Tiny, hard-to-spot restaurants are a longstanding tradition in Japan, and Ichimura at Brushstroke is steeped in tradition. Mr. Ichimura, 58, practices the Edo-mae style of sushi that he learned decades ago in Tokyo. Developed in street stalls in the era before refrigeration, Edo-mae sushi was made with fish that had often been cured in salt or vinegar, or stored in soy sauce to keep it from spoiling.
Mr. Ichimura’s sushi is a direct descendant of this style, and while he has toned down his use of salt over the years, his fish still offers stronger flavors than are encountered in most New York sushi restaurants. Even the rice, seasoned with a blend of three vinegars, is unusually assertive; it may ruin other sushi for you.
In a phone interview translated by Jamie Graves, Brushstroke’s manager, Mr. Ichimura said he first went to work in a sushi restaurant 42 years ago as a dishwasher. Only after a few years was he permitted, under close supervision, to cut the heads off some fish.
“Nobody actually tells you how to press sushi,” Mr. Graves translated, “so he would do it at night based on watching the chefs do it during the day.” Mr. Ichimura kept a wad of paper in his pocket and when nobody was looking he would copy the motions he had seen: index finger laid over the paper, elbows flexed, he would extend his arms slightly to project a quick, even, gentle pressure. Eventually, still in secrecy, he began to practice after hours with actual fish instead of paper.
He learned the kobu-jime technique, layering fish with kelp, which pulls water from the flesh and leaves behind a umami flavor and a green color. One night, Mr. Ichimura served me fluke that had been prepared that way several days earlier, then carved off a slice of pure white fluke that had arrived just that morning. It was a concise refutation of those who say that sushi chefs don’t do any cooking.
That charge is especially untrue in Mr. Ichimura’s case. He makes the zensai and other cooked dishes that begin each meal. These may include salty fermented tuna, octopus suckers dabbed with wasabi and plum paste, or soy-marinated trout roe on top of tofu skins, so soft they barely hold together during the trip from bowl to mouth.
