Sushi a La Hattori

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  I came here a few months ago. I read that this place was 'world-class' sushi, so I had to try it. I remember that the Ikura was super fresh. However, all of the sashimi I ordered was fishy. Like, it-all-tastes-the-same fishy. It was a sad day. Maybe they were off. The woman who likely owns it was strange and upon complimenting the Ikura, she grimaced at me and said I told her before. Really weird...
  
  I really liked the outside area though. Lots of funky metal sculptures. Very pretty location.

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  Posted on 06.28.13 Maxwell Y.

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  I've been to top sushi restaurants - Tao in NYC, Nobu in Vegas, etc. I was blown away by this little eatery in Taos of all places. It was authentic, delicious, fresh. The fusion of flavors showed artistry - this is not the regular California Roll type of joint. With a nod to local flavors such as chili peppers, the chef showed his talent. Our kids got special fun plates and enjoyed their food. The restaurant wasn't stuffy and therefore we felt comfortable having a 8 and 6 year old (although well behaved) at the restaurant. We'll visit this sushi restaurant each time we visit Taos.

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  Posted on 06.08.13 Laura W.

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  Best Japanese in Taos. Very fresh fish for a remote, landlocked small town. Mom loves the chicken katsu. Owners are Japanese and if this place is open, they are there working. That means you will always get good food. Heck, you can even get a decent bowl of ramen there. Also, it's in a beautiful location overlooking mountain scenery. Check it out, and tell Mama-san I said hi.

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  Posted on 01.20.13 Jaime P.

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  Hidden behind the Overland Sheepskin Company, with a wooden porch swing and rusted tractor out front, Sushi a la Hattori struck me as the last place I'd want to get sushi at. The owners, Gin and Hiromi Hattori, seemed to agree. As my large party flocked toward the door, Hiromi scowled. "You want to sit outside or inside?" she frowned, as we hovered dubiously around the porch, alternately taking in the magnificent view of Taos Mountain, and quailing under the idea of raw fish served in the dry heat of the American Southwest.  
  
  My mother decided for us. "Party of ten, inside." We gulped and followed, wishing it wasn't so. So what if my parents really wanted to treat the future in-laws to an "authentic Asian dinner"? Couldn't they do it on their own Northern Californian turf, where they had at least staked down a few places where we were sure not to get food poisoning? Why here? Why now?
  
  But the dads had already wandered onto the wooden porch to share cross-cultural bottles of Sam Adams and warm sake. There was no turning back.  
  
  My mother ordered everything as we watched on in skepticism. Unagi. Spicy tuna. Ebi. Fresh octopus. Geoduck. Scallops. Inari. Toro. Gyoza. Patagonian toothfish. Saba. Pork, beef and chicken udon. Teriyaki chicken. Shots of raw quail egg suspended in sweet vinegar.
  
  Hiromi's complexion softened. She hurried back to the kitchen, and relayed the order to her husband in Japanese. He turned around and repeated the order in Spanish to his fellow cooks.  
  
  15 minutes later, my nieces passed the first judgement. "Sharghafdafhwu" they intoned, as they dropped their sparkly batons and grabbed freshly pan-fried dumplings. The plate of gyoza was decimated in a matter of minutes. It looked like a go.
  
  We were pleasantly surprised (nonchalant for "utterly astounded") when we ventured our first bite of sashimi. The salmon was fresh, so fresh. The freshness lingered as the salmon's buttery richness overwhelmed me and forced me to clear off an entire plate of sashimi. The spicy tuna was (not to overstress the point, but...) refreshingly fresh. So often, spiciness is used to mask the flavor of tuna a few days off, but the Hattori's sacrificed nothing of freshness in all their dishes. The octopus nigiri was sweet and chewy, with a faint hint of oceanic saltiness. The Saba and sea bass/toothfish were seared to sizzling, tender perfection, and the jasmine rice steamed curls of fragrance toward our noses. The udon broth--which I was damned sure would disappoint--had an umami depth that resonated beyond the bottom of the bowl. Between bowls, we cleared our palates with the shots of sweet-and-sour raw quail egg. Each iced shot slid smoothly down our throats, echoing richness and a sense of well-being. I was so happy. The in-laws (not being big sushi eaters) were so relieved.
  
  And the secret to the Hattoris' success? Besides being amazing (international, cosmopolitan) cooks (who decided to make Taos home), the Hattori's have a fish supplier who flash freezes fish seconds after they are caught. Can frozen fish be better than fresh fish? Yes. Resoundingly, yes. And Gin and Hiromi Hattori will prove it to you.
  
  After all the gluttony, the ten of us retreated to the porch swing to watch a soft rain descend upon Taos Mountain. As the wind sculptures around the restaurant whirled and glittered, the light of evening suffused us in a golden glow that cut into the rain and arced out a rainbow.
  
  No, seriously. I'm not embellishing. It was magical.
  
  Bottom Line: Five stars for the BEST SUSHI I'VE EVER HAD, across Japan and the US. How is it that New Mexico gets this honor? Irony of ironies.

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  Posted on 09.27.11 Emmeline S.

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