Annie Harris discovers that making sushi doesn’t have to be scary, despite all those knives…
My introduction to sushi was as unique as the food itself. On a previous magazine, I had been asked to direct a photo shoot for a new up-and-coming sushi bar. To set the scene, I sourced some Japanese-style plates and accessories, ordered the fish, and arranged for the restaurant’s “sushi master” to attend. I had it all in hand – or so I thought.
The master was a small, immaculately-dressed man who on his arrival proceeded to instruct us all on his requirements – a place to change into his pristine starched uniform, tied with complex knots that looked like origami, and space for his impressive array of knives, chopping boards, wooden rice barrels and paddles. As for the fish I had ordered, he took one look, and emptied it all into the bin. After a quick phone call in rapid Japanese, a cool box arrived with the freshest, most gleaming examples of salmon, mackerel, squid and prawns I’d ever seen.
And then he began. We were all awestruck at this knife-wielding samurai-like chef, and somewhat scared of upsetting him again – those knives were very sharp. But it was mesmerising to watch, almost like witnessing a religious ritual. Everything had to be just so – each slice of fish cut with precision and artfully arranged – and the results were beautiful works of art, almost too good to eat.
Since that time, I have eaten sushi frequently in restaurants, and as a keen cook, have tried to make sushi myself. Sadly, it has been a disaster each time. So I decided I needed help.
That’s how I recently found myself in the suburbs of south-west London, at the door of Hashi cookery school. I was greeted by the owner, Reiko Hashimoto, and joined six other keen amateurs in her Anglo-Japanese kitchen for a day of traditional sushi making.
Reiko has been teaching everyone from raw beginners to Cordon Bleu chefs the joy of Japanese cooking for nearly 12 years, and has acted as a guest chef on TV programmes such as Good Food Live and The Great British Kitchen. Originally a flight attendant based in Hong Kong, travelling around the world with her airline broadened Reiko’s interest in food from all corners of the globe. She decided to make a career from cooking and teaching, moved to London and set up Hashi, which has been thriving ever since.
Over a refreshing cup of green tea, Reiko explained the backdrop to Japanese cooking and went through all of the essentials, explaining the less familiar ingredients and a little about Japanese food culture before demonstrating how to prepare each dish. It was now time for us all to have a go. Practising in front of a professional, you learn all the little things you miss from a book or video, which I think makes the difference between being able to make sushi that looks edible and failing miserably.
The focus is mostly on learning the various techniques, such as the different ways of rolling sushi and preparing Japanese omelette (tamago), and on demystifying the different types – I now know my uramaki from my maki and my oshi from nigiri.
The atmosphere was very relaxed – nothing was rushed, everyone was encouraged to have a go and it didn’t matter if everything didn’t quite go to plan; Reiko soon had your messy pile of rice revived and looking remarkably like sushi.
After a few hours we had made a sizable mountain of various types of sushi and sashimi, and there was nothing more to do other than sample our wares. Some chilled wine was poured and with chopsticks at the ready, we dined on the fruits of our labour. I had been a little worried I wouldn’t pull it off but, to my delight, not only did my maki rolls look pretty good but they didn’t taste too bad either.
I picked up lots of tips along the way and left with a full repertoire of dishes to replicate at home. Above all, I had been inspired to be more adventurous in the kitchen, with Japanese cooking a far less daunting prospect – a stark contrast from my previous knife-wielding samurai sushi chef experience. There’s nothing remotely scary here.
- Reiko’s Saturday classes run from 11am to 3pm and cost £125. She also runs an evening canapé class for £75, and four-class courses for different skill levels – from novice to master chef – for £260. Hashi, 60 Home Park Road, Wimbledon; tel +44 (0)20 8944 1918; hashicooking.co.uk
