Sushi for Breakfast.

Much against the lifelong advice of others (my mother and grandmother), I am one to skip breakfast. 

While I love to eat - and make a sport of seeking divine eats around the globe - rising before 5:00AM for breakfast is not my idea of a holiday worthy experience. Nor a workday one for that matter. I can barely fathom a cup of coffee at that hour, no less raw fish, which I otherwise love. But as ‘they say’, when in Rome… Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo is THE place to get the freshest fish in the world. After putting off the experience on previous visits to Japan (due to the aforementioned unappealing reasons), it was my time to experience a breakfast of sushi (to die for). If this makes your stomach flip flop like a fish out of water, wait until you see the photos.  

There are three reasons to visit the fish market: hope of catching the tuna auction, meandering the market (for photos!), and to enjoy the freshest sushi in the world. 

When I think of auctions, I envision a fast talking voice rattling off numbers faster than I can comprehend while bidders raise a hand to make themselves known. I was unable to secure a seat in the auction, though I did get a coveted spot near the door to one of the many auction rooms. As it swings to and fro, I bear witness to the events inside. It’s quiet, pensive. I can catch glimpses of buyers perusing giant frozen tuna shaped like torpedos (as I overhead another tourist describe them), it’s an apt description as they lie motionless and headless. The truest test, bidders pinch a taste here and there along the way. The atmosphere evokes photos from Life Magazine of some great disaster with bodies lined up row upon row. 

From here I wander through the market where there is plenty to see, much of which I cannot identify as I keep an eye on the trucks and forklifts, the drivers moved faster and were far more awake than I. Watching my toes, I am reminded that this is one of the busiest industrial wholesale markets in the world. It serves far beyond Japan, handling thousands of tons of seafood per day. Soon, I have meandered into the safety of the outer market which caters to the general public with small shops and restaurants lining the narrow lanes. Unplanned, this is exactly where I meant to find myself: it’s here my search for breakfast begins and I easily find Sushi Dai where the line is long, and I am told worth the wait. Once I am seated at the bar, the Chef says to me, “Omakase?”. I accept, though not sure what I am agreeing to. When the feast of freshness is presented to me, it turns out the Chef has selected the freshest choices of the day including fatty tuna, raw sweet shrimp, and an array of fish from the Pacific (I presume), that melt like chocolate on my tongue. This could become habit forming. 

I guess mother does know best.

11/2005