Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Wasabi

Comment
on this story

Wasabi
118 Major Reynolds Place
584-4898

by Connie Seuer

Wasabi, Bearden's newest kid on the hill, is a Japanese steakhouse complete with a full sushi bar. I was curious to see how Wasabi would blend the two different environs of sushi bar and steakhouse hibachi, as well as what new starring roles wasabi, the condiment, would play in our dinner. And making things even more interesting, this would be Heinrich's first experience with the food flipping, fire throwing festivities of a Japanese steakhouse.

Architects and interior designers deftly accomplished a cool, austere atmosphere for the restaurant. Minimalist and cobalt-lit, the foyer and hostess stand make for a dramatic entrance, and the sushi bar, stashed to the left, upholds this milieu. But Heinrich and I never got to try out the sushi, as we were immediately escorted to the back of the building where the hibachi tables reside. And here was the first surprise to old Heinrich—hibachi seating is family style. At one end of our table sat a portly couple bookending their young tot with ample girth. A woman in her mid-30s, bordering on gaunt with an angular jaw, sat at the opposite end, escorted by a Woody-Allen-ish gentleman much her senior. The latter were dressed casually and gabbed endlessly about Reiki massage and her boyfriend's car. Beside us sat a very tan, very loud, engaged couple working down their second bottle of Pinot Grigio.

The hibachi menu, straightforward and predictable, offers several different combinations of meat and seafood (from chicken, $12.50, to filet mignon, $16.95, to red snapper, $13.75), one vegetarian dish ($9.50), and a Wasabi dinner that pulls out all the stops (filet, lobster, shrimp all in one, $29.95). As every entrée comes with flaming shrimp appetizers, wasabi dressed salad, "Japanese soup," and Japanese fried vegetable rice, there's really no need for other categories on the menu.

The "Japanese soup" arrived first. If any soup is Japanese, it would be miso soup, and that's what we expected. What arrived was equally warming and delicious, but quite different. Rather than a miso base, this soup tasted to be chicken broth flecked with delicate green onions, mushroom slivers, and a yet-to-be-defined gossamer pasta or egg. Our chef, Pierre (yes, it's French, and no, he wasn't), was loathe to reveal any secrets of the Wasabi table. Left to our own devices, I can only claim that the soup was a true delight, whatever it was.

But where's the wasabi? I wondered. Its first, and only appearance came in the form of "secret wasabi dressing" drenching the small salad of shredded lettuce, carrots, and red cabbage. We'd been hoping this crisp little salad would showcase a punchy, light vinaigrette of soy, ginger, wasabi, and perhaps a little sesame oil. But the secret of the dressing seems to be mayonnaise, overwhelming a faint trace of wasabi. Try it on the side for a more amicable balance between dressing and salad greens.

Pierre doled out three sauces intended for dipping and blending with his hibachi creations. First, a ginger-brown sauce for chicken and steak (tangy with ginger and garlic, but heavy). Next, a coral-hued shrimp sauce that looked a lot like the wasabi dressing. Last came the flame-red hot sauce (tomato-y, sweet, and medium hot). These sauces didn't get a lot of action from our chopsticks—mainly because the food was already so flavorful, why cover up a good thing?

Heinrich ordered ribeye & scallop ($17.50) and I tried out the red snapper ($13.75). But hibachi service is much like a good story, or good sex, building slowly with enticements along the way, until an utter climax is reached. Prior to our carnivorous pleasures, Pierre chopped, flipped, swirled, butterflied, and fired peppery shrimp for the entire table. These were enjoyable, as much for their taste as the thrill of watching the kid at the end of the table marvel at Pierre's preparing them. Each plate received generous servings of hibachi vegetables—white onions, zucchini, and carrots sautéed with plentiful drops of soy sauce, tamari, oil, salt, and pepper. And this serving was quickly followed by a bounty of freshly fried rice.

Watching the red snapper preparation was the least interesting of all, as it was a complete filet that cooked calmly on the hibachi, requiring little intervention from Pierre. The steak and scallops were more engaging, sliced and flipped as part of a carefully timed performance. But how did they eat? Very well: richly buttered red snapper dense with flavor and offering a crisped exterior, medium rare ribeye holding its juicy, meat flavor while sporting a flare of soy and tamari; bite-size scallops full of grilled goodness and soaked in butter, pepper, salt, and soy.

Keeping pace was difficult, and ultimately, we were each defeated by the amount of food on our plates. Sweetened carrots capped as a dessert bonus but we were too full to seriously consider them.

If you're feeling social, ready to gab it up and be entertained, hibachi culture is as good as a bar with better eats. Plus, it's good to remember how much fun you can have with big knives, hot oil, and a toque. Next visit to Wasabi, we'll be checking out the sushi bar—a little more intimate, a little more low key, and (just a guess here) a lot more wasabi.