My favorite Sushi restaurant in Los Angeles has always been Sasabune. Like most people, I preferred it when they were in that little weird abandoned gas station on Sawtelle, but the new place is fine. It’s big and sort of antiseptic, but the food remains great.
There is no menu. However, there’s a sign on the wall, and it says: “No California Roll, No Tuna Roll, Trust Me.” They just bring you food, and at some point the food stops arriving. You’re welcome to give some guidance of course. Karen isn’t big on shelfish, so she foregoes the scallop in favor of some albacore.
I will not attempt food writing, it’s a discipline that eludes me. But I can tell you they use the freshest and best fish available, and they make the sushi with warm rice. This brings out the flavor of the fish even more, and ensures that the food is made just before you eat it – nothing pre-made that morning for the lunch rush.
But one thing that’s always baffled me is the poem on the disposable chop stick wrapper. It’s unchanged in the eight years that I’ve been going there. I will share it with you here, because every Friday ought to end with a poem:
Sushi – Delicate Snowflakes rest on warm, sweet rice beds flavors interwined. Transclucent jewel -(sliced) natural perfection – slide into my mouth. Trust Me!
Spelling, boldness, and punctuation left intact for your pleasure.
Shabbat Shalom, have a good weekend.