unlike any other culinary moment. The prawn and sauce give rise to five distinct flavors. I can taste it. I am in love.

There is nothing like Hayashi Tenpura. Yes, I would (and have) now come to Tokyo just to eat dinner here. It is that good. Each time. Magical.