This month’s column is a remembrance of sorts to a dynamic friend from days gone by, Nelson D., one of the most congenial of men who left us too soon. Nelson was the king of parties and the good life. He was well respected and had the power to hand-wave a departing Carnival Cruise ship back to the loading ramp so we were all able to leave the Bahamas and get home safe and sound to Miami. The recipe I’m sharing is his, and with it I honor his memory and the joy he so often sparked.
I’ve been a devotee for more than 45 years. Back in the day I used to hit Manhattan’s mid-east 50s, an area akin to downtown Tokyo saturated with small, walk-down sushi bars that were open late and packed with fun times. I was in my 20s and loved watching the chefs prepare their culinary art. I learned all sorts of sushi etiquette as I narrowed my aim to the places filled with local Japanese businessmen. They were often surprised to see me slide into an empty seat facing a “master chef” at the sushi bar, rather than sit at a table.
(Sid Hoeltzell © Miami 2022)
All the ingredients you need to do Nelson proud.
Yes, I say “master” chef because it takes years to navigate that traditional male-dominated hierarchy and become a top skilled sashimi craftsperson. Years making only rice, years slicing select fish to bring out its true natural flavor. Not like nowadays, when anyone can say they are a “sushi chef” – to those Quick Draw MacGraws I say, eat me!
When I finally met Aoto-san, a true upcoming star, he taught me what to ask for and to really appreciate the creative “sushi culture” in New York – and that sitting at the bar and asking a top chef to craft mouthfuls of holiness is the way to go. Though I do steer clear of jellyfish as I’m highly allergic to it, and once spent time in a hospital because of it. So, no omakase for me.
Aoto-san introduced me to what he called his “fugu-sake,” a rare delight created by incorporating a poison blowfish element into a top-shelf hot sake. I will to this day swear to the aphrodisiac quality of that treat. I knew I was in good care when the oftentimes drunk Japanese businessmen sitting nearby would politely mention to the chef over my shoulder, “How come this ‘gaijin’ (non-Japanese folk) rates those special pickled baby eels?” or “Why does he get the fried river crabs even after he got the grilled flying fish?” Well, slipping the chef great tips and some hashish always helped out.
(Sid Hoeltzell © Miami 2022)
Garlic and ginger and wasabi, oh, my!
Note: Japanese cuisine is not just about raw fish. There are so many treats that are grilled, sautéed, marinated, poached or broiled to perfection – the sky’s the limit. The taste of fresh uni, or sea urchin, something I often refer to as the “cream of the ocean,” or the flavor of nato, fermented soybean? Sublime! And watching all that goes into the cutting and plating; these are arts many don’t focus on. That’s why you can always find me at the sushi bar downing and drowning in my nigiri.
One dish I’ve never forgotten was served on a turquoise, ocean-blue plate that delivered the edible tropical island of my dreams. The trees were radish sprouts rooted by real wasabi paste, surrounded by a beach of uni with tobiko tourists and nori rafts. I would give a stack of shishitos to have a plate like that again. Picture that if you can and email me your sketch.
I always get a thrill when gaijin first sit their butts down at a real good sushi bar counter and see what I’ve been enjoying for years. Most of the time the peeps just order off the menu and don’t bother to politely ask the chef what they might recommend. That firsthand insight is key. Also, never, never, ever drown these precious flavors in a puddle of soy sauce. It’s a cardinal sin – after a chef flies fish across the ocean to be skillfully carved down to a Mondrian pattern on a handmade plate from an Osaka craftsman – to douse those heavenly bites. Know and appreciate that real-deal chefs apply their years of training to your meal and understand that sushi/sashimi is art. And please don’t forget to say “arigato” in between samplings.
(Sid Hoeltzell © Miami 2022)
Too chunky – what we’re looking for is a smooth, well-emulsified mix.
And while I sometimes bring my white jade Burmese chopsticks to the bar when I wanna feel a bit uppity, in reality, it’s not fanfare or fancy things that make the meal – simplicity and quality are the measures of great sushi and sashimi. That’s why I always loved Nelson’s preparation of a dreamy sauce paired with quality tuna coated in ground pepper. The mystery is in blending the dipping sauce ingredients but, again, please avoid drowning your sliced tataki in this delicious lubricant, too.
