July 2013
When you eat out as often as I do, it’s a rare experience to stumble across a great restaurant, and rarer still to encounter food that’s so true to the spirit of its creation that it just rocks your world. Kame (literally meaning turtle, and the nickname of proprietor/chef Mizukami Masahiro) Sushi is just one of these treasures. Tucked away in the burgeoning colony of Japanese and Korean restaurants that is Desa Sri Hartamas, Kame is Tokyo-sized tiny, and the already cosy interior is unapologetically dominated by a massive sushi counter and a smattering of miniscule private rooms. At this little restaurant, which also happens to be the hangout of choice of chain-smoking single male Japanese punters, it’s omakase that rules.
Forget your bog standard sushi, sashimi, tempura and teppanyaki. Here, chef Kame, erstwhile of Rakuzen, serves what he likes, when he likes, with the freshest seasonal (that’s seasonal in Japan, mind) produce taking precedence on the degustation menu. Meaning ‘I’ll leave it to you’, omakase is perfect for chefs because it gives them carte blanche to let their creative juices flow. For diners, if executed with flair and alacrity – as is propitiously the case at Kame – it’s veritably gastronomic paradise.
Because seafood is imported twice weekly on Tuesdays and Fridays, the sashimi is irreproachably fresh, and whether it’s the sea urchin roe, firefly squid, prawns, abalone or tuna maguro you’re savouring, the freshness and quality are unmistakeable. That’s not to say however that sashimi is the only strength of the Kame team. Whether it’s a simple amuse bouche of homemade tofu with just a vestige of salt and pepper as foil, or grilled fish – here served perfectly crispy and expertly cooked – or even simmered aubergine, the commonality of all the food at Kame is a shared set of ideals. There is nothing superfluous or excessive about the flavours, textures or presentation; the justrightness of it all is, well, just right.
Bookings are absolutely essential, especially if you’re not flying solo. Which brings me to the only gripe I can muster about Kame: It’s ironic that in a place where the food takes such priority, cigarette smoking is allowed to so blithely ruin the enjoyment of said gastronomic delicacies. It says volumes then that, considering my extreme loathing for cigarettes and even more obsessive hatred for smoking at mealtimes, I would nonetheless jump at the next opportunity to go back to Kame. Fay Khoo