I was talking to a friend of mine that had been to Japan before my first trip there. He is an interventional cardiologist who is happy to eat foie gras, only in moderation he would say, and I have seen him take down a fermented duck embryo when I would not, so he has street cred with me. When I asked him about the best places to get sushi in Tokyo, he sort of nonchalantly mentioned that I should probably try a sushi place called Sushi Dai. It struck me as odd how blasé he was about the recommendation while being adamant that I go there. I asked him what the big deal about it was and he sort gave me a ho hum response, but reiterated that I really, really needed to go there.
Sushi Dai, at that time was at the Tsukiji Market, and he said that I would need to get there incredibly early in the morning. I said something to the effect of ‘why would I need to be there in the morning to get sushi, and by the way, how early are you talking?’ He explained that getting there by 4 or 4:30am would be my best bet. I laughed thinking it was a joke. He wasn’t kidding. I’m not much of a morning person, and aside from it seeming weird to eat sushi at five in the morning, I wasn’t sure I was that interested in going.
The restaurant opens at 5:30am and they stop taking people in line around 7:30am—they close at 2pm. People start lining up as early as 3:30 am. On a good day, a three or four hour wait was to be expected and getting there that early would ensure you were able to make it before the cutoff. While breakfast sushi was novel, and I was intrigued by it, I was a little skeptical because of my friend‘s relative casual attitude towards something that would require near herculean efforts to get up that early and stand in line for four hours.
I gave my friend the benefit of the doubt, after all, if you aren’t willing to get up in the dark to eat sushi is food really that important to you? I had flown halfway across the world, so I wasn’t going to miss out on ho hum sushi. Tokyo was my first stop in Asia and after the long flight, and seemingly as long a cab ride from Narita to Tokyo, I was wiped out. So, when I had to get up before the crack of dawn, my body had no idea where it was, let alone what time it was.
There was hardly anyone around at the hotel that early, and when I asked for a cab the bellman looked at me like I was crazy. I asked him if he could tell the taxi driver where I was going and when he looked at the name and address, he looked up at me with a smile from ear to ear that had not been there before. He nodded several times with enthusiasm; I got an idea I might be getting something more than just ho hum.
Getting to the market in the dark was a little problematic, but I eventually found the place after asking a few people. Navigating past the whizzing forklifts and carts was a little dizzying, but when I finally found the line, I saw that I was on the later side of arrivals. I had foolishly waited until 4:30 to leave the hotel.
As I stood in line, a gentleman came by and took my order. It gave false hope as it happened about three hours before I actually ate, but who was keeping track? It did provide some momentary distraction from standing in line. We were cued up on the sidewalk of a busy street, there were stanchions to keep you out of the way, but there wasn’t anywhere to sit. Some, smart, people had brought chairs. I was not smart. Traveling alone can have benefits and disadvantages, and I did not have the foresight to bring anything to eat with me. It seemed counterintuitive to bring food to stand in line to get food, but about 5:30am I realized the error of my ways when the couple in front of me decided that one of them should go get them something to eat. It turns out that standing around thinking about the food you are going to eat makes you hungry. If they had made the food run an hour later, I would have been hungry enough to ask them if I could give them some money to get me something too.
The line started to move once the restaurant was open, slowly; the time to cycle all the people in front of me was going to take the better part of the morning. It was about 45 minutes per seating, and I had no idea how many people were in the labyrinth of a line ahead of me, or where the restaurant actually was. There was plenty of activity to keep you occupied for a while, but eventually boredom rears its ugly head. At about hour two and half, the order-taker from my distant memory was asking if there was a party of one. I hit the sushi lottery. Apparently, no one else stands in line for hours on end to eat breakfast sushi by themselves. That day, it paid to be alone.
Having jumped the line by at least three or four seatings, two or three hours, I was taken to some prearranged chairs outside the restaurant that was a staging area, sort of the on-deck circle for the sushi plate. After sitting in one of the dozen chairs for about forty minutes, the doors opened, and people started to come out of the restaurant revealing how tiny it was inside. I was ushered in first and seated at the furthest seat close to the sink. There was barely enough room to walk down the aisle it was so tight.
As we sat there, my eleven new best friends and I, that had bonded over hours spent waiting and hanging out together on little chairs, were now upgraded to little stools to sit on. No one cared.
The courses came one after another, each building on the last in flavor and beauty. As I ate the sushi that was unlike any I had ever had before, I thought of my friend and his ho hum attitude about the sushi and was reminded of a another friend of mine who is a fishing guide in Montana. He told me that whether it was the best day fishing or the worst day fishing, whenever anyone asked him how his day of fishing was, he always said it was just okay.
So, if you are thinking about standing in line for three hours to eat breakfast sushi, it might be worth doing, I mean it was just sort of okay. Next time I will bring some snacks and a folding chair.
