Vol. 2 An Evening at a Long-Standing Sushi Restaurant Where I Learned Life’s Essential Lessons

2024.01.11

The Yaesu, Nihonbashi, and Kyobashi areas, home to Tokyo Station—the gateway to Japan—not only welcome many people but also maintain strong ties to the local community. A series of articles by the popular young essayist, Zettai ni Shuden wo Nogasanai Onna, offers insights into the city and its people.

“What is your favorite food?” I always struggle to find a response when I’m asked this question. This is because I do not have a particular favorite food.

 

As an adult, I realized that when someone asks about your favorite food, they often want to go out to eat with you and are just trying to gather some information beforehand. In that case, if I also want to dine with that person, I understand that it is a good idea to mention a few foods that I enjoy. The first foods that come to mind are omelet rice and hamburgers, which I used to say were my favorites as a child. However, I hesitate to mention them now since I feel they might seem a bit childish for an adult of my age.

 

Many people mention sushi to be their favorite food. Sushi is a reasonable choice for everyone, regardless of age or gender. It is a go-to food that can easily lead people to say, “Let’s go eat sushi.”

 

As part of my research for this series of articles on the towns and people of Yaesu, Nihonbashi, and Kyobashi, I was invited to Yoshino Sushi Honten in Nihonbashi. This long-established restaurant has been in operation since 1879. Of course, I like sushi, though it is not my absolute favorite. I have only dined at a slightly more expensive revolving sushi restaurant. So, this opportunity feels like a gift because I can enjoy a meal at a sushi restaurant I usually cannot afford.

 

Accompanied by T from Tokyo Tatemono and S, the editor in charge, we entered Yoshino Sushi and noticed that only men in their 50s and 60s, dressed in nice attire looking like corporate executives, were present.

 

Yoshino-san, the master chef behind the counter, is the fifth-generation owner of this restaurant and creates a very friendly atmosphere. I felt relieved since I had imagined the typical sushi bar chef to be tenacious and unapproachable.

 

Sitting side by side at the counter, we saw snapper, scallops, kohada, and other types of sushi placed on the sushi tray every five minutes or so. I have always felt that sushi is often too large to eat in one bite—perhaps because I have a small mouth—but the sushi here is perfectly sized and just right. I wondered if all expensive sushi restaurants served sushi of this size, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

 

The sushi chef explained the types of sushi on the tray, but I forgot what they were while eating and chatting. What stayed with me was the delightful feeling of enjoying something truly delicious.

 

T is apparently a frequent customer at Yoshino Sushi since he often visits for work-related dinners and knows Yoshino-san well.

 

“What time do you get up every morning?”

 

“Six.”

 

“Uh.”

 

I sensed that the “Uh” we all said at the same time conveyed that we each felt it was unexpectedly late. He mentioned that he does not have to wake up super early since he lives near Toyosu.

 

I am most curious whether those who have taken over their family’s long-standing businesses have ever considered pursuing a different career. I asked him that.

 

Yoshino-san replied, “To be honest, I applied for a college theater course but didn’t end up going because I couldn’t pass the entrance exam. If I had been accepted and studied theater, a career as an actor might have been possible. That’s all.”

 

“Yoshino-san is a cinema enthusiast, and I once asked him which movie he would choose if he could bring only one to a deserted island.  The answer was …”

 

The title of the movie that T announced, after creating a somewhat exaggerated pause, was Notting Hill.

 

… I see; I’m impressed by the unexpected answer, which was definitely worth the pause. I said, “I may be biased, but you seem like the type of person who would choose one of Yasujiro Ozu’s movies.”

 

S said, “I suppose it is kind of difficult for cinema enthusiasts to choose just one favorite movie.”

 

I remembered something my friend told me the other day. While having dinner with several people, I was unexpectedly asked, “What’s your favorite food?”  As I mentioned earlier, I couldn’t answer right away. When I explained that I did not have a specific favorite food, another friend present said, “No one has just one distinctly favorite food.

