New Haven Restaurant Week, Day 4B—Miya’s Sushi

Early in its 27-year history, Miya’s in New Haven was a fine traditional Japanese restaurant, whose closest kin would have included restaurants like Hatsune in New Haven (long gone) or Mako in Fairfield (not so long gone). More than a decade before I became a food writer, I counted myself a good friend of owner Yoshiko Lai and her children (Bun, Ted & Miya), of then sushi chef Tadahiro “Haya” Hayasaka, and of then kitchen chef David Hayden (sadly departed). My best friend, Mark Collins, waited tables there for years. Many a Japanese treat—traditional or invented—and many a sake bottle—hot or cold—drained down Mark’s and my adventurous gullets.

Miya’s was located on Chapel Street then, around the corner from its present day Howe Street location. It had a loyal following, and to reward its supporters it would open a couple of times a year just for them, producing an incredible all-you-can-eat buffet. Shortly before the restaurant moved to its current quarters,

I suggested to Yoshiko that few New Haven restaurants were open on Mondays and it might be great counter-programming to offer the buffet to the public. Yoshiko adopted my suggestion, and the all-you-can-eat buffet became enormously popular, eventually moving to Wednesday nights, if memory serves me correctly.

Miya’s has evolved since those days, or more correctly, has been radically transformed by son Bun’s leadership, creativity and raised consciousness. I remember Bun as a handsome, cocky kid, and it’s gratifying to count the even handsomer, cocky-yet-humble grownup he’s become one of my closest friends.

Years ago, Bun offered to take me under his wing and train me as a sushi chef, which I have always regretted not being able to do at that time. Perhaps I’ll yet take him up on the offer someday. I suppose my friendship with the family means that anything I have to say about Miya’s should be taken with a grain of salt (or a gram of soy sauce), but those who have followed my work know I always tell it like it is.

In the interest of telling it like it is, I will say that Miya’s isn’t for everyone. It’s not even for every lover of Japanese food or sushi. For that matter, it’s never a craving for Japanese food or sushi that brings me to Miya’s. It’s a yearning for some of the most creative and at times downright weird food you can find anywhere. It’s a hunger for vittles that leaves my insides feeling just plain happy afterward. It’s a fixation on fare that engages my brain as well as my stomach. It’s a hankering for creations that take the Japanese or sushi paradigm and superimpose it onto other settings, sometimes turning it on its head.

While Yoshiko’s drive and generous spirit continues to propel the restaurant operation forward, it’s Bun’s wild imagination that constantly takes it into uncharted waters. As I imagine his thought process, Bun wonders how sushi would have developed where mankind arose, and suddenly ingredients from the Great Rift Valley are incorporated into a roll. Bun wonders what sushi would be like if it arose in Greece, and suddenly a roll is wrapped in grape leaves rather than nori.

But Bun’s not just pursuing some dry intellectual exercise—he’s putting his belief system into practice. Bun will forage for wild grape leaves on the hillsides of Hamden, then cure the grape leaves by simmering them in salmon bone brine. If a dish requires shiso leaves, they’re already growing in a front window of the restaurant.

Despite his combined Japanese and Chinese heritage, Bun recognizes that the planetary pursuit of sushi has been quite destructive. Consequently, he tries not to incorporate ingredients that have been overfished or in their production have a negative environmental impact. Roughly half of his menu is vegetable-centered. Unconventional ingredients like catfish are utilized.

While other restaurants participating in the New Haven Restaurant Week promotion offered three-course prix-fixe menus, Bun, predictably, charted a different course. Instead, he offered a 10-course extravaganza that had more in common with a kaiseki dinner. And those with imagination and receptiveness to new ideas and combinations were rewarded with an incredible feast. Vegetarian and kosher versions of the special were even offered.

My friend Bob ordered the kosher version for the sole purpose of increasing the number of items we would get to sample. The meal began with a bowl of it’s the great pumpkin, miso, an enriched version of the classic soup featuring local farm-grown pumpkin, vegetables and miso.

After the soup, staff member Michelle brought out 21 small plates (but who’s counting) containing the bulk of our feast. Ta-daaaa!!!

Here’s Bun flanked by the lovely Michelle and the equally lovely Rachel. Isn’t the Bun supposed to be on the outside, rather than in the middle?

And here are those dishes without distraction, the food being pretty lovely in its own right.

