N/naka UPDATE - Los Angeles

 

It's the 10th anniversary of LA's most mesmerizing restaurant, commemorated by a Kaiseki Jubako most enchanting.

A bed of rice cradles a cache of jewels: ruby swirls of tuna, shiny slicks of salmon, pearly scallops in shimmering white. A buttery toro and what I believe is amberjack peek behind a leaflet of wasabi.

There's genuine gasp of delight as the second box is unveiled. Bright little bits dance around an eyeful of uni. A spiked fortress cradles a delicate roe shielded by a snow crab sclera. To the left, a Chawanmushi brims with ikura brine, a fishy flavor most surprising. A liver full of fat succumbs to a scarlet strawberry further south.

To the right is a variety of vegetables, served in simplicity to maximize their majesty. A simple spear of broccoli or a cut carrot flower may sit in modest obscurity, but its flavor is coaxed out in a way that the vegetable bares its soul. Go lower to get higher with the buttery bliss of branzino.

Take a breath between your bites of branzino before moving up to the softly seared wagyu that spreads across a soy-butter rice. Savor a simple shrimp, a most succulent surf to the turf, and let the stewed abalone leave you seduced and stunned.

Even the Lobster Miso Soup is a memory in the making, rich and almost creamy with soft grits of miso and broth of sweet lobster. 

Spring for the sake if you so choose, a single tasting can be split to share. The Manzairoku is crisp and clear, a waterfall sipped with sushi. The Chogetsu lasts a little longer, more acid to amplify your heavier morsels and meats. 

Dessert is not an afterthought - the Sakura Panna Cotta has florals that sweep you away. 

Matcha Cake costs extra, a powdery mix of bittersweet. An acquired taste, easy to acquire. 

Opinions may differ, taste buds may diverge, and critics will split hairs, but not a single person will decry N/naka. Its story is seducing, its menu is captivating, its cuisine is a revolution. 

N/naka UPDATE - Culver City

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.

N/naka - Los Angeles

My experience at N/naka started on Chef's Table, a Netflix highlight of the journeys taken by today's most recognized chefs. It unmasks the face behind the food, making even the most formidable seem understandable and sometimes almost accessible. I watched Niki Nakayama struggle as a "female chef"  with rapt fury, as stuffy old men called her creations "cute," labeling it "how a woman cooks." 

Female or otherwise, Niki Nakayama is brilliant, and her work speaks for itself if you listen. The theme at N/naka is silent subtlety, no statement too strong; every dish is in the details. It's whispered elegance, more hints and suggestions than definitive commands.

You listen at N/naka and they listen too. Their schtick is to never serve you the same dish twice, and they plan your future based on what they see you enjoy. You determine your future experiences, and your autonomy starts immediately when you select your own cup for the welcome drink. The tray is full of colors, hues of light and dark. No two cups are alike but we all sip the same Umeshu, a light plum wine that tastes tart like tears. 

The light sour of the plum wine segues into a fire-kissed Hama Hama Oyster. Sink into the tender belly - the roasting turns the mucus into something more supple. It sleeps in breaths of smoke and steeps in a juicy risotto from the sea.

Threads of hairy crab center a palate-opening plate. It's adorned with a fan of tempura enoki, flanked by the murky depths of a viscous seaweed and mountain yam. There's also a soft-boiled squid in a tiny bowl and a boldly crispy cannoli shell crammed with creamy chips of wagyu beef. Save the summer strawberry for last.  

Sweet acid is a foil to the ribbons of celtuce that crunch bright and earthy. They swirl around a raw Red Snapper like a protective shroud, embellished by petals of flowers that flirt.

A clear Soup is a warm reset after so many things cold and raw. A delicate broth draws out the butter in a brick of black cod.

A playful Sashimi Plate shines with a milder striped jack against the glow of a meatier mackerel. An pliant snapper slides down fatty and slick, and a scallop yields to a small drop of citrus.

A slice of King Mackerel shifts from crispy skin to silvery slivers stuck to flaking seaweed. An avocado purée adds acid and an anchoring touch.

Lobster in lobster, a shellfish in its own dashi broth. The uni and egg over potato purée are an interesting twist, but it's the tomato I find surprising. You still get the sea-sweet flavors, but the tomato and egg remind me of China's peasant-dish stir-fry, an unexpected memory of home.

The pasta sits confident, comfortable with N/naka's defiance of kaiseki tradition, a rebel Spaghettini in hard mentaiko cream. Slices of elastic abalone and aromatic truffle complete this radical revolution.  "It's just not done!" the critics cried. You do you, Niki Nakayama. And don't ever stop doing this. 

A leap back to tradition - there are few things more time-honored than a salted slice of A5 Wagyu. There are gentle notes of preserved lemon and greenery to balance the fat, but the flavor will linger forever if you let it. 

Take a breath, a reset with this Palate Cleanser of all colors. A vibrant blood orange citrus is refreshing, and slick squares of seaweed and shot of Yuzu Sake help the palate recalibrate.

This is the segway into what feels like an impromptu omakase, not quite a new journey but a delightful little side-trip. It starts serene with isaki then a more audacious big eye tuna.

There's Miso Soup to sip between the sushi bites. 

Have a soft Ahi and save the show-stealing Sea Perch for last. It's smoky and meaty and fantastically sweet and fresh. 

A scored slice of sturdy Beef contrasts a fragile half n' half of Uni and Ikura.

The sweetest Blue Crab spills from a hand roll.

Desserts are next, starting with a Jasmine cocktail. The dish is a cold and creamy orange sorbet that drops hints of passion fruit.

We finish with Sakura cream and ice cream, flowers against a green matcha spongecake. 

They give you a foam-whisk Matcha to finish. 

The final Truffles are a heavy hit of hazelnut. 

I'm spooning my last bits of ice cream when she sneaks up behind me - I'm shocked speechless by her stealth. She bows and bows and thanks us for our presence, as if we did her a favor. Her graciousness is genuine, and her humility is not an act. You'd never guess you were speaking to the owner of the most coveted table in Los Angeles.

What is there to say? I'm at a loss for words and I lost them long before I sat down. The dishes defy explanation; there is no description to capture the fullness of the flavors and the completeness of the experience. I said it once and I'll say it again. N/naka speaks for itself. Just don't forget to listen.