A haven for the sushi purist

MAYBE it’s the weather, but lately, nobody’s asking about French food or Moroccan boites, Cantonese seafood houses or places to get a great breakfast. When I meet someone new, I’m always asked -- maybe in the first few minutes, maybe at an hour’s acquaintance -- for the name of my favorite sushi bar. The hope is that I’ll pull some bargain-priced gem out of my purse, some address I’ve been keeping all to myself.

Sorry, no go. Because of the prices that top quality -- and very, very fresh -- seafood commands, good sushi can never be inexpensive. Dinner at Urasawa starts at $250 a person. Mori Sushi can run $100 or more.

Ever wonder why so many sushi bars feature American-style sushi, the kind with wacky sauces and menus with the adjectives “spicy” and “crispy” before every dish? The better to disguise inferior fish. That’s not the only reason, of course. Americans tend to like strong flavors and in local sushi bars, many aficionados rev up their soy sauce with enough wasabi to supply an entire restaurant of patrons in Tokyo or Osaka. Elaborate sushi rolls do an even more effective job of disguising the quality of the fish. Who can tell what’s wrapped up in that pretty package? Savvy sushi chefs with their rows of squirt bottles filled with signature sauces can get by with fish that would never pass muster in traditional sushi restaurants.

In Nobu Matsuhisa’s hands, the new-style sashimi can be extraordinary, but as his ideas have been copied and copied again, the hand-me-down results have not always been a step forward, and I’ve become more and more of a sushi purist.

That’s why when a friend raves about Sushi Yotsuya, a traditional sushi restaurant he’s discovered in Tarzana, I listen up, and on a sweltering summer night find myself parking in a nondescript strip mall that looks exactly, and I mean exactly, like the one that’s home to Sushi Nozawa in Studio City, the cult grumpy-chef sushi restaurant. It couldn’t be more different in mood.

Though Yotsuya is a very modest place, some effort has been made at decoration. The walls are covered in sprigged wallpaper. A clock marks the time with plastic sushi in place of numbers. Posters of seafood hang in the hallway, and the bathroom ceiling is papered in a fan pattern. And in the corner, on a bulky television set with the sound turned off, Dr. Phil dispenses advice to hapless guest couples.

On that first visit, as we step further into the room, the assistant sushi chef asks us if we’ve been here before. When we answer no, he quickly explains that they serve only traditional sushi. If we had looked, we might have noticed the board just inside the entrance that warns, “No! California rolls, spicy tuna, tempura, teriyaki. No! American-style rolls.”

That’s exactly why I’m here.

Chef-owner Masa Matsumoto gives us a genial nod as we slip onto a couple of seats at the bar. I like the way he moves, confident and relaxed. He looks like somebody comfortable in his skin. Rules agreed upon -- only omakase (chef’s choice) at the bar -- we order Japanese beers and take the wrappers off our chopsticks. I read the poem printed on the wrapper: “Iridescent fish layered distinctly as if fallen from a cloud. Combination of perfect blade and stroke. Fish arranged like spring blossoms.”

Sushi Yotsuya is an easygoing kind of place, and it seems perfectly natural when the woman next to us smiles and asks if we’ve been here before. No?

“Oh, you’re going to love it,” she tells us. “Masa is the best of the best!” Her daughter is home from college, and she’s brought her in for a sushi fix. It’s expensive, she tells me, with a wince that turns into a grin. But so good, she can’t go anywhere else. Sometimes, her bill is $55; sometimes it can be as high as $80 a person, but that’s rare.

Surprise beginnings

WE’RE ready. Masa-san passes a small dish with wiggly cubes of muted green. Custard? Tofu? I take a bite and I taste crab -- not crabmeat, but the rich funk of tomalley, that delectable green stuff that clings to the inside of the carapace. How delicious, and cool. It’s like eating crab tomalley jello and on a tropical summer night, it’s as refreshing as a bowl of gazpacho.

But then he sets out the tray for sushi with pink pickled ginger and wasabi. The latter is a pale, almost mint green, made from a powder instead of the freshly grated root that most top sushi restaurants I know use. There is a difference in taste: The fresh wasabi is gentler and more nuanced, while the one mixed from a powder supplies a focused blast of heat. Soy sauce is standard issue as well. And the beverage choices are minimal: a couple of generic wines, a plum wine, and some regular sakes and the usual beers, the best of which is Orion. If you want something fancier with your sushi, bring Champagne or a good bottle of Austrian Riesling.

The chef slips us a plate of albacore sashimi crowned with some sliced scallions and a dab of grated daikon. The satiny slices of fish sit in a shallow puddle of very light ponzu.

