For lo these many moons, the ramshackle old building at 41 Main Street in Tiburon has stood dark and seemingly empty, like a lone reminder of the tony tourist town's days as a railroad terminus with a string of derelict waterfront taverns on its main thoroughfare. In March, after a spiffy remodel that retains a whisper of the edifice's original atmospheric charm while emphatically bringing it into alignment with Tiburon's current affluence, Ginza Sushi opened its heavy wood and glass doors.For a new restaurant, Ginza already has a kind of lived-in feeling. It's not that the dark woodwork or granite-topped tables and sushi bar aren't beautifully designed; maybe it's the combination of typical sushi bar décor with the very casual attitudes of the young staff, or perhaps it's the TVs in the dining room and restrooms.
All of this is moot, though, once you take in the view of the Corinthian Yacht Club Harbor, with its rows of sparkling white hulls and swaying masts, and the city washed in evening light across the bay. A wall of sliding doors opens out onto a deck, where tables are expected to appear in the near future. (That will be fun!) The view is so mesmerizing that it's hard not to want to be out basking in it. Until service begins outdoors, do ask for a window table. It's worth the wait.
Ginza's beverage list is surprisingly minimal. There's a house sake ($8 for a small carafe and $12 for a large), and three premium sakes ($13-$20 for a glass, $75-$120 for a bottle). There are five white wines, all served by the glass or bottle, and two reds, ditto. Asahi and Sapporo beers are also served, and plum wine and sake coolers round out the list. Corkage is $15.
A narrow, hinged, black wooden menu opens to reveal the choices, all of which are served on sleek, variously shaped plates and bowls of black or white pottery. However, presentations varied wildly in sophistication.
Many years ago, when the sushi tsunami first swept across the U.S., I remember reading that sushi chefs were required to study for five to seven years with an exacting master chef to perfect their aesthetic sensibilities and lightning quick knife skills. But in the '90s, I spied a young man I had known as an ESL student wielding his knife at a local sushi bar. When I asked him where he had studied sushi making, he shrugged and said, "I'm Japanese!" The sushi at Ginza appears to have the latter, more offhand approach.
From the salad list we chose Wakame Salad ($8) and Sashimi Salad ($10). The seaweed salad included a mound of the familiar translucent green fronds, topped with a sheaf of enoki and shimeji mushrooms and sprinkled with flying fish roe. I liked the combination, but too much of a sweet dressing rendered it wet and a little bit cloying. The sashimi, served on a bed of baby greens, included chewy slices of shiitake among rough-cut chunks of tuna and yellowtail, topped with another sweet dressing with the bite of horseradish oil. I wondered how different this salad would have tasted had the chef devoted more thought to the slicing of the fish. The presentation seemed haphazard.
We ordered bowls of miso soup ($4), made with grainy brown miso, with floating bits of tofu, scallion and wakame. I liked the substitution of the more rustic miso, but the soup was too strong and salty. I thinned mine with water, which cooled it but made it taste less strong. ^nFrom the list of house specials, we ordered Tai Tataki ($15), described as red snapper seared with hot olive oil and topped with radish, onion, scallion and fish roe, with garlic citrus soy sauce. I wasn't sure then, but think now that we were served a different dish entirely, Ajishio Hamachi ($14), which involved raw sliced yellowtail sprinkled with thin-sliced jalape–o, cilantro and salmon roe, with lime juice, salt and black pepper. The fact that I couldn't tell for sure whether the chef had mistakenly sprinkled jalape–os on the grilled snapper or served us raw hamachi highlights an overall problem with Ginza's food preparation. Because the palate of ingredients in Japanese food is limited, a chef has to use judicious seasoning in individual dishes so that they will complement one another. If he uses too many ingredients in each, everything begins to taste very much the same.
I once heard that in Japan, sushi bars are judged by their Tamago (egg custard) rolls. Ginza's ($4) are very bright yellow, and shaped in two loaves around the rice more in a bun shape than a traditional nigiri sushi. We thought the custard dry, but it tasted good. Maguro and Hamachi (each $6) were translucently fresh, glistening, traditional nigiri sushi.
Our order of the thin rolled Shiitake Maki ($5) seemed to bring a different response from each of us. My bites of the small, pristine seaweed roll tasted simply of grilled mushroom. But another diner exclaimed about the strong garlic flavor, which I had not noticed at all, leading me to think that it was not evenly distributed throughout the roll. A salmon skin roll ($7) advertised as crispy was instead pale and a little soggy. But a California roll ($7) with fresh snow crab shone.
I ordered the Dragon roll ($15), an extravagant concoction of shrimp tempura, cucumber, snow crab, eel, avocado, burdock, radish sprouts and flying fish roe. It arrived looking indeed like a colorful dragon winding its way along the plate, and was very rich and multi-layered. But since I had ordered it to have just a taste of tempura, I was disappointed that the shrimp had no crunch.
We're fools for dessert in general, and fools for mochi ice cream ($6) in particular. Ginza serves theirs in a trio, and you can choose three flavors among mango, green tea, mocha and strawberry. We eschewed the berry. Our favorite was the mocha, which tasted much more of coffee than chocolate. But the green tea and mango did not disappoint.
In spite of the fact that some of Ginza's sushi preparations do not stand up to the quality of other Marin establishments, the experience of dining there is pleasantly low-key for a waterfront restaurant. Prices for some dishes are high, but the simpler rolls are more reasonable, and come across well. And of course, there's that soothing view. With a little bit of tightening and attention to detail, Ginza's food could shine.
