Takoyaki is the true food of the gods. The Osaka street food speciality is the perfect blend of hot goo, chewy meat and savoury sauce. I have had the finest, freshest takoyaki in central Kyoto during Hanami and the very worst over-fried, frozen disgraces from central Milton Keynes (for shame).
Takosama Takoyaki (6 P. Nhà Chung, Hàng Trống, Hoàn Kiếm, Hà Nội). It’s a daunting task, serving up such a uniquely Japanese dish, the art of folding the balls in the concave pan a true craft (check it out online, looks easy but it’s nails). The prep counter was well organised so kudos for that. The batter was good, perfect consistency with a chewy exterior and a generally pleasing shape. The octopus within was generous, chewy little nuggets of aquatic joy. The sauces were authentic and applied with exacting precision.
BUT (and it’s a very big but)…
See those flakes on top? That’s katsuobushi, shavings of dried bonito fish. It’s what elevates takoyaki from dough balls ‘n’ sauce to food of kings. The katsuobushi was there, albeit in somewhat oversized, chunky shavings, but the takoyaki themselves were warm, instead of hot. Proper takoyaki should be served so hot it blanches the roof of your mouth with every bite, yet you cannot wait, so you continue in excruciating bliss, steam pouring from your mouth like a mildly miffed volcano. When served at this frankly obscene temperature, the shaved flakes dance seductively, shimmering sprites, as the heat emanates upwards.
That is the mark of good takoyaki. This fell short of the mark by a fair few degrees C.
So, in summary, so very, very close to perfection, a solid 9/10. Next time I will specify freshness, the desire for masochism in dining form. I am already salivating at the thought. And the hangover is gone. It’s a miracle.
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Max Lawrence Writes 