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The New York Times - TIME was that the streets radiating out and down from K Street in Washington
The New York Times
BY: Sarah Wildman
June 6th, 2010
TIME was that the streets radiating out and down from K Street in Washington — hallowed ground for lobbyists and image-makers — were a fusty culinary landscape of white tablecloths, blue blazers and standard steakhouses. But in recent years, those looking for a less predictable menu have migrated to ever more inventive, and ethnic, restaurants opening on and around the K Street strip.
These new entrants borrow from the rigorous authenticity of the nearby suburban immigrant communities — where Korean, Vietnamese, Taiwanese, Burmese, Salvadoran, Cantonese and Thai restaurants flourish in strip-mall storefronts. The Capital is also in the midst of a shift in food culture: new farmers’ markets; celebrity chefs, both home-grown and imported; and the healthy and engaged date-night meals of the first couple. After a few years away from Washington, I set out to join the K lunch and dinner crowds, exploring, with my partner, Ian, the best new ethnic options the area has to offer.
KUSHI
This Japanese spot, which opened in March, is the two-part invention of its chefs, Darren Norris, Yoshihisa Ota, Hironobu Higashijima and Munehiro Yonemoto, and of Mr. Norris’s wife, Ari Kushimoto Norris, its designer: two dining rooms, split architecturally and gastronomically between a sushi bar and a grilling, or robata, arena. Between the two spaces sits a glass cube, where oysters are shucked and rice is steamed in an enormous barrel. In the 30-seat robata area, two custom-built cherry- and oak-fueled grills fire continuously; just behind, a yakitori grill fueled with imported bincho charcoal sears skewers, order after order. The effect is of a smaller, friendlier version of Kitchen Stadium, the arena from “Iron Chef.”
We started with the onigiri, a pyramid of perfectly seasoned sushi rice wrapped in a seaweed leaf, hiding a Cracker Jack-like prize of a perfectly cooked piece of salmon. Morokyu, stalks of partly shaved cucumber in a silver cup, was accompanied by fermented miso dipping sauce. Miso-marinated black cod, grilled on the robata, was meltingly tender. And there was more from the grill: Japanese eggplant, sweet and juicy, a crunch of sea-salt across the back; and skewered chicken thighs, simple and unadorned. From the sushi bar, hamachi sashimi was thick and disarmingly fresh (flown in that day from Tokyo, we found out later). In the tamago nigiri, the Japanese omelet was the sweetest and tastiest we’d ever had.
