Small fry, big price
$200 for fried food? The high-cuisine offerings at a new tempura temple are anything but state-fair fare
F ROM Masa to Sushi Nakazawa, Japanese-food fiends in the city are used to dropping big money on sushi. But fried veggies and shrimp? Not so much . . . until now.
Last month, Japanese chef Masao Matsui , 65, opened Tempura Matsui in Midtown (222 E. 39th St.), and it’s the city’s first fine dining restaurant focusing on battered-and-fried seafood and vegetables.
The set menu is $200 — there’s no a la carte option — and features about nine expertly prepared seasonal tempura dishes, from scallops to gingko nuts. The tempura is bookended by other courses, including sashimi, a rice dish and dessert.
While some may question paying (nearly) Per Se prices for crispy bits of fish and carrots, this is a far fry from the oily piles served at most Japanese joints.
“Everybody’s [saying] that they’ve never had this kind of tempura,” says Matsui, who recently moved to New York City from Japan and spoke with The Post through a translator. “It’s kind of the same as when people [first] have good sushi.”
The initial tempura piece he sends out to diners at the 19-seat restaurant is a delicate, perfectly crispy shrimp’s head, followed by the shrimp’s tail. It’s the restaurant’s signature dish.
“Every step is quite simple but requires craftsmanship,” says the chef, who has been practicing the art since he was 18. “You have to be passionate about trying to make the perfect flavor; once you lose that mindset, you cannot be successful.”
• The shrimp: Matsui uses maki shrimp —“It’s the sweetest,” he says — flown in twice weekly from the Tsukiji Market in Tokyo. “[Good] tempura uses equally fresh ingredients [as sushi].” The shrimp’s tail is cut in such a way that it remains straight, not curled. “It’s beautiful like that,” says the chef.
• The batter: It’s simply egg yolk, water and flour whisked together. Matsui doesn’t measure anything, instead doing it all by feel. Every ingredient must be cold to prevent the batter from becoming too thick. He makes his batter thinner than some corner Japanese restaurants, so that the fried crust is especially light.
“I want people to enjoy the flavor of the ingredients,” he says. “If the batter is thick, you won’t see the sweetness of the shrimp.”
• Frying: The shrimp’s head and tail are fried in a shallow blend of sesame and cottonseed oils. Some places just use sesame oil, but, Matsui says, the light cottonseed oil “allows the flavor of fresher fish to come through.”
While the shrimp is frying, he keeps it moving, prodding the shellfish with cooking chopsticks. “You have to make the fish dance in the oil,” he says. “It makes it look and taste better.”