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Raise the red lanterns By Paul Reidinger
If you thought the expression "red light district" was just a figure of speech, you have not been through the intersection of Guerrero and 22nd Streets lately. There, above the entryway to one of the storefront spaces on the southeast face of Guerrero, a spherical red lantern has been glowing for the past few months, summoning curious passersby to an intense experience of the flesh — though not of the bordello sort (sorry to disappoint) but the oceanic. For the red lantern is the principal design motif of Kiji, and Kiji is a chic new sushi spot, opened by Eddie Hong at the end of October [tk 2005]. You are likely to find Hong himself behind the bar, since he is also the head sushi chef. A sushi restaurant really would be almost unrecognizable without a bar (not to mention a sushi chef), and this is especially true in the case of Kiji, which, with its sage-green walls and intimate Victorian clutter of small dining rooms (there are three, linked railroad-car style), resembles a trattoria more than a typical bamboo-screen, tinkling-water Japanese restaurant. In fact the space was occupied in the recent past by a trattoria — really more of a pizza parlor — called La Focaccia. Although I have only the foggiest memories of what La Focaccia looked like inside, I am quite certain it did not have the festive array of red lanterns — some spherical, others conical, all apparently of paper — that glow above the heads of Kiji's patrons. The lanterns' lurid light does not necessarily proclaim sushi, but it does add a subtle flavoring of sensuality and mystery to an otherwise reserved setting. Hong's food, on the other hand, is far from reserved. Even the standard dishes are executed with notable liveliness. A seaweed salad ($4.95) — a tangled mop of opalescent green kelp flecked with sesame seeds and dressed with a tangy combination of (dark) sesame oil and soy sauce — is a worthy doppelg ä nger to sauerkraut. ("Cabbage of the sea," is that a saleable phrase?) Equally tangy is tako su ($6.95), a small, steep bowl filled with coins of calamari and cucumber. We did come across one disappointing dud among the cooked dishes, and that was the vegetable gyoza ($7.50), beautifully pan-seared pot stickers whose blend of mushrooms and tofu insufficiently stood in for the standard minced pork. An additional indignity: The pot stickers disintegrated when, in efforts to revive them, we dunked them in the accompanying saucer of ponzu. As is usual at hipster sushi spots — sushi is hipster food, and Kiji is rich in hipsters — the menu offers a wide selection of rolls, many bearing whimsical names and assembled from distinctive, if not necessarily traditional, ingredients. Hong seems to be quite fond of the avocado, for instance; it turns up in the excellent spicy tuna roll ($5.95), where chunks of it are bundled with tuna, cucumber, mayonnaise, and sriracha (a garlic-chili paste). More avocado is to be found in the Guerrero roll ($6.95), with yellowtail, eel, scallions, and tobiko — an impressive-sounding cast of characters that, for my taste, turned out to fall a bit too much under the oniony sway of the scallions. Spider rolls, crunchy with tempura-<\d>fried crab, are bullet-proof, and Hong's version ($9.95) is no exception, despite the absence of avocado. (Standing in are slivers of cucumber and sprinklings of tobiko, but these are just valets, really, to the star crustacean.) Also avocadoless is the vegetable futo maki ($6.50), a fleshless roll stuffed with spinach, sprouts, shiitake mushrooms and gobo (also known as burdock root and prized in China for its medicinal properties). As with the vegetarian gyoza, we found the meatless roll to be pleasant enough, though slightly underpowered and in need of an assertive constituent. On the plus side: It did not fall apart when handled. Hard-core sushi-ists, for whom rolls carry a stigma similar to that of training wheels, will find a substantial list of nigiri offerings — slices of raw fish on tiny altars of rice. In winter (the only time for sushi, really, as for oysters) I am drawn as if by some spell to albacore, which is often taken locally and despite its low fat content has a butteriness I prefer to that of the more esteemed, fattier, ruby-<\d>colored maguro. Hong was vague on the provenance of his albacore nigiri ($3.75), assuring me only that it came from the Pacific, an ocean that covers about a quarter of the globe. The fish was fine, but it lacked a certain sheen, and I came away supposing that its Pacific origins were of the more remote sort. Japanese restaurants are seldom celebrated for their desserts, and Kiji is no exception. Choices are limited to mochi-style ice cream (pats of ice cream wrapped like profiteroles in balls of rice-flour pastry), though the variety of flavors does extend beyond green tea. The chocolate kind, laced with chunks of dark chocolate, was creditable if not special. There is also mango sherbet, for those not inclined toward mochi. For those not inclined toward either, perhaps a last blast of sake, from one of the many bottles displayed in the built-in wall cases, might do the trick. Service is friendly and attentive, with the usual caveats in effect for those seated at the bar — the best place by far to enjoy sushi — where food and drink come from two directions and confusion about who gets what, and how many, and for how much, is always a possibility. I raise a red flag here, but a small one, of the lapel variety. KIJI Sun., Tues.–<\d>Thurs., 5–<\d>10 p.m. Fri.–<\d>Sat., 5–<\d>10:30 p.m. 1009 Guerrero, SF (415) 282-0400 www.kijirestaurant.com Beer, sake, and wine AE/MC/V Not particularly noisy Wheelchair accessible |
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