``Wait,'' said my friend, a New York sushi maven, sensing the moment of truth upon us, ``let me get my chopsticks.''
He dug into his bag and - like a pool shark - withdrew a fine cloth case containing his precious utensils, each inlaid with ebony and rosewood. Obnoxious? Yes, even he would admit it. But Naga's flashing knife was about to produce us a meal worthy of chopsticks made of gold.
A pale himo ribbon, shaved from the rim of a scallop, curled in a mild vinegar broth that heightened its delicate crunch. Buttery slices of luscious toro tuna were drizzled in honeylike nuta, a creamy sauce of sweet miso so subtle, a gentle dusting of sesame added yet another dimension. Fluke was sliced into downy flakes that made eating them a sensation. Broiled in another appetizer on a scallop shell lined with a shiso perilla leaf, the fluke took on a whiff of the herb's minty essence. A dragon roll maki, wrapping sweet fillets of broiled eel around rice, crab stick and creamy avocado, was an artfully impressive finale.
While this recently opened sushi boutique is still working out kinks in service (nobody there seemed to really know much about the widely advertised selection of sake wines), Genji's adventure in the Ritz was easily the closest I'd come yet to sushi nirvana in Philadelphia.
It certainly makes for an intriguing contrast with Genji's rapid and recent expansion into supermarket outlets such as Fresh Fields, where overly soft sweet rice, long refrigeration, and sloppier craftsmanship make for a less impressive, albeit more convenient experience.
But amid all this entrepreneurial activity (Genji owner Hideo Omori has plans for five more supermarket outlets to open within the year), where does that leave the flagship restaurant, Genji II, in Center City?
