Hukuya

Location: 25 Railway Pde, Eastwood NSW 2122

Taste-type: Japanese

Price: Deluxe Sushi $30 (Regular Sushi $16), Chicken Kaarage $9

How to get there: Train or bus to Eastwood. Street parking is stingy until about 6pm when time-limits cease to apply.

The shabby walls of Hukuya carry none of the glamorous curves or sleek metallic lines of the city’s finer eating establishments. But this is not the city, and things are done differently here. Having frequented this sushi bar on many a quiet weekend, I can safely say that the building could easily withstand samurai, zombies, and most varieties of small-arms.

Sun daubs golden streaks across the scratchily-varnished tables within the restaurant and I slip into light meditation with eyes closed and katana levitating above the counter. Outside rage the battles of pushy Hong Kong grannies and testy Korean youths, but in here there is a humming quiet that soothes the senses. We order and wait for little over five minutes, for this is before peak-hour and the staff know our balaclavas well.

A Deluxe Sushi is enough for two (or three, if they lack appetites and manhood), and consists of a pirate ship laden with fresh-cut nigiri and ample servings of wasabi and ginger. The wasabi here is the real potent deal, unlike that of weaker-willed pretenders. Each piece of sushi is startlingly fresh and generous, with the salmon-belly (middle of top row) and kingfish being standouts. The salmon belly is a new addition to this platter, and has a thick luscious texture to it which slides lasciviously along the tongue like bandits along a spear-tip. All the pieces are nigiri except for the Tuna Tempura Rolls which are unique (in my knowledge) to Hukuya. These are pleasingly crisp and juicy, but have a tendency to be somewhat dried out by the frying.

A good piece of Chicken Kaarage is like a sumo wrestler: plump, tender, and bad for your health. Hukuya’s plate of chicken holds about 7 or 8 generous pieces, each deep-fried to golden-brown perfection. Each gallant morsel brims with salty-spicy flavour and has a succulent texture that, when combined with the sesame-mayonnaise mix on the side, sends both pleasure and calorie meters flying high into the sky. I am especially enamoured with the petite swirl of mayonnaise in the dish which reminds me of a meringue but does not taste the same. The salad on the side tastes like vegetables.

Having feasted on fishy flesh and the Japanese equivalent of chicken nuggets with dipping-sauce, I straighten upon my stool and break my meditation to let out a quiet belch of appreciation. However, the assistant chef at the bench takes offence and stops cutting the sushi with his oversized cleaver. His beady eyes flick left, then right, then settle on me with malicious intent. Outside, the birds cease to sing and grannies and youths alike go silent. I smile and, with the power of my mind, turn my floating katana so it points directly at his left eye socket. He blanches whiter than the rice he is moulding and begs my forgiveness. I magnanimously grant it to him in return for eternal obediance and extra tea.

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