Sushi to meet the swelling demand
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The popularity of sushi is exploding. And with that surge in interest, so is its availability. But when every grocery store and deli offers California rolls and even curls of fish on vinegared rice, will we be able to recognize the good stuff, the skillfully made, the wonderfully fresh?
Ma Soba, which opened on the busy side of Beacon Hill last summer, is an Asian hybrid of sorts. Owned by a Chinese family from Canada, this sleek restaurant serves traditional Chinese dishes such as General Gao's chicken, Thai dishes like green curry and noodles, and soups from Malaysia and Vietnam.
But the beauty of the place is in its sushi. Under the guidance of sushi chef Cary (Tortoro) Wong, the sushi bar hums with activity as plate after plate sails out to waiting customers. Although there are fanciful treats such as spider maki accompanied by fried softshell crab with avocado and flying fish roe, the choicest pieces are the simplest.
Ma Soba is a great spot to hone one's ability to judge sashimi, the most unadorned form of the Japanese art, since it consists of just raw fish cut to please the palate.
Tortoro's sashimi gleams, the fish so skillfully cut, so plump and fresh that a slice of toro (tuna belly) seems to literally melt on the tongue.
Mackerel, which has to be exceedingly fresh not to be too strong and oily, is a revelation, just a clean taste of the sea. Even sea urchin (uni) proves delightfully tender, something I usually find too chewy. Instead of rubber bands, I think of that wash of surf over the edge of rocks along the sea.
Yellowtail and bass, laid over vinegared rice, have a firm texture and a pleasingly mild taste. More elaborate maki is just as appealing. Spicy tuna twisted into a tight shape and wrapped in rice holds its pungent sauce inside, exploding on contact with the tongue. Pickled radish in a circlet of vinegared rice is a tiny, sharp taste-cleanser.
Along with the vivid flavors of the fish, one can enjoy a surprising range of wines, unusual in an Asian restaurant. A Sancerre from the Loire Valley or a Pinot Gris from Alsace blends into a sushi evening especially well.
However, the rest of Ma Soba's menu is less consistent and overall less appealing than the sushi. The style of the restaurant, clean lines with light-colored woods, comfortable seating, and white tablecloths also belies any preconceived notion of ethnic dining. And the cuisine is that strain of elaborately presented "gourmet" Chinese dining popularized here in the '70s by Sally Ling and others.
For example, orange beef comes in a basket formed of edible rice paper. It's described as sauteed with fresh orange peels, and there is a definite citrus flavor. The beef itself is fine, with the chilies in the mixture adding a bit of spiciness, but the orange leaves a lingering and slightly bitter aftertaste; that makes sense when I look at the menu again and realize Grand Marnier liqueur was added to the orange sauce.
Hunan dumplings, an appetizer, swim in a peanut sauce that is too thick and too sweet; what's more the dumplings are so limp and soggy that they fall apart when the chopsticks hit them.
The best dishes combine presentation with straightforward flavors.
Stir-fried vegetables arrive in a braided basket made of deep-fried taro, quite intriguing looking with its fine lattice-work. Snow peas, carrots, broccoli, slice of lotus root, and other vegetables are crisp and flavorful with only a mild film of sauce.
Salmon seasoned with lemongrass and pan-seared cubes of soybean make up another dish with simple and clean tastes.
However, the mash of sweet potatoes on the side seems out-of-place. General Gao's chicken, deeply fried and very crunchy, is not for the calorie-phobic but nevertheless is good.
When the kitchen ventures into other cuisines, the results are mixed. Lemon chicken katsu is mild, rather like a handsome version of chicken fingers but with a very light coating of breadcrumbs and no taste of frying. Thai green curry, a dish brimming with big, plump tiger shrimp, has a gummy film on top one evening as though the dish waited in the kitchen a long while.
A Vietnamese pho, or seafood soup with cilantro and rice vermicelli, contains the correct ingredients and is very pretty to look at. But the broth is disappointingly bland, without the fragrant boost a pho should give the diner.
Oiliness is another problem. Char kway teow, a Malaysian noodle dish with bits of roast pork and fat shrimp, holds promise, its tastes almost bold enough and the noodles cooked soft but not too limp. But it's difficult to eat too much of it without oil coating one's tongue. That's nothing, though, compared to a sauteed dish of lamb with kaffir lime leaves. I can taste only the oil, something strong like peanut oil, obliterating any of the meaty flavor of lamb. After a few bites, I stop, and when I glance at a nearby table, realize another diner has done the same. Too bad.
The desserts are also elaborately decorated. Green tea and red bean ice cream comes in a wobbly tower, the balls of ice cream positioned precariously between layers of fried wontons shaped into circles. A large shallow dish of coconut creme caramel is decorated with a curl of phyllo dough shaped into a thin cookie. However, even a custard fanatic companion finds the texture of the creme caramel odd and its flavor thin.
A lemony citrus tart in a crust of phyllo dough is the nicest, with its accent of black pepper in a thin creme anglaise.
The management staff at Ma Soba is unfailingly gracious, and the feeling of the place serene. The wait staff sometimes seems to keep up with this and at other times drifts off. Our waiter one evening seemed miffed when I told him we'd need a few more minutes to decide and had to be waved down 20 minutes later for an order.
Getting the check at the end was a similar exercise in patience and pointed stares on our part. But other visits went smoothly.
Ma Soba's draws are its great sushi, lovely room, and complementary wine list. I'll gladly overlook the oily lamb for those virtues.
