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Tin Fork: The return to Ichiban
The place is not only open, but crowded
Since 1981!
Satomi and Yoko half-recognize me. I know them from like five years ago, when I just had to stop at their place, because — like now, perfect timing! — this is their generous happy hour. Four to eight, every day. Ichiban (“Number One,” in Japanese) is actually run by Japanese people. Satomi and Yoko have been front of house most of its 44 years (It opened in 1981). And they say nothing has changed, outside of a few price increases.
Hmm. I’m tempted. Even though right now, I’ve got a whole lotta nuttin’ rattling in my pocket. I’m so poor I make church mice look like fat cats.
Still, gotta eat. This Saturday afternoon, I’m looking for something modest — comforting but interesting, and, did I mention modest? It’s like 4 o’clock and then some, and half the eateries are closed between lunch and dinner. Ichiban’s not only open, but crowded. Before I know it, I’m inside, wrapped in the bohemian feel of the eight-table dining room and looking into the familiar smiling face of Satomi (her name means “village” or “beauty”).
I sit next to a bunch of ladies: Kathleen. Tess, Allison, and Kit have been coming in for like 30 years. Today is Kathleen's birthday.
Birthday girl Kathleen (left) with buddies Allison, Tessa, and Kit. This is their hangout.
Satomi and Yoko (“Good girl,” “sunlight”) work together like a silent, well-oiled machine, taking orders, fetching meals through the cat curtain that gives you sudden flashes of the kitchen when it parts. Satomi brings the HH menu.
“First, I’ll have the large beer,” I say. “Whatever’s the most flavorful HH one.”
“Sapporo,” says Satomi. She’s back in a moment with a nice frosty 22-ounce bottle. The brewery’s from Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido. Six bucks, down from nine.
Satomi talks to the cat on the kitchen curtain.
So now, food.
Hmm. I should go for the bargain-basement $5 sushi specials: Like the California (krab and avocado), 8 pieces, or avocado and cucumber, or California with spices added. Or, for $1.50 more, spicy tuna with cucumber, or the Philadelphia, so calledt ecause apart from salmon and cucumber, it features cream cheese. I love cream cheese in sushi rolls, but for some reason, I keep looking. Inching up the price list: eel, cucumber and avocado ($7). And a “Sunny” California roll with salmon and avocado on top costs $8.50. So does the Hawaiian, which is the California plus tuna and avocado, or The Rainbow, with assorted sashimi. The most expensive two are the Red Dragon, with fried shrimp, krab, cucumber, and topped with spicy tuna; and The Crunchy. The crunchy idea appeals to me. It’s the same fried shrimp and krab, but topped with tempura crumbs and “special sauces.”
I go for that, even though I’m spending $3.75 more than I have to. Krab and avo would have been fine, but hey, can’t deny the crunch.
The “secret” sauces on top give a sweet-savory flavor to the fried shrimp sushi.
Outside, couples are doing their passeggiata (as the beautiful Diane calls it. She worked in Italy long enough to get the habit): an evening stroll up and down University as the sun lowers. Happy Hour customers in here mostly look like Kathleen and Allison and Tess and Kit: middle level bureaucrats, teachers, students maybe, attracted to the shabby-chic feel and the familiarity. And they all seem to know Satomi and Yoko. “Uh, is your friend any relation to Ms. Ono,” I have to ask when Satomi comes up with my Crunchy. “Yoko is not related to the Beatles’ girlfriend,” she says. Lots of laughter.
I mix up my green wasabi and soy sauce. I squeeze and lift the first of my eight pieces with my chopsticks. Dunk it in the sauce. Take the whole thing in my mouth. Mm. Fried shrimp? Check. Cucumber? Of course. Krab, yes. And the “secret sauces” on top? They have plenty of umami. But the best bit is just the crunch of the tempura — read fried — breadcrumbs. This frying’s not really an ancient Japanese tradition: Portuguese missionaries introduced only 400 years ago.
The ladies get sushi. Except for Allison. She wanted mostly veggies. She gets a luscious-looking bowlful of broccoli, cucumber and fried shrimp. “Sixteen dollars,” she says. “Worth it for me.”
All four clack away expertly with their chopsticks. Kinda makes me conscious of how much I don’t know about sushi etiquette. Like, how you’re supposed to rest chopsticks together, with the eating ends away from you, and pointing to the left. To the right is bad luck. Plus, I find out, never cross your chopsticks. That “X” is a sign of, ulp, death. And never spear your food. Never jam the sticks into rice, leaving them upright. On the other hand, if you’re feeling prosperous, just say omakase. Say it to the itamae, the head sushi chef who in slick joints has probably been through ten years of training in Japan. Omakase gives him permission to give you what he wants, using his best cuts of the day.
