Restaurant Review: Sakagura
The sign outside of Sakagura is a perfect representation of the restaurant as a whole: to use one of my favorite clichés, it’s like putting pearls on a pig. Maybe I’m squeamish, but I had my doubts about the place when I discovered I had to walk through an office building, past a security guard, and downstairs to the basement through a cinderblock hallway to get to the dining area. The restaurant was nicely decorated, with lots of bamboo and spot lighting, but I couldn’t help feeling that the dark look was less trendy and more meant to hide the fact that we were sitting in a dank back room.
From the moment the bottle of sake arrived, though, it didn’t matter. My dinner date, Kamran, and I had settled on what was supposed to be some milky, nutty, dense sake that I’d hoped would sit on our stomachs like a glass of Guinness, but our server steered us away from it and instead suggested their seasonal sake. After seeing the giant spread for it in the sake menu, I figured she was just required to push it, but it turned out that light, sweet, and springy was totally befitting to the meal we were about to have.
If anyone can read that label, please do and get back to me.
I was glad our friend had taken us to a genuine sake joint a while back and taught us to drink from boxes, or this would’ve been completely befuddling. In case you’ve never had sake served this way, your server will overfill the box, letting some sake slosh into the bowl. Without looking like a cheapskate, you can totally tip the contents of the bowl back into the box and finish it.
Our first dish was a quad of tori tsukune or chicken meatballs ($6), which I’d really like to become a connoisseur of. I’ve had them from at least five different Asian joints at this point, and I love each more than the last. These were much more meaty than bready, just the way Kamran likes them. (I, on the other hand, am a carb glutton and want everything to taste entirely refined.) But dipped in salt, I could’ve made an entire meal of these things:
Our second dish was the entire reason we went to Sakagura in the first place: the jaga dango, described as “mashed potatoes coated in sweet donut batter fried crisp” ($6). This was real, live donuts 4 dinner:
And it was good, of course, because everything doughed and fried is good. The problem was that the dough overpowered the mashed potatoes. It ended up being one flavor, one color, and one texture:
And I’m not complaining! But I guess I just wanted some butter or some truffle oil thrown in. You know, to make it completely un-Japanese.
Our next dish was not for the faint of heart. It was listed on the menu as “buta kakuni, Sakagura’s special stewed diced pork” ($4.50), which had me expecting a measly spoonful of pork bits, but all of the reviews suggested it was the best thing on the menu. What arrived was a two-inch by two-inch by two-inch square of what resembled brown gelatin. But it was actually a thick layer of fat with a thin layer of pork underneath. Followed by another thick layer of fat and another thin layer of pork. For someone raised to cut every bit of gristle off a hunk of meat, this seemed devilish.
And it tasted it, too. The dab of spicy mustard on the side of the bowl, the sprinkling of microgreens on top, and the sweet liquid the pork was resting in formed one of the most mind-blowingly delicious dishes I’ve ever had. Some of that mind-blowingness may have come from the shock that it didn’t taste as disgusting as it looked, but I can’t argue with the fact that the fat literally melted in our mouths.
When my dumpling was finished, I tried to drink the remainder of the liquid, but it was just too intense for me. And I’m the kind of girl who likes chocolate bars made with 85% cacao, so intense is something I do well. It was just so porky yet so candied, so savory yet so sweet. I asked Kamran to finish my bowl off for me, which left him with this look of delight on his face:
Next, we had the gyu miso nikomi, which was “shredded beef back ribs stewed in miso topped with grated daikon radish” ($6.50), and it was another pleasant surprise. I like beef, and I like radish, but I had no idea what grated radish wetted with some miso broth could do for the texture of some tender beef. And the shisho leaf! I could have eaten that alone by the poundful.
The final savory dish was the tori karaage, “deep fried chunks of chicken marinade in sake and ginger infused soy sauce” ($7). Had it been the only plate we’d had, it would’ve been great, but after fatty pork and radishy beef, it just couldn’t compare. Although I certainly appreciated the lovely lemon sculpture:
After all of that food, we really didn’t have room for dessert, but there was black sesame crème brûlée with black sesame ice cream ($7)!