And now I’m going to attempt to walk readers through the menagerie of sushi dishes one by one, as we lived them. Here’s the nine-spice sashimi, which is tilapia seasoned with housemade Chinese firecracker sake, citrus juice and spices.

I remember years ago when Miya’s produced a tempura sweet potato roll (it probably still does), but the kiss the smiling piggie roll, which despite its name contains no meat or pork, takes it one better with sweet potato, mango chutney and pine nuts.

Tongue firmly planted in cheek, this one is called the ride the wild donkey roll—shrimp, papaya, apricots and Brie cheese in a whole grain roll, tempura-fried whole—said to be inspired by the complex sexuality of donkeys. It’s quite a combination. But I might change this to the ride the wild dolphin roll, based on dolphins’ unmatched sexuality and the presence of seafood in the dish. Donkey is probably a little funnier, but dolphin more apt.

I believe the kosher substitution for this roll was the wild grape leaf roll featuring foraged wild grape leaves wrapped around avocado, extra virgin olive oil and flying fish caviar, a truly Mediterranean offering.

The black-eyed squid roll seems to incorporate Spanish and Chinese ideas, wrapping rice seasoned with imported Spanish squid ink and seafood stock around a center of fried squid, Chinese black beans and scallions.

Bun is so good at playing the outrageous straight that I have trouble telling when he’s kidding. So when he calls Charlie Chan’s ching chong roll “a six hundred year old recipe,” he could either be having us all on or he could be deadly serious. You can ask him next time you see him—and then try to decide whether he’s giving you a straight answer or not. At any rate, this roll combining broccoli, roasted garlic and cured Chinese black beans is one of my favorites.

The ebibaba, which features tempura shrimp wrapped in potato skin infused with shrimp stock and topped with torch-toasted Danish Havarti cheese and a lemon dill sauce was listed number ten of fifty in an article in Connecticut Magazine called “Dishes To Try Before You Die.”

The kosher version, splendidly named the rabbibaba, replaces the shrimp with salmon, a substitution that taps into salmon’s wonderful affinity for dill. Of course, I could have shown you two photographs of the same roll, and you’d never have known the difference.

Next we tried the passion without words roll. This combination of mushrooms, asparagus, Brie cheese and whole grains, tempura fried whole, is said to be inspired by the flavors of French country cuisine.

Another one of Bun’s intriguing ideas, the two fish cha cha features escolar seared with tuna, the one fish seasoning the other.

The kosher substitution was simple but delicious wild hamachi.

The next roll was my absolute favorite. Said to be inspired by all strong women who like to ride bulls, the hot-headed cowgirl roll combined a coconut-covered roll of avocado, cream cheese, papaya, burdock root and hot pepper.

The ginger tuna tataki showcased nigiri-style, seaweed-seared tuna topped with scallions and ginger-garlic-roasted-sesame-Sauvignon-Blanc soy sauce. Normal soy sauce, even the low-salt version, is harsh tasting. Top sushi chefs usually blend their own soy sauce.

The prettiest sushi of all might have been kimchee-seasoned nigiri sushi. Mine featured beautiful pieces of pole-caught black marlin, pole-caught yellowfin tuna and netted wild salmon positioned over soft pillows of sushi rice.

My companion’s kosher version featured land-locked salmon and yellowfin tuna.

Even the pickled ginger was housemade.

The Restaurant Week menu must have kept the dishwasher busy. Here’s Michelle removing just some of our dishes.

From all of this you could get the mistaken impression that the menu is almost entirely sushi, but some of Miya’s non-sushi items, like sweet mother’s milk (whole steamed artichoke with spicy housemade makdous), hoi polloi salmon (a tortilla cup filled with salmon sashimi, capers, tomato, onion, olive oil and lemon soy sauce) and Tokyo fries (crispy potato seasoned with a spicy curry and tomato aïoli), are among my favorites.

Dessert was a seven deadly sushi roll of banana, peanut butter, strawberry and chocolate deep-fried and topped with baby scoops of hand-churned rose petal ice cream. It was the grand finale of a remarkable and challenging culinary odyssey.

Throughout the meal, we wet our whistles with housemade ginger beer

and firecracker sake. Yep, that sake’s every bit as incendiary as it looks.

I said earlier that Miya’s Sushi is not for everyone, but it’s for an awful lot of people. Any time I stop by, I find the restaurant busy. No restaurant I can think of has more loyal or enthusiastic customers.

And it’s never too early to start inculcating the next generation.

Miya’s Sushi, 68 Howe Street, New Haven, 203-777-9760