I’m confused now. The quality of the fish is beautiful, so fresh it almost melts against the palate. But this is an American-style dish, very restrained as these things go. Maybe this is one he just happens to like. I wonder, though, if he’d serve the same dish to a Japanese customer. It’s a moot point; it turns out it’s the sole item that’s not traditional.

Across the room, a fan who has moved away to another state has stopped in to catch up. He’s snapping pictures and devouring piece after piece of sushi while he can, because where he lives now, he tells Matsumoto, you can’t get sushi like this.

You can’t get sushi like this very many places in Los Angeles either. This is a chef who goes early to the Japanese fish market four or five times a week. He has a shrewd eye for the best fish. He may not have the broad selection that some sushi restaurants offer, but every piece of fish he gives you is impeccable.

I watch the friend I’ve brought along pick up her first piece of sushi, a sliver of pale pink toro on an oval of rice with the barest hint of warmth. She dips the fish side in her soy sauce and slides the sushi into her mouth all in one bite. A groan, or is it a happy hum, escapes her. She’s in the zone now, savoring every bite as we’re fed bites of sushi, two by two, like hungry baby birds.

Next up is halibut, a pearlescent slice of the raw fish, with a delicate, sweet briny taste. With its firm texture and lively taste, Japanese snapper, blushed with pink, is one of my favorites. Then comes silvery, dark-fleshed Spanish mackerel and a beautiful satiny piece of bonito.

We’re taking our time, and Matsumoto doesn’t hurry us. He talks a little, asks regulars about their families, all the while turning out pair after pair of textbook sushi. A coral slice of salmon wears a clear postage stamp of kelp, a squeeze of yuzu and some sea salt, all the better to play up the rich fattiness of the fish.

In one corner, two families have pushed some tables together and, finished eating, linger companionably. Babies are rocked, little girls amused, while the adults talk. I can’t imagine this scene at any other sushi restaurant I know. Yotsuya is its own world.

What you get doesn’t vary all that much from visit to visit. Sometimes there’s baby albacore or superb hamachi. Sometimes he’ll offer tiny Kumamoto oysters in their gnarly shells to eat in one gulp. Often, he’ll set out a jumbo clam and an orange clam side by side. Crinkled and ivory pink, they look a little like ears. And how delicious eaten raw like this. The texture is firm and chewy, and the taste is pure sea, enhanced with a silvery note of shiso leaf.

Loyal following

AS we’re polishing off our last -- no, second to last -- round of sushi one night, a man slips onto a corner stool. “Masa-san, I’ve missed you,” he says. Turns out he’s just back from a couple of months abroad, and this is his first stop. He normally eats here two or three times a week.

Another couple of fans tell me they have a running tab. They may wince when they get the bill, but they never regret it.

“Monkfish liver,” announces Matsumoto, setting down a plate. Think foie gras, only from fish, and you’ll get the idea. Normally, it’s served plain, but Matsumoto cloaks the unctuous fish liver in a sharp yuzu emulsion, which moderates its richness. A few bites: It’s brilliant.

In a town where the fact that a sushi chef worked with Nobu Matsuhisa or Kazunori Nozawa is enough to create an instant audience, where does Matsumoto fit in? He goes back years, starting out at Hiro Sushi, then working here at Yotsuya. He bought the place six years ago and does a steady, if not frantic business.

Now his longtime assistant has left to open his own place. The regulars all wonder if it’s open yet, and like a proud papa, Matsumoto passes out business cards to anybody who asks.

We savor some sweet ochre sea urchin wrapped in a band of green-black nori. And for those still hungry, the chef cracks a new pack of the sheets of seaweed and puts together a crab and rice hand roll as the grand finale. It’s enough. After a meal like this, sushi seems like the perfect food. And in summertime, there’s nothing better.

So, I’m thinking as we head out to the car, I can come up with the address of a terrific sushi bar. It may not be inexpensive, but for traditional sushi of this quality, it is something of a bargain.

*

Sushi Yotsuya

Rating: ** 1/2

Location: 18760 Ventura Blvd., Tarzana, (818) 708-9675.

Ambience: Modest sushi bar in nondescript mini-mall with an easygoing chef-owner who turns out impeccable traditional sushi.

Service: Gracious and unobtrusive.

Price: Omakase (chef’s choice), $55 to $80 per person; sushi and sashimi, $4.50 to $8.50; rolls, $4.50; dessert, $2.50.

Best dishes: Omakase, crab jelly, albacore sashimi with ponzu, Kumamoto oysters, rice with salmon roe, straightforward sushi, crab hand roll.

Wine list: The usual Japanese beers, plum wine and a modest array of sakes.

Best table: A corner seat at the sushi bar.

Details: Open for lunch noon to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday; dinner 5:30 to 10 p.m. Monday through Saturday. Closed Sunday. Beer and sake. Lot parking in front.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.