Outside Blue Ribbon
The year was 1995.
Clueless, Babe and Dangerous Minds lit theatres on fire. Waterworld and Judge Dredd lit money on fire. Quebec tried to leave and Real McCoy seemed like they never would. The internet was nowhere, Pogs were everywhere and Major League Baseball was somewhere, finally.
And – most importantly for this non-sequitur – a spot called Blue Ribbon Sushi opened on Sullivan Street in SoHo. The sushiya was a partnership between the Brombergs, who opened Blue Ribbon Brasserie in 1992, and Toshi Ueki. Toshi-san passed away in 2018, and I encourage you to read his obituary here.
Inside Blue Ribbon
This was a big deal
Yes, there was Nobu, but for lower Manhattan sushi fiends, Blue Ribbon Sushi will always be special. Just two years after opening, lines stretched down the block, according to Ruth Reichl, the iconic New York Times food critic. Fun fact about Reichl – she apparently loved to wear disguises at restaurants, ostensibly to keep her experience authentic. Today’s reviewers – let’s call them ‘influencers’ – have a different approach. Instead of hiding their arrival, they advertise it. Direct message for free food in advance, floodlights and tripods day of. Some of us try to keep Reichl’s vision alive, despite the best efforts of a certain food writer (you know who you are).
Back to Blue Ribbon
This 30th anniversary video tells the story well, especially for those of you – not me, never me – suckers for nostalgia.
Blue Ribbon Sushi was also the site of my first date with Mrs TSL. It was supposed to be Neta – RIP – but Laguardia was on fire, as it so often was back then.
We recently returned after many years.
Turns out Bruce Bromberg was right about something
“Feels the same, looks the same, maybe a little aged here and there.”
A little? Brother, I’m a little aged. There’s grey in my beard and I just spent 45 minutes researching the name of Francis Ellis’ hair transplant surgeon.
Blue Ribbon Sushi is a lot aged. It shows up in the decor, like Brice insinuated, but it also shows up in the rice.
Take the Sushi Deluxe ($45)
The ten nigiri and half-maki on the geta – that’s the word for those wooden platters with ‘feet’ that serves sushi, so-named for the wooden sandals – looked good enough, despite the albacore. Fun fact – albacore is banned on this website. I don’t make the rules (actually, I do, but work with me here).
But it was the lack of Komezu – the rice vinegar often preferred at shops like Blue Ribbon – that caught my attention.
It didn’t help that this shari had the consistency of sandpaper; in fairness, Blue Ribbon is an all day – and night – sushiya, so we may have been At Batches End. That said, while texture and moisture degrade over time, flavour shouldn’t, though I’m sure some sushi scientist is already typing the “well, actually...” email.
LtR from back: O Toro, Akami, Kinme, Salmon, Madai,Sayori (middle, extra), Albacore, hotategai, ebi, unagi
But really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Great shari requires great technique. It’s why I sit behind a keyboard, rather than stand behind a counter. After 30 years, staff turns over, management loses focus – Blue Ribbon Sushi currently has 16 locations – and good technique gets lost to the sands of time. I’d love to use Mark Cuban’s “pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered” line, but Mark’s underlying point on that quote aged as badly as Blue Ribbon’s shari. Mark, return my emails and we’ll call it even.
Oyakdon ($32)
The uneven shari is noticeable by comparison to the rice in the oyakodon, sake (salmon), ikura (salmon roe) layered on rice. Typically, donburi will use plain white rice (chirashi uses vinegared sushi rice – shari). I shit you not, this rice was better. Noticeably. Problem.
Ebi Tempura Maki ($18.50)
Mrs TSL loves her dragon/spider/etc makizushi, and admittedly, Blue Ribbon still does this very well. Even distribution of ingredients, well-presented, no bizarre sauces.
Same goes for the Spicy Tuna Crispy Rice ($27)
Apparently it’s good. Personally, I’ve been boycotting fried sushi rice since Green Tea Sushi in London, ON went out of business. A respect thing.
And that was it for food, though not for our evening.
The credit card machine didn’t work, so off we went to the terminal. Who really cares, other than a hacky blogger searching for a symbol of a sushiya’s fraying edges.
Look, I have immense respect for the place that Blue Ribbon holds in New York City sushi lore. It still has a soul, more than can be said for some of the odes to sushi capitalism that have sprung up this decade.
But like the credit card machine and the rice and the decor and the back room, everything just feels off. Bromberg said it best. It’s aged. Like a band that peaked in 1995 and still tours, still plays the hits, still can hit the notes. Sort of.
Speaking of Real McCoy…
Not Recommended.
