To Cagen, and Toshio Tomita
My Japanese teacher tells me that most Japanese people in New York are baffled by the omakase experience at Cagen, a small sushi hideaway in the east village. It is not because of the perfectly warmed and vinegard rice, nor the shining and delicious slabs of fish that are gently draped on top. No, it is because Toshio Tomita—the chef himself—is tall.
I know it seems strange that a person’s height may be so imposing that it hinders the overall experience of a meal. But my sensei has a point: when I look back on my other omakase experiences—Hatsuhana, Ushiwakamaru, and Kosaka—all these chefs are clean shaven, politely silent, and no more than 5 ½ feet tall. As the vessel for the awaiting fish begins to form, that pillow of rice is gently pressed into shape by the chef’s long, gentle fingers. It is like an intimate moment between parent and child; under the counter’s spotlight, the chef pulls his small bundle close to his chest, his hands so near his face it appears as if he is whispering incantations of deliciousness and delicacy before sending a perfect piece of nigiri to your plate.
Chef Yoshihiko Kousaka at work, Kosaka.
Photo from restaurant’s Instagram
It therefore must be quite surprising to meet your chef at Cagen: a six-foot-tall, gruff and tough Toshio Tomita. He greets you silently, a quick bow of the head and nothing more. You are seated in his section of the counter and watch him work. You notice his hands: wider, shorter fingers, and calloused palms. On his face there is a mask of solemnity, his mouth surrounded by a scruff beard. On his feet are neither clogs nor crocs but a pair of starkly white Adidas sneakers. His pants are covered in kittens engaged in humorous, human activities like cooking and badminton. Tomita is a sensory assault of mystery: sure, he is tall, serious, and frankly intimidating, but how can a guy wearing cat pants and fresh sneakers really strike this much fear in the hearts of sushi-lovers? I give Tomita the benefit of the doubt, and it pays off.
His sushi is unlike any that I’ve experienced in New York. The ingredients are simple, the rice is perfect, and the fish is sublime. Behind Tomita’s harsh exterior is a man who loves his craft as it is expressed through effortless creativity and masterful technicality. This produces Edomae-sushi you’ve never tasted before. The firefly squid plated on an undulating slab of iron appears nearly lifelike, as if it could swim away forever before you enjoy its sweet and slightly firm flesh. The Hokkaido uni sits on a small sheet of nori, and that single bite is not only unctuous and creamy, but also wonderfully crunchy and salty.
Toshio Tomita is a six-foot-tall, gruff, large, silent, and calloused-handed sushi master. But just ask him where he buys his pants, and he’ll look up at you to reveal a mischievous smile: “A fashionista never reveals their secrets,” he says. Appearances can be deceiving.
