Quantity, Quality Reel in Tokyo Sushi Crowd

Keiko Ishii traveled more than an hour from the suburbs to have lunch at Edokko Zushi, a restaurant recommended by a friend. Ishii was so astonished by the portions, she dubbed the place bikkuri zushi--surprise sushi.

“I’ve never been to a shop where they served such a huge portion of uni [sea urchin] and ikura [salmon eggs],” she said, eyeing the cascade of orange roe overflowing from one seaweed-wrapped rice ball and the inch-high mustard-yellow urchin heaped atop another.

Those delicacies--among the most expensive sushi morsels--are allotted parsimoniously at typical sushiyas. Edokko offers them up at triple the size and about a third the typical price. The crowds the shop draws in response make up for the slim profit margin that Edokko restaurants earn on each piece.

Indeed, when it comes to reeling in a bargain on one of Japan’s favorite--and most expensive--delicacies, Edokko Zushi is one place where recession-strapped Tokyoites flock. It’s a far cry from the tony, high-class places where Tokyo’s executives and “salarymen” once lived large. It is representative of the type of value-oriented places that are thriving in Japan nowadays despite the anemic economy.

While most sushi restaurants serve up refined, delicate pieces of fish that are half the size of a pinky finger, Edokko serves up whoppers--huge slabs of raw fish far bigger than standard-size rice balls. The shrimp is about the size of a Three Musketeers bar, the scallops equivalent to a half-dollar coin.

Huge portions, high quality and relatively low prices are what draw about 2,500 customers a day to the seven bustling Edokko restaurants, six of them clustered within three blocks of the lively Kanda section near the capital’s financial district.

From the four-room business office, managers monitor live video feeds from the stores, deploying the 40 sushi chefs to where the crowds are heaviest. Each shop has only about a dozen seats at a long wooden counter, and customers waiting to eat stand either right behind the diners or outside.

While other, more elegant and more expensive sushiyas are seeing their business plunge amid economic hard times and cutbacks in once-lavish corporate entertainment, Edokko is booming, selling just under $1 million worth of sushi a month, far more than many other sushiyas take in in a year.

That’s testament to the growing emphasis that Japanese place on receiving value for their money.

“I know the economy is bad and we have to cut back, but this is one luxury we shouldn’t deny ourselves,” said lawyer and Edokko regular Akira Iwasaki, 70, clad in a suit and tie as he waited in a 20-minute line after work the other night. “It’s good to eat this quality food for this price.”

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Iwasaki caught a train from his office in tony Ginza to Kanda, which is known for its cheap eats and watering holes. The Edokko restaurants--started up in 1955 with the slogan “10-yen sushi”--are close enough to the busy train station’s west exit that they pick up sizable walk-by business.

Edokko is as different from Tokyo’s upscale sushiyas as a minnow is from a whale.

Forget atmosphere--Edokko doesn’t have any. Unattractive fluorescent lights illuminate the cramped restaurants. Moreover, in a country where lingering for hours over sushi, sake and cigarettes is de rigueur, Edokko limits meals at peak hours to 40 minutes, prohibits smoking and limits liquor to two bottles of sake or beer.

“If you want to drink,” manager Akira Sakuma said, “you should go to other shops.”

Although Sakuma doesn’t pull punches when it comes to rating Edokko’s ambience, giving it “one star or even zero stars,” the chain doesn’t scrimp on the quality of the food, which he awards three stars.

“Most customers can’t tell the difference from the best sushiyas in Tokyo,” he insisted. One reason: Edokko goes to the huge Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo every morning to buy its sushi, whereas small sushiyas typically go every other day.

Edokko has other novel marketing strategies as well. It deliberately installs clear glass doors at its shops so potential customers can see the array of patrons inside, from salarymen and “office ladies” to older women and families; that diversity encourages customers to come inside. Many other sushi shops feature sliding wooden doors that are lovely--but don’t give any clue as to how expensive the sushi is or how rich the typically businessman clientele.

Sushi chef Katsuhisa Otsuka said the variety of customers makes working at Edokko more fun than the other shops where he has been employed, adding: “There are a lot more female customers.”

Unlike most other Tokyo restaurants, which annoyingly cut off lunch service by 2 p.m. or earlier, Edokko stays open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m., catching business from those who like to eat lunch late.

Prices remain the same from lunch to dinner, which is also unusual. Whereas a sushi dinner at one of the most expensive sushiyas in Tokyo can easily set a well-heeled customer back $200 to $300, and even a moderate restaurant can tally up $40 to $100, without drinks, Edokko’s mixed sets of about 10 pieces range from $7 to $15, with a la carte choices going for $1.50 to $4.

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Edokko does have drawbacks, of course.

Some people don’t like their sushi big and heavy, preferring bite-sized pieces. And then there are the crowds and the rush.

“It was cheap and delicious, but I wish I could have relaxed a little longer,” one young secretary said after quickly downing a meal with a trio of co-workers before heading to a karaoke bar.

The crowds were what drew Tsuguo Kajiwara, 30, a beefy suburban government worker, who figured the restaurant had to be good to be so popular.

“It’s like a mountain over the rice--it’s unbelievable,” Kajiwara said as he feasted on the sea urchin with a friend. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

As the duo ordered a third beer after asking to split a third set of sushi between them, sushi chef Otsuka good-naturedly ordered them to “eat, eat.” He pointed to a sign asking “dear customers” to understand that the restaurant limits alcohol--for reasons of expediency rather than intoxication.

“I’ve been nice today and am giving you one more beer,” Otsuka told the men. “But you have to eat faster.”

Kajiwara said he often eats at inexpensive “rotation” sushi restaurants that have also become quite popular as the Japanese move downscale. At these restaurants, customers choose sushi from a moving conveyor belt, and tabs are tallied by counting the number of plates.

But Edokko’s quality is far better, Kajiwara concluded after his inaugural visit.

Some customers now even entertain clients there, something that once would have been considered gauche in Japan.

“They’re appreciative because they didn’t know about it,” said Shotaro Watanabe, a regular customer. The tab for him and his salesman friend Yasuo Ogura, who was on a business trip from Osaka: $42, including the beer.

It was, Watanabe said, a real bargain for a night out in Tokyo.