Ichiriki / On an unglamorous stretch of Pi’ikoi street, the recently opened nabe restaurant Ichiriki bears an unlit exterior sign illuminated from below with industrial lights set up on the sidewalk that give the entrance the meticulously staged air of a film set. The interior, however, reveals calming rows of tables, with bamboo partitions and half curtains, some with sunken floor seating that shroud diners in intimacy.

From the appetizer list–which progresses from Japanese pickles ($2.95) to Stone Grilled Kobe steak ($24.95)–try the excellent surume, dried shreds of squid served with a swirl of shichimi-dusted mayo for dunking; it’s a refined version of snack bag shredded cuttlefish. There’s also ‘ahi poke and yamakake, cubed ‘ahi with grated yamaimo (mountain potato), mostly notable for its slimy texture rather than its taste (nonexistent).

The portable burners set on each tabletop soon come ablaze when the showcase nabe arrives in either single servings ($17.95-$19.95) in a metal pot, or in a serving for two in a washi paper-lined basket designed to absorb fat. The latter, Kami ‘Paper’ Nabe ($33.95-$41.95) is, as the menu says, a ‘must try.’ A range of broths is available in either preparation. Those who appreciate subtle flavors will like the Ichiriki and the miso chanko; those who prefer a stronger dose of flavor should order kim chee or Kei’s spicy pirikara (still classifiable as mild on a chili thermometer).

We chose the ingredients in the Ichiriki nabe to go with Kei’s spicy pirikara broth, a choice that two servers echoed as their favorite as a wistful token of Kei, the restaurant’s consultant chef from Japan. The staff encourages mixing and matching of broths and nabe sets. The Ichiriki nabe comes with uncooked bok choy, won bok, several kinds of mushrooms, leeks, chives, carrots, gobo, raw beef, shrimp, scallops, Japanese sausage, tofu and tsukune, ground chicken packed in a halved bamboo tube with a scraper used to portion the meat off into meatballs that taste like gingery potsticker filling. Let the broth heat to a boil before adding any ingredients, otherwise you’ll be at the table long enough to hear the restaurant’s song loop repeat. The highlight was the two scallops, served, as you rarely see in this country, with the crescent of rich coral roe still attached. All nabe is served with bowls of rice that fall in a nice medium between Japanese and local on the portion scale.

The menu also gives page space to sukiyaki and a range of shabu shabu, featuring beef, Berkshire pork and combinations, although beef lends itself better to broth cooking. In shabu shabu, the cooking water is flavored with only a sample-sized swatch of konbu, so the flavor must be added at each place setting with a dunk into two dipping sauces, a milky, nutty goma and ponzu, which you can spike with chili-laced grated daikon and green onions. Request the sauces no matter what you order, since none of the raw additives spend enough time in the broth to acquire its essential flavor.

In a brilliant nod to cumulative cooking and economy, when all the meats and vegetables have been eaten, diners choose fresh ramen (superior) or udon to cook in the broth that with each slurp washes in subtle waves over the sweet, salty and umami-attuned tastebuds. The chunks of garlic in the pirikara have mellowed so that they could be mistaken for pungent bits of fat.

Expectedly, the dessert list is fleeting. ‘The broth will be my dessert,’ someone at the table announced. But his spoon leaped up like a roused watchdog when the ujikintoki ($4.95) arrived. A mountain of finely shaved ice is soaked with bitter green tea, topped with azuki beans and a blanket of condensed milk, and dotted with mochi balls. A diner who lived in Japan declared it a close match to a dessert she enjoyed in Kyoto. The fresh fruit platter came on a plain of shaved ice: sliced strawberries drizzled with condensed milk, chunked pineapples and jaboticabas, grape-like tropical fruits whose inedible skins, when squeezed, had the palpable give of an under-inflated ball and encased a flesh with the unexpectedly rich and slightly fermented taste of wine. But you don’t have to wait until dessert for intoxication.

An excellent sake selection is served, by the glass or bottle, hako-style, in a glass within a wooden box made of hinoki wood. Drink fast: as soon as it was poured our Kubota Senju sake visibly seeped into the box’s corner joints, and at the end of the meal when I lifted my box to drain it, there was a very light, square imprint on the table where some had leaked out.

In this supersized, gluttonous, mega buffet age, Ichiriki offers a refreshingly civilized way to dine out. You’ll leave full and satisfied–not overstuffed.

Ichiriki

510 Pi’ikoi St (589-2299)
Hours: Mon-Thu 5-11pm, Fri-Sat 5pm-12am, Sun 5-10pm
Price Range: Entrees $15.95-$45.95
Recommended: surume, Kei’s spicy Pirikara broth, Ichiriki nabe, ujikintoki
Payment: AmEx, Disc, JCB, V, MC

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