A note about Hamazushi

Did I tell you last year about Hamazushi? A sushi restaurant that is a microcosm of everything that is Japanese. What do you think of when you think of Japan? Sushi? Technology? Quirkiness? Loneliness? Hamazushi has it all. 

Let’s start with the sushi, it is not the best cuts of tuna, or just off the boatsea bass but it is cheap, less than a euro for a plate, and that allows you to try all different types of seafood without being worried about wasting money, (you’ll know what I mean about that if you ever order something with Japanese basil or natto).  Every time I go, I try to try something new, this time trying flame grilled fatty sardines and horse mackerel. I see Hamazushi as my sushi warm up area, making your trips to the more expensive places more efficient because you are limber and ready to go.

So to technology. When you arrive in Hamazushi you are greeted by a small Honda robot dressed in Hamazushi uniform, who welcomes you to the restaurant and invites you to touch its iPad. It issues you a ticket with two numbers and a fish printed on it. Once checked in you wait until your first number is flashed on the screen, then you go back to the robot and touch the fish that corresponds to the second number. Plop, out comes a second ticket with your seat number.  Absolutely no human interaction, perfect for shy foreigner like me. Once you get to your seat, there is an iPad above the table. Here you can scroll through your fishes wishes, or fishy wishy and make your order. Now, all you can do is wait and watch the delicious fish circle on the conveyor belt or make yourself a refreshing cup of green tea using the hot water taps on the table. Then, when you least expect it, doobee do do de doo, your iPad sings and flashes and a voice tells you that your fish dish is on its way. Here, you have to be clever, you have to remember what you ordered and what it looks like. Failure to do so will see your seafood supper sail off into the ether. When you’ve decided you’ve had your fill, you press a button to pay. But is it the green one or the yellow one? I sit there for three minutes like an action hero trying to remember if it is the green or yellow cord to cut to stop the bomb. I close my eyes and press yellow. There is no explosion, so I must have done the right one. A serve arrives, a real-life human who counts your plates, prints a bill, which you then take to another real-life human who takes your money. 

Do I need to deal with quirkiness? 

You will have already noted some of the loneliness, there is a real lack of human interaction, but there is more. There are families in Hamazushi and couples, but the counter seats are often full of lone diners, wolfing down their sushi and miso soup whilst checking their phones. Loneliness is a plague in Japan, therefore I am suggesting a Hamazushi singles night.