tokyo s willing cog, in an enormous machine requiring long hours, low pay, total dedication. and sometimes, what s called karoshi, death by overwork. here in a society of tight spaces and many expectations, the pressure s on. to keep up appearances, to do what s expected. to not let the interior life become exterior. but at night, things are different. what do you need to know about tokyo? deep, deep waters. the first time i came here, it was like it was a transformative, experience. it was a powerful and violent experience. it was as if it was just like taking acid for the first time. meaning, what do i do now? i see the whole world in a different way. i often compare the experience of going to japan for the first time, going to tokyo for the first time, to what eric clapton and pete townsend must ve gone through, the reigning guitar gods of england, what they must ve gone through the week that jimi hendrix came to town. you hear about it, you go see it, the whole
the most noticeable is his hands. they re huge. look at the knuckles, enormous from years of pounding cement walls during repeated daily practice in kyokushin karate. he first trained and competed in tokyo. and when he came to new york, he continued to practice. often, in underground, bare knuckle matches, where you fight until someone gets beaten to the ground. this style yasuda practiced, was about beating your opponent as quickly and as aggressively as possible. speed. every second is important. rice is getting cold, seaweed is getting soggy, fish, less than perfect temperature. look at his posture a fighter s stance. distance, knowing the perfect spot to be. moving in and out as needed, never out of position. timing, reacting to his customers pace of eating, their ever changing desires, always
often, in underground, bare-knuckle matches, where you fight until someone gets beaten to the ground. this style, yasuda practiced, was about beating your opponent as quickly and as aggressively as possible. speed. every second is important. rice is getting cold. seaweed is getting soggy. fish, less than perfect temperature. look at his posture. a fighter s stance. distance, knowing the perfect spot to be. moving in and out as needed. never out of position. timing, reacting to his customers pace of eating. their ever-changing desires, always ready for the next move. most people who don t understand sushi, who go to a sushi bar and say, oh, i had the best sushi last night. the fish was so fresh. it was right out of the ocean. yasuda: uh, the freshest fish, there is no taste. it s just chewy, just hard.
and complex man, who constantly surprises. yasuda: tony-san, this wasabi is one of the most expensive wasabi. so, i wait, wait, wait. uh, finally, this one goes to the, uh, discount box. then, i bought this. anthony: that s very french of you. [ laughter ] so many things separate yasuda-san from other japanese sushi masters. the most noticeable is his hands. they re huge. look at the knuckles, enormous from years of pounding cement walls during repeated daily practice in kyokushin karate. he first trained and competed in tokyo. and when he came to new york, he continued to practice. often, in underground, bare-knuckle matches, where you fight until someone gets beaten to the ground. this style, yasuda practiced,
this style, yasuda practiced, was about beating your opponent as quickly and as aggressively as possible. speed. every second is important. rice is getting cold. seaweed is getting soggy. fish, less than perfect temperature. look at his posture. a fighter s stance. distance, knowing the perfect spot to be. moving in and out as needed. never out of position. timing, reacting to his customers pace of eating. their ever-changing desires, always ready for the next move. most people who don t understand sushi, who go to a sushi bar and say, oh, i had the best sushi last night. the fish was so fresh. it was right out of the ocean. yasuda: uh, the freshest fish, there is no taste. it s just chewy, just hard. and, uh, people think, oh, freshest should be good. but, it, it wasn t. anthony: yasuda s menu