There is too much darkness in the world these days. A deep sadness prevails and a frantic claustrophobia permeates in the midst of a pandemic we cannot control.
Our daily delights are dampened, our hobbies put on hold, our passions set aside as the world has closed its doors.
Few feel the effects as profoundly as the food industry as restaurants stay shuttered, their once-vibrant dining rooms dark. Even the permission to reopen doesn’t make it so.
The more resourceful resort to takeout, but few are able to soldier on like Culver City powerhouse N/naka. While most have to compromise on quality and/or availability, Niki Nakayama’s legacy lives on, in bento boxes as beautiful as they are scarce, bringing Michelin-quality food home for a fraction of the price.
Gone are the Sunday morning scrambles for a table; they’ve been replaced by a Saturday morning struggle for a Jubako or a Bento.
I refreshed my way to the former after days of trying, and it was worth every minute. Even the packaging itself is a work of art.
We start with a still-warm Shiitake Mushroom Owan Soup before we break the seal on a box. The broth is clear, the dashi is light, and an infusion of mushroom tiptoes across the tongue.
I can feel my palate opening with every sip of the soup as I break the seal on my first Jubako box. There’s an American Wagyu Tataki Salad with supple slices of the beefiest of the beef. Ponzu Oroshi adds a dash of citrus to brighten the hard-hitting savory notes.
A selection of Sushi and Sashimi showcases lighter white slices to lead up to a meatier tuna and sweet and gooey shrimp. Sushi rice highlights, and that middle piece of toro clings and lingers.
On to the cooked stuff, still steaming in the box. A beautiful Braised Abalone is incredibly delicate and supple, and even the usually unpleasant sea-stink liver has a fragile grain and barely-there bile. The truffle sauce disperses an earthy fragrance.
Japanese Roasted Duck is so tender it could melt in the mouth, flavors delicate and smooth. A hit of spicy yellow mustard adds a pop.
Lobster Uni Nikogori is all the sweetness of uni swimming in a succulent lobster gel. (Mine fell off in transit but it tasted just as good).
The bottom box is next, a menagerie of warmth. A Vegetable Takiawase is such sweet-of-the-earth, all of it perfectly cooked. A soft slice of eggplant, a crisp pod of snap pea, a tender mushroom bouquet. A dip in the smoky eggplant sesame sauce adds several layers of depth.
The Grilled Fish is as soft and as buttery as a slice of foie, sweetened by a bed of sunchoke purée. Ikura evokes a slick, shining sea, and a slice of Tamago is a triangle of eggy fluff.
There is a square of California and Japanese Rice to accompany the salt, and a proud Pickled Ume packs enough punch to pickle the bowl.
The Crispy Lobster Nanbanzuke is the one I save for last. A beautiful tail, succulent in a light fry, brightened by a bit of pepper.
I never want the meal to end but a trio of Desserts is all that’s left. A Matcha White Chocolate Cake is as dense as a flourless, as matcha stands its richness on top of the sugar and cream.
Strawberry Daifuku is a smooth bean paste inside a chewy mochi skin. A whole summer strawberry surprises, a buried treasure of delight.
Passion Fruit Chocolate is creamy, bitter notes of cocoa with an accent of the tropics, a bold bite of chocolate, both bitter and tart.
The meal ends but the after glow lingers. It’s a small brightness, a glimmer of hope in the viral dark.
Like N/naka and much of fine dining, we bend to the lockdown but we will not break. We simply choose to take a knee for the sale and safety of those we love until we can rise again. Our world will not look the same when we reenter but our eyes will adjust to the newer light. I’ll be waiting for my chance to sit at a new chef’s table when all this is over, but until then Chef’s Table will have to do, even if it’s just on Netflix.
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