Michelle Gunn! Michelle Gunn! Michelle Gunn!

Fish tales.

• Nearest station: Tsukiji-shijō (Ōedo Line, click here for a route planner)
• Open: Before dawn to ~1 p.m.
• Closed: National holidays, Sundays, some Wednesdays. Click here for 2008 opening days [red dot = closed; blue triangle = temporary opening day].

Background:

Tsukiji Market (築地市場, Tsukiji-shijō) is the world’s largest seafood market. It was founded by Tokugawa Ieyasu (the first Tokugawa shōgun) as a distribution point to feed the growing city of Edo.

The market is world renowned for its tuna auctions. Beside the fish, there is also a fresh fruit and veg area. It would seem, however, that maguro are a bigger draw than matsutake.

Like any place of business, there is a flow of trade. Deliveries from around the world are unloaded and put up for auction. Middlemen make their purchases from seven wholesalers. The produce is then taken to the market stalls, where it is prepared for general purchase.

Similar to practices all over the world, restaurants and chefs have close links with their suppliers. Networking, often facilitated by the kohai-sempai system (junior-senior) or chef associations, means that supplier-restaurant relationships are often long-standing affairs.

The inner market is the licensed wholesale area; the outer market contains stalls selling kitchenware, utensils (such as knives) and various other goods as well as foodstuffs, both wholesale and retail.

Visit:

Set your alarm clock or turn up after a night on the town. Tsukiji is also a good place to visit if you’re struggling with jet lag.

The tuna auctions are one of the main draws for visitors. If you arrive before dawn (~4 to 5 a.m.), you might be able to sneak into the tuna auctions. Most people arrive a little later, with the first trains (~6 a.m. onwards). It is still possible to view the tuna as they are laid out on the warehouse floor, being marked up for delivery. Between 8 a.m. and 10 a.m. visitor numbers peak, but the market is less frantic with business.

Follow the signs out of the station and take two lefts. You’ll see the main entrance to the market, full of trucks unloading and carrying away produce. Tsukiji is a working market so keep your wits about you and watch out for the little carts.

Walk a little further and you’ll hit the market itself, an arc of aquatic wonders: tuna, sea cucumbers, turtles, eels, geoducks. If it lives in the water and you can eat it, you’ll probably find it here.

Tsukiji’s other big attraction is the sushi. There are a plethora of sushi restaurants in and around the market. Daiwa Sushi (大和寿司) is perhaps the most famous. The market staff will suggest it if you ask them for a recommendation.

When it comes to ordering, I strongly suggest you avoid the convenience and comfort of a set menu unless you are on a tight budget. This will not only allow to cater to your tastes and experiment, but more importantly give you access to better quality food and service. Budget around ¥5000 for an assortment of 10 pieces of nigiri sushi (握り寿司) and a bottle of warm sake.

If you are pressed for time, hate waiting or dislike crowded places, the other, much quieter restaurants in the same block will surely also satisfy your cravings. They will most likely result in a more relaxed meal as well. Alternatives can be found outside the market, but quality can vary. Oft mentioned alternatives (which the author has not visited) are Sushidai (寿司大), near Daiwa Sushi, and Sushizanmai (すしざんまい), part of a kaitenzushi (conveyor belt sushi) chain, thus more reasonably priced.

As Tsukiji is a famous tourist spot, a fair number of places will either have an English menu, one with pictures or staff with rudimentary English skills. Also, at the counter most, though not necessarily all, of the types of food on offer will be on display. Point.

Tsukiji Market is an insitution, top on the list of things many visitors to Tokyo wish to experience and with good reason. The atmosphere and food are magnificent. You will most likely have some of the best sushi of your life. Should you need one, it also gives you the perfect excuse to have a drink with breakfast.

Tips & Advice:

• Dress sensibly. Pools of water, fish guts and other slakings abound.
• Unfortunately, this is also not a very child-friendly excursion. Take kids who are crazy about sea-life to an aquarium (or Okinawa) instead.
• Tired of waiting for sushi? You will often be seated faster if dining alone. Perfect for the solo traveller. If you are in a group, decide beforehand whether you are willing to split up, then grab at the opportunities as they are presented.
• Even kaitenzushi looking a little pricey? Look for a restaurant that serves chirashi sushi (ちらし寿司) - a rice bowl with scattered cuts of fish and seafood on top. Not as elegant as nigiri sushi, but a hearty, tasty, cheaper alternative.

My Way:

I arrive around 7 a.m. and head straight for the market. The policeman in his koban by the entrance watches the tourists hurry by under the grey skies.

I almost immediately lose my bearings. I’m always a little disorientated when I first hit the market. The noise and bustle is a shock to the system at this time in the morning.

I make it to the tuna warehouse. The fish are lined up like so many statues at a temple. I narrowly avoid death by heavy lifter as I snap away with my camera.

Wandering back into the inner market, I watch men cutting up tuna with band saws and three foot long knives. At one of the stalls an Englishman is purchasing a slab. I ask him whether he runs a restaurant in Tokyo. No, comes the reply, as he drops the paper wrapped, crimson tuna into a wicker basket. He’s going to smuggle the fish back to Cornwall.

I stop to marvel at an old man deboning unagi (eel). When my friend Ichi the Chef brought me here, he explained to me that to work with such skill and speed required years of practice. Eels are notoriously difficult to handle.

I try to figure out the way back towards the main gate and find Daiwa Sushi. Just as I’m losing faith in my usually homing pigeon level sense of direction, I emerge into the pale morning light blinking.

Crossing roads more deadly (but probably cleaner) than those of Naples, I queue for sushi. I try an underhand tactic, exploiting other visitors’ lack of Japanese to make the wait shorter. The hard-boiled waitress gives me short shrift.

I adopt a new tactic: play by waitress’s rules. She’s scary.

I squeeze right up to the Chinese guy in front of me after the queue is ordered to take up less space. His group are using English to isolate their aged mother. They start speaking in Cantonese, with similar intent, suggesting their mother take the next available place for one person.

Inside the restaurant I immediately order a bottle of warm nihonshu. I ask for a bigger bottle. There aren’t any. Politely declining the chef’s offer of a set menu, I set about ordering à la carte.

My good friend the geoduck (mirugai) is absent. Fortunately, everything else I love is available. The ama-ebi (sweet shrimp), aji (horse mackerel) and awabi (abalone) are all excellent.

I order anago (conger eel) and ō-toro (fatty tuna belly) to finish. It is convention to end with anago (a speciality of this restaurant). I ignore this, pop the conger into my mouth first, then close with the ō-toro. A slice of heaven.

. . .

Video soundtrack by EeL.