by Anne Gabriel
“Hey, I’m celebrating a birthday at a teppanyaki place tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“You know where they cook Japanese food in front of you and throw knives around.”
“Oh, like Benihana!”
“YES! Only better.”
It’s become somewhat of a tradition for the people in my immediate circle to celebrate their birthdays with knife wielding, joke-telling teppanyki grill masters. Teppanyaki is a Japanese cooking style that developed after World War II, where dishes are prepared on an iron griddle and usually in front of a group of people. The name combines teppan (鉄板), meaning “metal plate,” and yaki (焼き), which translates to “grilled,” “broiled,” or “pan-fried” and has been known for exciting birthday dinners for as long as I can remember.
There is magic and a certain kind of anxiety-induced excitement that is derived from an oil-fueled inferno created inches away from your face which you can feel singeing your eyebrows while a jovial chef spins a knife and juggles a raw egg on-, and with-, a spatula. It is ridiculous and you half expect the chef to lose his grip and for the spinning knife to be hurled towards your jugular—but that’s also what makes it fun. Your food is grilled in front of your eyes with equal amounts of theatricality and humor while said chef tries to toss a shrimp chunk into your waiting mouth and you’re supposed to catch it with seal-like dexterity without choking. It’s weird and in the back of your mind you wonder just how long they’ve been practicing their tricks while the flames and spinning knives feel like they are getting closer and closer. It’s a spectacle and for a long time Benihana had a corner on it.
But recently, and when I say recently i mean for several recent years—Benihana switched the balance from clever cooking theater to straight packaged camp. Sure the chefs still cajole and create smoke spewing onion slice volcano towers—but the edibility factor just isn’t there—which is too bad. This often happens to good concepts as they get commercialized, standardized, and packaged for mass franchise and consumption. After a while, the idea becomes more important than making tasty food.
But—although the food is bland and the room and every tappan table is packaged with smiling middle-aged adults with children I can’t help but wonder if people realize there are better teppanyaki places than Benihana?
Sakura—located in the La Cañada outskirt of Los Angeles—is just one of many non-Benihana teppanyaki places that has taken the comedy / circus / Japanese-grilling experience concept and upped the taste game. In the case of Sakura, most of the tricks are the same—spinning knives, jokes, juggling and flames—and you still wonder (as one will with a hot-knife 3 inches from their face) how long the chef has been practicing. However, instead of white middle-aged folks with their families crowding tables and waiting in line, Sakura is full of predominantly Armenian middle-aged folks and their families, which—and as my Armenian friend assures me—means the food is better. Judging by my grilled calamari steak —savory, thick, and with the perfect level of char—it most definitely was.
Photo: swang168