What most people know about Japanese food they could cram into a chopstick case, which isn't to say it's their fault. For a cuisine so rooted in tradition, restaurants that claim to serve it have strayed pretty far from the source material. Blame the ubiquitous strip-mall sushi joint — those nearly identical eateries slinging low-grade tuna by the caseload and farm-raised salmon the color of bad wallpaper. Or better yet, blame the California roll. If there's a more appropriate summation of a cuisine stripped of its value than a rice-smothered tube of imitation crab meat made from pulverized, colored fish paste, then I'd hate to hear it.
It's unfortunate, because authentic Japanese food has so much to offer. The Japanese know perhaps better than anyone the value of simplicity. Their chefs have long been adept at honoring ingredients; they can hone the natural flavors in a piece of fish the way someone might train a bonsai to grow. And with that kind of craftsmanship comes a certain level of mystique. In Japan, chefs are revered in a way ours can only hope to be (for proof, just watch an episode of the original Iron Chef). When someone has spent the better part of 50 years doing nothing but slicing fish in some under-street sushi bar, scrutinizing every fiber of every cut, it makes you wonder how the guy making your "Sexy Lady in a Short Skirt" roll can even hope to be placed in the same category.
Despite dozens of sushi joints making such oddly named rolls across South Florida, you could count on one hand the few that are doing anything remotely different. Those places — Marumi Sushi in Sunrise, Sushi Bon in Lantana, and Hiro's Yakko San in Miami Gardens — each attract in-the-know eaters with their fresh local fish and out-of-the-bento-box dishes. Call them the Holy Trinity of South Florida Japanese restaurants; these places are my go-to joints for authentic Japanese fare.
I've been searching for restaurants to add to that triumvirate for a while, and I have found a couple of candidates in two strip-mall eateries, Nu-Sushi and Sushi Simon. The first, Nu-Sushi in Coral Springs, is actually very unnew; it's been operating in the same dim spot on University Drive for going on 20 years now. In a tiny space that seats about 30, chef-owner Yuji Azuma turns out fresh sushi culled from local and international waters, as well as an extensive array of authentic Japanese dishes that you won't find in many other restaurants.
Of course, saying Nu-Sushi's menu is extensive is sort of like saying Tolstoy was a bit long-winded. A good four dozen items make up Azuma's appetizer section alone — dishes such as thin-sliced octopus salad, deep-fried pork skewers with caramelized onion, and yamakake, tuna sashimi served with slivers of raw potato. Add to that a long list of bento boxes, donburi rice bowls, soba and udon soups, tempura, and katsu (Japan's answer to KFC), plus a whole other mini-menu of about, oh, 40 authentic Japanese small plates and you start to get a glimpse of just how varied a meal there can be.
Some friends and I ordered liberally across the menu during a couple of visits to Nu-Sushi, and nearly everything we tried was tasty or at least interesting. The space is little more than a narrow hallway lined with dark wood paneling. At its far end is a granite-topped sushi bar where Azuma displays his craft for a loyal group of regular customers that almost always packs the four or five seats available. The rest of the dozen or so tables fill up with a mix of Asian and Western clientele, and what they order spans varying levels of adventurousness.
Although authentic textures and flavors abound, even my most sushiphobic buddies found something to like at Nu. There's not a soul alive who wouldn't enjoy a homey dish like pork and vegetable gyoza ($4.25), six taut purses of meat, fried crisp on one edge and served with tart dumpling sauce. Another very simple plate of yakimatsu ($4.25), a sauté of mushrooms and onions in citrusy ponzu sauce, was also a big favorite — we ended up having a chopstick battle over the last few bites, which is a grave sin somewhere, I'm sure.
Meanwhile, the restaurant's two whiteboards posted near the door are filled with daily specials that would charm even the most jaded sushi eater. Azuma sources fresh-caught wahoo, firm and sweet, before slicing it expertly and setting it atop warm, sticky-sweet sushi rice (the only way it should be) at $4 a pair. He balances a bowl of creamy, meltingly rich monk fish liver ($10.95) with a pool of ponzu, though some of the steamed rounds of liver were broken apart into small, hard-to-handle pieces. And if anyone is still not on board with the whole raw fish thing, all it would take is a plate of Nu-Sushi's fabulous fluke usuzukuri ($10.95) and they'd be instant converts. The flounder is sliced as sheer as a piece of silk and arranged on the plate like a blooming flower, its petals glimmering with a pink sheen.