Another note: It’s not easy to properly fillet a fish or to know how to correctly cut and prepare most varieties for visually presentable dishes. I appreciate honoring the animal/food source that I will be blessed enough to consume. There’s also that serene Zen buzz I get when I’m able to adroitly put my knife skills to the test.
This dish can be a main or an appetizer, the preference is yours. Fresh high-grade tuna is paramount to making the recipe work but – as in all my columns – the unexpected may be of value. I’ll try this recipe using some thick slabs of salmon next week, for example, as the Alaskan runs are giving up the goods this season. And in a piece of advice that may surprise you, fresh ground black pepper is not recommended; I feel it’s a bit too strong. I suggest using ground pepper from the jar for this. You must coat all surfaces of the cut tuna bars – do not be afraid! The recipe is an easy one, and once you start the dry fry you’ll be smellin’ what I’m tellin’. Banzai!
NELSON D.’S TUNA TATAKI
(Sid Hoeltzell © Miami 2022)
Bite-sized slabs of tuna waiting for the next step.
Serves: About 6
This is a recipe that takes a medium amount of preparation but regimented details must be followed!
INGREDIENTS:
· 1 ounce fresh garlic cloves, coarsely chopped
· 1 1/2 ounces cleaned fresh ginger, coarsely chopped
· 1/2 cup sesame seed oil, the expensive fragrant stuff
· 1 1/2 cups corn oil – avocado oil tastes great, too
· 1/3 cup good quality light soy sauce
· 1 teaspoon wasabi paste – start with this and add on slowly for more heat
· About 2 1/2 pounds sushi-grade tuna – 1 1/2″-thick slabs, not tiny end pieces
· Bottle of ground pepper for coating tuna, Badia is great
PREPARATION
· To make the tataki dipping sauce, place garlic, ginger, sesame oil, corn oil, soy sauce and wasabi in food processor and pulse until liquified, about 5 minutes or so – you want it smooth and emulsified, not fluffy.
· Place in serving dish or divide into small ramekins and set aside.
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Ready for the black pepper plunge.
· To prep the tuna, cut fish slabs into bars of equal height and width – 1 1/2″-square bites, more or less. You can leave the ends naturally shaped but I usually square them off (dropped into some light soy sauce the end bits don’t last long).
· Allow tuna bars to “cool” to room temperature-ish; you don’t want them icy-chilled from the fridge.
· Preheat large skillet on medium-high heat and do not add any oil – we’re doing a “dry fry” here, so dry pan like I like my comedy.
· Place a few ounces ground pepper into a large baggie and drop in your tuna bars; shake until pepper coats all surfaces.
· Keep a timer handy for this part – it’s very important to use one that counts seconds – and place a few bars on the pan. That’ll get you some smoky pepper smoke but don’t worry.
· Cook bars for 45-55 seconds then turn them over to the next side for a quick sear; don’t go longer than 60 seconds or you’ll overcook your fish.
· Encase each dry-fried bar in plastic wrap and place in freezer 15 minutes. Use the time to catch up on drinking sake and bellowing “domo arigato Mr. Roboto.”
· Now, onto the slicing and plating! Unwrap chilled bars and slice them to about a tad more than 1/4″ in thickness; keep your formation and the lineup very close.
(Sid Hoeltzell © Miami 2022)
Properly peppered and on deck for the all-important dry fry.
· Place your row of sliced tataki on a bed of soft leaf lettuce, like hydroponic bibb leaf or butterhead, so the plating looks great.
· Grab a ramekin of Nelson’s sauce and get to it! Serve your sushi with an appropriate side or not – the tuna speaks for itself. I enjoyed my latest batch with two-day old rice that I fried into cakes and topped with extra sauce.
Sid Hoeltzell is an award-winning Miami-based commercial food and beverage photographer and former “MasterChef” contestant. He has completed more than 450 commissioned works for Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines, teaches food photography seminars and is a preferred fine art photographer for Christie’s, Sotheby’s and private collections.
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Less than 60 seconds in the pan and not a bit more – that’s the secret to a perfect tuna tataki.
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That’s a wrap, at least for now.
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The post-chill slice up.