I have never liked sushi. It’s not that I hate it, but I haven’t actually go to great lengths to appreciate it. Fancy sushi restaurants cost a bomb, and affordable places serve sushi that warrants little merit. Cold, over-sized rice balls ruins the tastiest fish, while tasty fish don’t come by cheap.

On my fifth trip to Japan, I thought I should try some serious sushi. Everybody knows about Sushi Jiro, because it has three-michelin stars, because Jiro Dreams of Sushi, and because President Obama dined there. Unfortunately, I’m just a poor nobody who can’t speak Japanese, and so I had to opt for a more casual, but still serious, affair. A brief search on the Internet led me to Sushi Iwa.

Sushi Iwa is a small restaurant located in Ginza. It isn’t far from Tsukiji market where over 300 sushi restaurants around the area get their fresh produce from. With only six seats, every customer gets the chef’s undivided care and attention. There were two chefs on the counter, and Chef Tsunoda prepared our meal for lunch. I didn’t ask, but Chef Tsunoda seemed to have taken over as head chef/owner, whereas the blog posts, which I referred to, named him as the sous-chef. Such are petty matters… besides, it made an impressionable sushi experience.

For this virgin venture, my Dad and I chose the 13-piece set lunch, over the 10-piece set and the dinner omakase. There was tai, saba, karei, akami–zuke, toro, bonito, ika, hotate, some crab, anago, and I can’t name the rest. I can’t remember the exact order either, which is important in a sushi meal. The chef pressed the rice à la minute, taking care of the temperature of both the rice and the fish, and asked us if the amount of wasabi was alright. Everything was fresh and the natural flavors of the sea shone through. It is difficult to name any favorite, because I never had better of each kind. The saba, the toro, the bonito, the ika… the hotate, the anago… breathe, restraint, breathe… you get the point.

What makes sushi serious anyway? Fresh seafood, restrained use of rice, or serving them at the right temperatures and in the right order? As a novice in all things, I can’t give an informed answer. What I know to be true, is that food becomes serious when chefs are committed to their business. The respect for ingredients, the dedication towards technique, the drive for precision… these may all sound frivolous to the common populace, but in the pursuit for better food, if the men and women in white jackets and tall hats do not uphold these ideals, who would?

From the sushi to the hospitality, Chef Tsunoda’s belief in his craft is noticeable in his actions. What I could admire more is his humility, which I think all chefs, or in fact everyone, should have. At the end of the meal, we chatted for a while, about sushi, pastry, and the weather. He walked us out, and stood outside the place to see us off. I walked away that summer afternoon, knowing that I would be back some day for a great meal, which is so much more than good food alone.