It was a sort of thin sesame cookie/biscuit/brittle over sesame ice cream over a very complex crème brûlée, but it was all oddly un-sweet. In a way that we liked. It wasn’t a dessert for everyone, certainly, but I doubt that any of their desserts are. Coffee gelatin, anyone?
Truly, it was a fantastic experience. We raved about it for hours and then days and can’t wait to go back.
17 Comments
Ash
*drools all over laptop*
plumpdumpling
I’m drooling right back after telling Kamran about that tiramisu you made for yesterday.
Kelly
1. I would TOTALLY have a food blog if I could write this eloquently (and passionately) about food. But it seems I can only write semi-eloquently about things like my Chihuahua and falling down. It’s kind of sad, really.
2. I am so glad someone in the world loves food as much as I do. It makes me feel less alone.
3. OMG BLACK SESAME ICE CREAM WTF!!!1!
4. Everyone in the world needs to read Katie Ett’s blogs every single day. It should be, like, a LAW or something.
plumpdumpling
Your Chihuahua stories truly are the best around, though. And besides, there’s only Applebee’s and Krystals where you live, right? HA.
Food is my biggest joy and my biggest bane. I can’t imagine NOT eating for pleasure.
I think you were drunk when you wrote the last two line, but I don’t want to call you out and embarrass you. But seriously, you need help.
spaghedeity
Yeah, well, I’ve been to Japan.
spaghedeity
Ew, why does your blog assign me an icon? You know I wouldn’t use an icon so gay.
plumpdumpling
Listen, I gave you the chance to get a Gravatar on Blog #2, and you didn’t take it, so this time around, I gave you a gay placeholder to punish you. When you choose to get a Gravatar, you can pick the un-gay icon of your dreams.
plumpdumpling
Oh, funny you mention it, because I was thinking about that just yesterday. Here’s what I was wondering: how do you get into those sleeping pods? Are they all on floor-level, or are there little ladders?
spaghedeity
The ones I slept in were two high and had little ladders to the top one.
Speaking of bunk beds, did you ever have a little brother/sister sleep on the top bunk while you slept on the bottom? And did he/she wet the bed? And did the urine soak through the mattress and start dripping on your face?
This happened to my cousin once.
curly wurly gurly
dude…you are the ponce de leon of food!!!!!!! you’re so brave it’s scary. i would NEVER (and i mean never) be as daring as you. it took me 32 years to work up the nerve to try MUSTARD, for god’s sake. i have the palate of a 7-year-old. pork fat gelatin?!?!?! i have no words.
i ate at le souk a while back and had panic attacks for a week leading up to the actual meal. i circumvented death by flavor by telling them i was allergic to EVERYTHING and that i would die on their cozy little pouf chair if they didn’t bring me plain grilled chicken and steamed veggies. hahahah. it was hilarious.
i love your new bloggo, by the way. the candy background rules!!!
plumpdumpling
Ha. I thought this was the most flattering comment ever, but Kamran was like, “She’s kidding, right? She’s mocking you.” Ouch. The mustard thing cracked me up, though. Especially because I remember rolling up bologna and squirting mustard into it ALL THE TIME as a kid. How’d you end up feeling about the mustard?
Le Souk looks goooood. And I’ve totally pulled that “I’m allergic” thing. I hate tomatoes so much that even the flavor that remains when I take a tomato off a hamburger makes me want to puke. Yet “no tomatoes, please” doesn’t seem to mean a thing to restaurants. “I WILL DIE IF THERE’S A TOMATO WITHIN A MILE OF ME” tends to work wonders, though.
Everyone else is under the impression that this is the ugliest blog possible, so thank you for understanding.
sonya
Yay! We need to all go together, I love that place. Did you go to the bathroom? It looks like a giant sake container, like the old ones
K
The name of the sake (name on bottle) is “Masumi”
plumpdumpling
Hey, thank you! I never thought anyone would actually read that and answer instead of just quietly laughing at me in their heads.
chubbychinesegirl
I loooove this place!!!!! everything is so good! their sesame creme brulee def one of my favorites!
plumpdumpling
I wish someone had told me about it sooner! My boyfriend and I used to walk past it, but the fact that it’s in an office building creeped me out a bit. Now that I’ve been to Bonchon and other office building restaurants, though, it doesn’t seem so weird.
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