Ramen’s becoming the big thing, but sushi’s hanging in there.
I’m kinda surprised, but my eight pieces of The Crunchy are enough to fill me. Beer helps, but — aaargh! — I realize I missed the real treat, hot sake. During Happy Hour, it’s only $4 for a little carafe, $6 for a large. I know some don’t recommend it because it’s made of rice, and slightly bitter, and maybe clashes with the rice of the sushi. But I love it.
I pay up. Just make it. And next day, when I’m kind of having regrets about spending what I did, my friend Tim, who must have figured out I was near the line, brings over an en-tire hot-roasted chicken from Smart and Final. “Three pounds! Only at the S&F Extra store at 2235 University,” he says. “Secret is to go in the last half-hour. They give it to you for half price so they don’t have leftovers. Down from $8.99 to $4.50. That means you and me, just $2.25 each for a meal. A deal!”
“This is at least two meals each, dude,” I say between chomps. “I owe you.”
“You owe me $2.25, dude.”
The Place: Ichiban Sushi and Japanese Restaurant, 1449 University Ave. (at Normal), Hillcrest, 619-299-7203
Hours: 11am-9pm daily (Tuesdays, 4-9pm); happy hour, 4-8pm daily
Happy Hour Prices: California Roll (krab, avocado) $5; avocado and cucumber roll, $5; spicy tuna with cucumber, $6.50; The Philadelphia (salmon, cucumber, cream cheese), $6.50; eel, cucumber and avocado roll, $7; The Sunny (California roll with salmon, avocado on top), $8.50; The Hawaiian (California roll plus tuna, avocado, $8.50; The Rainbow, with assorted sashimi, $8.50; The Red Dragon (fried shrimp, krab, cucumber, spicy tuna) $8.75; The Crunchy (fried shrimp, krab, tempura crumbs, “special sauces,” $8.75
Buses: 1, 7, 10, 11
Nearest Bus Stop: University and Herbert
Here's something you might be interested in.
Tin Fork: The return to Ichiban
The place is not only open, but crowded
Tin Fork: The return to Ichiban
The place is not only open, but crowded
Since 1981!
Satomi and Yoko half-recognize me. I know them from like five years ago, when I just had to stop at their place, because — like now, perfect timing! — this is their generous happy hour. Four to eight, every day. Ichiban (“Number One,” in Japanese) is actually run by Japanese people. Satomi and Yoko have been front of house most of its 44 years (It opened in 1981). And they say nothing has changed, outside of a few price increases.
Hmm. I’m tempted. Even though right now, I’ve got a whole lotta nuttin’ rattling in my pocket. I’m so poor I make church mice look like fat cats.
Still, gotta eat. This Saturday afternoon, I’m looking for something modest — comforting but interesting, and, did I mention modest? It’s like 4 o’clock and then some, and half the eateries are closed between lunch and dinner. Ichiban’s not only open, but crowded. Before I know it, I’m inside, wrapped in the bohemian feel of the eight-table dining room and looking into the familiar smiling face of Satomi (her name means “village” or “beauty”).
I sit next to a bunch of ladies: Kathleen. Tess, Allison, and Kit have been coming in for like 30 years. Today is Kathleen's birthday.
Birthday girl Kathleen (left) with buddies Allison, Tessa, and Kit. This is their hangout.
Satomi and Yoko (“Good girl,” “sunlight”) work together like a silent, well-oiled machine, taking orders, fetching meals through the cat curtain that gives you sudden flashes of the kitchen when it parts. Satomi brings the HH menu.
“First, I’ll have the large beer,” I say. “Whatever’s the most flavorful HH one.”
“Sapporo,” says Satomi. She’s back in a moment with a nice frosty 22-ounce bottle. The brewery’s from Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido. Six bucks, down from nine.
Satomi talks to the cat on the kitchen curtain.
So now, food.
