Sato is in fine form, keeping up with all the orders, keeping up the conversation, trying out garbled English on me to everyone's amusement. He's a one-man show, and in such a tiny shop, he's always on stage. He looks truly happy right now, and I recall something he once said to me about wanting to create not so much a restaurant as a place where friends could gather and enjoy themselves. With all his complaints about work, it's clear that he's found his raison d'être.
Sato serves everyone soup in giant lacquered bowls, only half full—a wonderful idea, eliminating the danger of sloshing and spilling. His soups, which he makes with koji (fermented rice) miso, have always been sublime. At lunch, he might add amaebi heads; at dinner (when the customers are paying more), hirame bones and clams, which infuse the broth with the heady fragrance of the sea. Tonight's soup is a delightful mix of asari clams still in their shells, dark undulations of aonori, and bright specks of negi. It's almost ten, closing time. One by one, the customers pay up (there is no menu or price list; Sato simply tells them what they owe). As the door slides closed behind the last customer, Sato sighs loudly, and pours himself a whiskey over ice. "Taihen da ne"—"This work is exhausting," he says, mostly to himself.
He rummages in the refrigerator and pulls out a Tupperware bento box, a lunch that his wife packed for him that morning but that he'd not had time to eat. Rice topped with a single breaded fried shrimp, some scraps of meat, and pickles. He smiles at me. "You still think my life looks like fun?" he asks, picking at the cold food, too exhausted to eat now. He still has an hour or more of cleaning up, then the drive home, then, while his wife and small daughter sleep, the day's accounting to do for both shops. Then, at dawn, up again and to the market.
"You know, I shouldn't have opened this new place," he says. "Really, I might be dead the next time you visit." He lights another cigarette. This time, I keep my disapproval to myself.
Sukeroku (old)
Ginza 3-13-4
Chuo-ku, Tokyo
3-3546-1869
Sukeroku (new)
Ginza 7-9-10
Chuo-ku, Tokyo
3-3573-7787
Chef's Secret
From Fumio Sato: To test the worth of a sushi chef, taste his tamago (omelet). If it's not good, leave.
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