Vancity Vibes | DAY 17 (Pt. 2): Raisu

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Dinner plans were slated in the upcoming hours. It was in this period that confusion ensued, for while my planning had been immaculate - even if I do say so myself, hectic lifestyles often lead to forgetfulness and careless skimming.

​At first glance, it may seem like the world and its occupants has betrayed your earlier agreements, when, in reality, there is little that organization can do when the facts are not read and the text is not processed.

​In an attempt to postpone the reservation just hours prior, we were informed that we could either maintain it or surrender and try our luck with walk-ins for bar spots. My ride chose the former, and I hurried to ensure no further delays.

Raisu had been an eatery of interest for over two years and counting. In fact, it had been my first choice for Japanese fare in 2020 - that is, until I was denied the opportunity in favour of the Chinese-operated Kyabia.

​Hidden between a fish market and produce stall, the renowned restaurant was located on a second floor space, entrance indicated by nothing else beyond a cloth curtain bearing its name and the most typical of Asian household appliances: the ricecooker.

​At the top of the stairs was a landing area and hostess table. There, we were greeted and our reservation details verified. We were informed that, due to the outdoor dining area being full, my patio request could not be granted. Guided past the bar seats, we were shown a dim table in the corner of the restaurant with a clear view of the kitchen, rectangular bar area, and patio. It was a roomy booth with ample space for mobility, but illumination was severely lacking.

A vacant two-seater was observed on the patio, and we posed the request again, but this time to the waitress. She agreed to shift us over, warning that it was less spacious.

​The compact space mattered less than the brighter view that was bestowed upon us. Natural brilliance seeped through the windows, providing a clearer view of our orders and overall environment.

​​Curiosity had been piqued by the Special Otoro Blue Fin Tuna menu. Upon closer examination, the Kaiseki Course would provide greater variety at a comparatively reasonable price. Our initial belief was of the opinion that the "for two" subheading meant two picks per person, allowing us to sample small plates of raw and cooked specialties. However, the waitress clarified afterwards that, while selections were limited to one per section, portions were sufficient enough for sharing

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​​A complimentary House Sake was served to start. Its name, Naminooto Kabosu, was unfamiliar to me, yet I enjoyed it nonetheless. The waitress' command of English was still inferior to Japanese, so it was difficult to comprehend her answers at times. Her inquiry of our sake choice had been confused with the sake element of the Aperitif. Three muddled exchanges took place before it dawned on me that the components of the Spot Prawn Shooter were fixed.
The shooter was delicious, with sweet pomegranate seeds to counter barely-set, supple egg custard.​

​My off-menu drink pick of the Echigo Koshihikari Rice Lager also earned positive feedback. Brewed to reflect earthiness amidst an easy-drinking lager profile, the beer paired fantastically with the evening's diverse assortment of fish, greens, and carbs.

​​Courses would arrive out of order with tremendous speed, the arrival of one overlapping with the consumption period of its predecessor.

The Chef's Choice Sashimi was served in a round wooden bucket, accompanied by shiso leaves, a single slice of lemon, and wasabi supported by a small wooden spoon. Each variety was topped with a different hue to tobiko, and assumed different positions along the spectrum of fat content. Petal-topped wakame acted as a palate cleanser between bites.

Grilled Fish is a traditional Japanese dish that, when executed well, speaks to the soul in the most spectacular, untainted way. Mackerel is amongst my favourites, proving challenging to make faulty. Thin, crunchy bones and a lightly salted exterior pair phenomenally with freshly grated daikon, a drizzle of acidity, and savoury dose of umami. The eraser-sized block of salmon was modest in size but phenomenal in flavour; flaky, buttery flesh and crinkle skin made for excellent textural contrast.

​The AAA Steak and Mushroom Salad, despite assuming second position on the menu, arrived fourth. Generous in its inclusion of mixed greens and aromatic in its thorough dispersion of fried garlic and seared medium-rare slices, the salad was enjoyed as is for its fresh qualities. Delivered alongside the salad had been a square container filled with a sticky substance of sorts. It wasn't until the question was posed that clarification was provided: it was the dressing (on the side).

​The Otoro Aburi Tartar Bowl had triumphed over the Lobster Uni Cream Udon at the time of order placement. Equally sophisticated-sounding per their caption, we decided against the uni in consideration of satiation levels.
Once again making an appearance was the restaurant's round wooden serving container. This time, it was accompanied by a single serving of miso soup, soy sauce, and puny mount of wasabi.

​​​Two styles of Otoro were presented atop seasoned short-grain rice. The Otoro Tataki, gently torched to reveal a glossy surface, was structured at its edges and resisted disintegration. Minced Otoro was darker in hue, a warm amber that differentiated itself from the cool fuschia of maguro. Thoughtfully positioned along the circumference were ingredients of complementary colours: green and orange tobiko, beige arare (rice cracker bits) and takuan (yellow pickled daikon), shredded nori, and a jiggly poached egg that would submerge the bowl's contents in a shimmering, golden lagoon.

​By the time the Otoro Aburi Sushi platter made its way over, our stomachs were nearing capacity. The four-piece spread glimmered with natural grease - an innate fattiness that had surfaced as a result of searing. I successfully wielded and ingested one piece of the barely compacted nigiri before admitting defeat.

Dessert would assume a Green Tea Cheesecake, brûléed to finish and served with fresh fruit, freshly whipped cream, and a vibrant sprig of mint. The 1.5-inch wedge was dense and not particularly cheesy. There was greater gratification in devouring the softened berries between dainty forkfuls of barely stabilized cream.

Washrooms were situated between the stairwell and kitchen preparation area, adopting a dim ambiance with wooden accents.