 

It’s just like life: if you choose one favorite food, you have to stick with it all the way. By the way, my favorite food is grilled ginger pork. I do not particularly love grilled ginger pork, but I have decided to call it my favorite food.”

 

I was very impressed by this. Of course, many people clearly have a special favorite food, but it seems to me that there are just as many who do not have a specific favorite food but have chosen one instead.

 

Once you choose a film to take to a deserted island, you must stick with that one film for the entire duration of your stay. Perhaps there are some similarities in this.

 

After 7:00 p.m., the restaurant was nearly full, with a variety of customers ranging from elderly couples to trendy young people and middle-aged men who seemed to work in creative fields. This lively mix created an atmosphere typical of a regular izakaya.

 

Our conversation also drifts to topics that may be inappropriate in a traditional sushi restaurant, such as mental health struggles and cosmetic medicine. As T and S, both in their 40s, sympathized with each other about their dry skin—so dry that foundation started to settle into the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes—the salmon roe sushi I had ordered was placed on the table. I noticed that the surface of the salmon roe was much plumper than the cheaper varieties I had been eating. It reminded me of human skin.

 

I tend to eat more slowly than others, and I eat even slower when I’m talking. However, in this dining style—where we eat one piece of sushi, drink tea, converse, and then repeat the cycle of waiting for the next piece to be served—I’m glad my slow eating habit goes unnoticed, as everyone else is also eating slowly. The tempo seemed to suit me, which was comforting, and it was fulfilling to have the person in front of me continuously serving delicious food.

 

Finally, T asked me what I wanted to know from the young hostess. I asked whether she had any reservations about marrying a sushi chef. I recalled my grandmother, who once had an arranged marriage with the eldest son of a Japanese confectioner but turned him down because she didn’t want to get up early in the morning and mix azuki beans every day.

 

The young hostess who stepped out from behind the curtain at the back of the restaurant had a refined appearance, like an actress.

 

The female customers in the restaurant also carried an air of elegance, much like actresses. In particular, a woman with a large-collared coat and spiral-permed hair exuded a dignity and class reminiscent of actress Kaori Momoi, who embodied the 1970s vibe. The man accompanying her seemed to be her husband, boyfriend, or perhaps just an old friend.

 

As I watched, hoping to grow old with such grace, the young hostess came to our table.

 

I wasn’t bold enough to ask that question outright; I was just expressing my curiosity. However, T encouraged me, and I found myself in a position to ask the young hostess directly.

 

I began hesitantly and awkwardly, “Generally speaking, it requires a great deal of determination and courage to marry the eldest son who is heir to a long-established business like this restaurant.…”

 

The young hostess then replied matter-of-factly, “Yes, I really hated it!”

 

She explained that she decided to get married after dating him for about five years, having met at a part-time job. However, she felt depressed on the airplane ride back from their honeymoon, dreading the start of her job at the sushi restaurant the following morning.

 

I asked, “Have you ever imagined your life if you hadn’t married him?”

 

She instantly replied with a big smile, “That is the fun part!”

 

When people dream of an alternate life, it is often when they are dissatisfied with the reality in front of them. So, I thought that such daydreaming was linked to somewhat negative emotions. However, her reply was eye-opening and made me realize that some people find it to be fun.

 

Just as I am indecisive about my favorite food, I tend to be filled with doubts and regrets about every choice I’ve made in life, constantly second-guessing myself at every step. What I lack is the ability to accept my decisions and move forward with them.

 

Whether it’s a career choice, marriage, a movie to take to a desert island, or a favorite food, once you make a decision and choose one option, you just have to stick with it.

 

Next time someone asks me what my favorite food is, I might say sushi. That was the night I secretly contemplated such things.

Zettai ni Shuden wo Nogasanai Onna
Writer

Born in 1995. Graduated from the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, Waseda University. Active as a writer since her college days, she now primarily contributes essays to Web media, magazines, and movie pamphlets. Her serialized essay, City Girl Miman, originally published in the Web magazine GINZA (Magazine House), gained widespread attention and was released as a book in 2023. (Icon photo by Mikako Kozai)

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