RESTAURANTS : Upscale Sushi Bar Serves Quality Japanese Food at Bargain Prices

“I don’t believe it,” says my wife, Keiko, as she eyes the long line at the front desk of Taiko, a white-hot Irvine restaurant that does not take reservations. “In Japan, even Michael Jackson is not this popular.”

Keiko, a Tokyo native, has been looking forward to eating at this upscale sushi bar for months; she looks positively downcast when the hostess gives her the bad news: “Table . . . one hour. Sushi bar . . . 40 minutes.”

“Let’s go,” she says, pulling at my sleeve. “In Japan, nobody waits one hour to eat sushi.”

I stand my ground. This, as I remind my wife, is not Japan, and one just doesn’t find good Japanese food on every street corner. And because sushi, with its health farm demeanor and minimalist appeal, is almost perfect fodder for the narcissistic ‘80s, there is usually a crowd at the better establishments.

We fight our way through a group of lean and sun-drenched types and stand beneath one of the imitation Hiroshiges that give the restaurant its campy charm.

In a scant 20 minutes, we are able to belly up to the sushi bar. We sit next to a faddist with the facial expression of a Buddhist monk and the body of an aerobics instructor. I suggest that we begin with a large bottle of Sapporo draft, the way Japanese businessmen do, but Keiko, looking around, insists on sake. “When in America,” she says gleefully, “do as the Americans do.”

The faddist has his own pine sake box, complete with embossed nickname, and it is plain to see that he is a regular. “Have the spicy tuna roll,” he tells me without looking up. A solemn-looking woman in leotards is religiously picking green horseradish out of a clump of rice. Three stools down, some Japanese businessmen are watching her surreptitiously. “Hai,” shouts one of the chefs, standing directly above us.

Keiko asks for omakase , “chef’s choice,” and so he trundles off, his knife wobbling under a muscular arm. Moments later he comes rocketing back. “Ten specials today,” he informs us, “all huge. Take too long to explain.” “Fine,” I tell him, “why don’t you give us No. 1 and 2.”

Special No. 1 turns out to be about as Japanese as a church supper dish in Maine. Wafer-thin rolled cucumber has been stuffed with a mayonnaise-rich crab salad and little pieces of crab. It reminds me of the crab sandwiches I ate in New England as a kid, with the cucumber a poor substitute for hot dog buns. “Try a piece?” I say to the regular next to me. He waves his hand in my face.

Moments later we are brought special No. 2--baked scallops in a thin bechamel sauce, served in a giant shell.

Just ordering off the menu proves to be a better idea. We try abalone butteryaki. It is a treat--batter-fried in fresh oil and served with a dish of ponzu , a pungent sauce made primarily from rice vinegar. Assorted sushi such as tarako , cod roe, are fresh and snappy. The yellowtail has a clean, flowery fragrance, nicely offset by some sliced fresh ginger from our sushi trays. The chef tells us that Norwegian salmon is available, and we consume two orders. It is as soft and sweet as Wisconsin butter.

About this time I begin to get restless for something more exotic. The selection here is quite limited, I tell Keiko. “Don’t worry,” she informs me, “Japanese people always keep something really special around.” She chats briefly with the cocktail waitress, and there is a short pause. Four tiny, fingernail-size crabs arrive on a little dish-- hamagani --and we crunch them down almost immediately. Now the waitress brings a little pot called a dobin and pours out some broth into the miniature saucer that doubles as a top for the pot. The dobin is full of mushrooms and seafood, all steamed together. (This wonderful dish is called dobinmushi ; don’t be shy to request it).

The other dishes are anticlimactic. Uni , sea urchin, comes wrapped in seaweed and is just fair, not nearly as creamy or as sharp as it should be. Sesame chicken, from the regular dinner menu, is little more than chicken rolled in cornstarch, with some invisible and undetectable sesame seed in the batter. Beef teriyaki, a totally American dish, is about as good as you have a right to expect American food to be in a Japanese restaurant.

If you want the best of Taiko, sit at the sushi bar. The selection of sushi is limited in the main dining area, and the waitresses are not allowed to bring the various specials to the table. The regular menu, which is not dramatically different than that of any other Japanese restaurant in the area, is certainly not worth waiting in line for.

Taiko is a bargain, considering the generally high quality. Sushi is $2 to $3.50. Sashimi is $4 and up. Appetizers are $2 to $6. Regular dinners are $6.75 to $11.75. Combination dinners are $8.75.

TAIKO

14775 Jeffrey Road, Irvine

(714) 559-7190

Open daily for lunch, 11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m.; dinner, 5 to 10 p.m.

MasterCard and Visa accepted