You can’t marry someone you just met. You can’t go to Shikibu with someone you just met either. Consider yourself warned. Shikibu may be a sweet little hole in the wall, but believe me, as appealing as intimacy sounds, you don’t want to get to know someone in a restaurant that only seats six unless you’re prepared to have every second of silence amplified for your awkward squirming pleasure.
The good news is, there’s nothing like sushi to break the silence, or at least make silence socially acceptable while you chew. And this sushi comes with a rather lengthy, detailed list of instructions on how to spray your sushi with their handy soy sauce pumps so that you don’t destroy the wasabi by mixing the two. If you read this detailed list with your date, you can keep the awkward at bay while showing off your ability to read.
Complicated soy sauce aside, Shikibu’s sushi is about as simple and minimalist as it gets. No weird combinations, no monstrous rolls crammed full of fruit with five kinds of fish. But this sushi has nothing to hide behind, and every bite is a brilliant reminder of why we love all the simple kinds of sushi.
The Toro Maki is as it says. A roll of seaweed and rice, full of soft, fatty bites of belly. The fat is so rich it release a small flavor-blast with every chew.
The Fresh Scallop Roll is so slick it slides right down. The slightly grainy texture of the rice gives it a little traction and brings out the tiniest hint of brine.
The Caterpillar Roll is smooth, sweet, and standard; ripe avocado with a flaky, never-rubbery, fresh-cooked eel.
The basic rolls are amazing, but the Ultimate Tiger is a pretty epic mix. Salmon and avocado topped with melt-in-your-mouth pan-kissed salmon sounds so simple, but my reaction to eating it was not. Though it may have been uncomfortably excessive…
Despite being able to see every square inch of the restaurant no matter where you stand, Shikibu can still surprise me. They only use brown rice for the sushi, the texture of which I thought I despised. But Shikibu makes it cohesive and smooth without being mushy or hard, and it adds a savory-grain to amp up some of the more standard rolls.
I know I said not to come to Shikibu with someone you just met, but it’s a great idea to come if you’re lonely. Not only will you knock knees while trying to wiggle onto the narrowly high barstools while playing peekabo with the sushi chef behind the bar, you’ll be privy to any and every intimate detail of all the conversation around you. You won’t know anyone at the beginning of your meal, but you’ll feel like you know them by the end.
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