Sushi Dai
03-3547-6797 5-2-1 Tsukiji Central Ward 6 Tsukiji Wholesale Market
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Japanese Sushi Tokyo Tsukiji Fish Market

Five in the evening is the magic number for those who love to drink. For sushi fans in the fishy heart of Tokyo, Japan, the magic starts at five in the morning - two hours after the first chefs have arrived, and perhaps an hour after the first patrons have started to form lines at restaurant doors. This is not Sunday breakfast or a special holiday event; in fact, the two best restaurants in Tokyo's vaunted Tsukiji Fish Market are closed on Sundays and holidays. Rather, this is obsession: these are the places and times that locals go to eat what's widely regarded to be the world's freshest sushi, served by chefs who have literally immediate access to the best fish found anywhere in the world.

Across two trips to Tsujiki in late 2006 and late 2007, we visited both Daiwa Sushi and Sushi Dai, tiny, famous shops that are packed with patrons every morning and afternoon, with lines running out their nearby doors. We share the lines with many Japanese businessmen, typically individuals rather than in couples, and over time, more and more foreign tourists who have read about these spots and come to see whether the stories are true. Will the food, after waiting outdoors at a fish market for an hour, really be memorable on quality? Or will these, like so many other restaurants, prove to be nothing more than overhyped "experience dining," the sushi playing second fiddle to the story of the lines and the crowded seating? And which is better?

Over several visits, we discover that both of these restaurants do in fact sell the best sushi we've ever eaten - better than L.A.'s famed but controversial Sushi Nozawa, not just in fish quality, but also in pricing. They refuse to sell fish that has ever been frozen, a luxury only afforded to establishments immediately next to water and fishers. Both places sell sushi by the piece off of limited, well-worn menus, but patrons are recommended to try the "omakase," or chef's selection of fish, at a set price. Daiwa Sushi's 7-piece, 1-roll omakase is roughly $35, with a smaller $20 version; you'll get 10 pieces and 1 roll at Sushi Dai for the same $35 price. Sushi Dai also offers a less expensive "premium" meal with 8 pieces of your choice for $30, and a seven piece version with less expensive sushi for $20. For reference, a similar omakase meal at L.A.'s Nozawa, with 10 or so pieces of sushi, would typically set you back $50 or more.

At Sushi Dai, our meal begins next to a couple from New York, who seem perplexed by the menu's lack of California Rolls and other familiar, Americanized options. A tall cup of hot green tea helps resuscitate us after 45 minutes of chilly Tokyo November morning weather, and we gaze at the fish-related gear -- hooks, a sushi clock, and tray after tray of fresh fish on display in the cramped, 12- or 13-seat shop. A bowl arrives with delicious but unusual Miso soup, infused with a slightly fishy flavor that's revealed, after consumption, to come from tiny clams in the bottom of the bowl. The tea, thick with color, cleanses the palate for the beginning of the chef-selected sushi course, which includes pieces of sea urchin, Spanish mackerel, tuna, abalone, salmon roe, conger eel, and shrimp, as well as a tuna hand roll, and a block of sweet layered egg.

Describing each of these pieces separately is, in a phrase, almost impossible. Collectively, they stun on appearance by just looking different from the sushi you find at other restaurants -- the pieces of fish are cut thick and wide, hanging off of the beds of sweet, slightly warm rice that sit underneath, and every piece glistens as if it hasn't had long to sit in Sushi Dai's simple countertop storage unit. The sea urchin, or uni - a dangerous dish to order in U.S. restaurants due to its rapid spoilage and consequently unappealing texture and taste - is sweet, fresh, and enjoyable here. And the tuna is, without question, the very best we have ever tasted: treated like a commodity elsewhere, it is red, plump, and moist here, even better in a fatty tuna version we then order individually. Dai's well-known conger eel is large and soft, all but melting on your tongue, with a natural sweetness that evokes the glaze typically placed on its freshwater equivalent.

Though there are brief flashes of recognition as each piece passes from tongue to stomach, the predominant thoughts running through our heads are primal: "amazing, delicious, more." There are reasons locals here insist that between Sushi Dai and Daiwa, you get equal quality to and better value than at the city's most expensive sushi places; it is, quite simply, not possible to have sushi better than this.

The line at Daiwa Sushi moves faster; this place now occupies two small shops that are each the size of Sushi Dai, maintaining separate sushi counters without table-side seating in each one. Three chefs man each counter of 8 or 9 people, catering to a clientele looking for the same quality as Sushi Dai, but with a shorter wait and commensurately fewer pieces for the price.

Our Omakase meal begins with fatty tuna, perfectly marbled and - like Daiwa's - still glistening with its original moisture. Spanish mackerel, topped deliciously with a dab of grated ginger, is followed by a thick piece of tuna, scallops, a massive, wet piece of abalone held on top of rice with a band of seaweed, a piece of sea urchin, and a tuna hand roll, amongst other items proferred by the chef or separately ordered. Just as with Sushi Dai, Daiwa Sushi's pieces feel as if their consumption is an inevitability, with a slight rice warmth and subtle flavors that conjure emotional, rather than rational reactions.

Which of these shops is better? They each have their idiosyncrasies; Daiwa Sushi typically starts your experience with an overaggressive line manager, who periodically inspects the waiting crowd of hungry people, physically turning people to form a tight, snaking S in front of its doors - the same place is a little less friendly about photography, as well. We wait longer at Sushi Dai, literally watching Daiwa's longer line move as we're standing still, and the cramped quarters feel almost comical. But the presentation is a little better, and the clam-based miso offers an unforgettable start to an equally memorable meal. For the price, and despite the wait, we conclude, we'd sooner return to Sushi Dai; the quality of their fish may be nearly identical, but quantity and service matter, too.