Hmm. I should go for the bargain-basement $5 sushi specials: Like the California (krab and avocado), 8 pieces, or avocado and cucumber, or California with spices added. Or, for $1.50 more, spicy tuna with cucumber, or the Philadelphia, so calledt ecause apart from salmon and cucumber, it features cream cheese. I love cream cheese in sushi rolls, but for some reason, I keep looking. Inching up the price list: eel, cucumber and avocado ($7). And a “Sunny” California roll with salmon and avocado on top costs $8.50. So does the Hawaiian, which is the California plus tuna and avocado, or The Rainbow, with assorted sashimi. The most expensive two are the Red Dragon, with fried shrimp, krab, cucumber, and topped with spicy tuna; and The Crunchy. The crunchy idea appeals to me. It’s the same fried shrimp and krab, but topped with tempura crumbs and “special sauces.”
I go for that, even though I’m spending $3.75 more than I have to. Krab and avo would have been fine, but hey, can’t deny the crunch.
The “secret” sauces on top give a sweet-savory flavor to the fried shrimp sushi.
Outside, couples are doing their passeggiata (as the beautiful Diane calls it. She worked in Italy long enough to get the habit): an evening stroll up and down University as the sun lowers. Happy Hour customers in here mostly look like Kathleen and Allison and Tess and Kit: middle level bureaucrats, teachers, students maybe, attracted to the shabby-chic feel and the familiarity. And they all seem to know Satomi and Yoko. “Uh, is your friend any relation to Ms. Ono,” I have to ask when Satomi comes up with my Crunchy. “Yoko is not related to the Beatles’ girlfriend,” she says. Lots of laughter.
I mix up my green wasabi and soy sauce. I squeeze and lift the first of my eight pieces with my chopsticks. Dunk it in the sauce. Take the whole thing in my mouth. Mm. Fried shrimp? Check. Cucumber? Of course. Krab, yes. And the “secret sauces” on top? They have plenty of umami. But the best bit is just the crunch of the tempura — read fried — breadcrumbs. This frying’s not really an ancient Japanese tradition: Portuguese missionaries introduced only 400 years ago.
The ladies get sushi. Except for Allison. She wanted mostly veggies. She gets a luscious-looking bowlful of broccoli, cucumber and fried shrimp. “Sixteen dollars,” she says. “Worth it for me.”
All four clack away expertly with their chopsticks. Kinda makes me conscious of how much I don’t know about sushi etiquette. Like, how you’re supposed to rest chopsticks together, with the eating ends away from you, and pointing to the left. To the right is bad luck. Plus, I find out, never cross your chopsticks. That “X” is a sign of, ulp, death. And never spear your food. Never jam the sticks into rice, leaving them upright. On the other hand, if you’re feeling prosperous, just say omakase. Say it to the itamae, the head sushi chef who in slick joints has probably been through ten years of training in Japan. Omakase gives him permission to give you what he wants, using his best cuts of the day.
Ramen’s becoming the big thing, but sushi’s hanging in there.
I’m kinda surprised, but my eight pieces of The Crunchy are enough to fill me. Beer helps, but — aaargh! — I realize I missed the real treat, hot sake. During Happy Hour, it’s only $4 for a little carafe, $6 for a large. I know some don’t recommend it because it’s made of rice, and slightly bitter, and maybe clashes with the rice of the sushi. But I love it.
I pay up. Just make it. And next day, when I’m kind of having regrets about spending what I did, my friend Tim, who must have figured out I was near the line, brings over an en-tire hot-roasted chicken from Smart and Final. “Three pounds! Only at the S&F Extra store at 2235 University,” he says. “Secret is to go in the last half-hour. They give it to you for half price so they don’t have leftovers. Down from $8.99 to $4.50. That means you and me, just $2.25 each for a meal. A deal!”
“This is at least two meals each, dude,” I say between chomps. “I owe you.”
“You owe me $2.25, dude.”
The Place: Ichiban Sushi and Japanese Restaurant, 1449 University Ave. (at Normal), Hillcrest, 619-299-7203
Hours: 11am-9pm daily (Tuesdays, 4-9pm); happy hour, 4-8pm daily
Happy Hour Prices: California Roll (krab, avocado) $5; avocado and cucumber roll, $5; spicy tuna with cucumber, $6.50; The Philadelphia (salmon, cucumber, cream cheese), $6.50; eel, cucumber and avocado roll, $7; The Sunny (California roll with salmon, avocado on top), $8.50; The Hawaiian (California roll plus tuna, avocado, $8.50; The Rainbow, with assorted sashimi, $8.50; The Red Dragon (fried shrimp, krab, cucumber, spicy tuna) $8.75; The Crunchy (fried shrimp, krab, tempura crumbs, “special sauces,” $8.75
Buses: 1, 7, 10, 11
Nearest Bus Stop: University and Herbert
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