Before refrigeration, Edomae sushi was preservation: fish cured, marinated, simmered, and pressed so it could be eaten safely from a street stall. Bentenyama Miyakozushi has been serving that original canon since 1866, in the lineage of Hanaya Yohei (the man credited with inventing nigiri itself) beside the temple bell tower where it first opened. The fifth master, a historian of sushi, puts it with a grin: "Raw is the fashion now. Our sushi is out of date." The sixth (his top apprentice, not his blood) keeps it that way, deliberately.
What you eat
Vinegar-cured kohada, tuna steeped in soy, conger eel simmered and lacquered with a tare handed down for generations, boiled clam, squid cooked the old way, an omelet folded with shrimp paste. Courses arrive a few pieces at a time on wooden geta stands. The manga Oishinbo — Japan's great food comic — made the fifth master a recurring character; its author is said to head here straight from the airport.
The Noren View
Everyone eats "fresh" sushi in Tokyo. Almost no one eats Edo sushi — the version with two centuries of technique instead of a walk-in fridge. Doing it two minutes from Sensō-ji, at a sixteen-seat family room with a Sunday afternoon service, makes this the easiest profound meal in Asakusa.
Who it's for
Sushi eaters ready for the historical deep cut; Asakusa sightseers who want the temple, the bell tower, and the cuisine born beside them in a single afternoon.
