Kanji
Words by Jeff Simpson / Photos by Tori Beechum
For nearly 40 years, the landlocked metropolis of Oklahoma City has functioned as a sort of unexpected sushi haven of the southern plains. Tokyo Japanese Restaurant, the quiet O.G. spot of Nichols Hills, opened its doors in 1987, blending modern sushi with traditional Japanese entrées. A decade later, Western Concepts opened the fun and lively Sushi Neko aimed at serving extravagant, modern rolls with American fare crossovers (The Neko Fries are a must), and the southside’s Sushi Hayashi became a favorite of local chefs. In the last few years, the city has experienced a sudden bloom of new concepts such as AKAI, Awaji, and Takaramono, each offering its signature take on Japanese-style cuisine.
The latest restaurant to enter this arena is Kanji. Chef Midian Pratama, along with his business partner Sonny Choy, renovated the old Rice N Buns spot on Pennsylvania avenue, just north of the turnpike. The decor—blackout curtains on the windows, sparse wood and concrete accents adorning the walls, floor, and furniture—gives the feel of a hidden sushi bar tucked away off some side street in a neon-lit city. Pratama, who has been steeped in Japanese cuisine for the last 18 years and worked in high-end and Michelin-starred kitchens from Miami to Napa Valley, says cooking runs deep in his veins. “I always helped my grandma and my mom cook when I was younger,” he says. “I tried to go to culinary school, but I only went for a year because I didn’t like going. I switched majors, but I never stopped cooking or learning.”
While Pratama has worked with all styles of sushi, he favors the traditional side. Perhaps here is as good a place as any to briefly explain the differences between “traditional” and “modern” forms of sushi: Unearthing a true distinction is problematic, but the general consensus is that “traditional” sushi favors simplicity and purity, focusing on high-quality fish (tuna, yellowtail, salmon, etc.) and specialized rice, usually wrapped in seaweed (nori). You’ll see basic condiments like wasabi and soy sauce, used sparingly. It’s the minimalist, less-is-more ethos that seeks the inherent, natural flavors of the sea. Picture nigiri (rice topped with fish), maki (rolled sushi with seaweed on the outside), or sashimi (sliced raw fish) presented as simply and elegantly as possible.
“Modern” sushi, most often found in Western countries—hence the California roll—is more flamboyant, more glam-rock in its love for a large canvas of flavors and ingredients. Uramaki, or inside-out rolls where the rice is on the outside, showcase bold, diverse flavors. You’ll see everything from avocado and cream cheese to fried shrimp glazed in spicy mayo sauce. These rolls are typically big, rich, fatty, sweet, and visually complex. Imagine that signature roll at your favorite spot that’s wildly flavorful and plated as an Instagram-worthy piece of modern art.
There’s no wrong way to eat sushi, no style that’s sacrilege, but in terms of market share Americans consume much more “modern” sushi than “traditional.” With Kanji, Pratama not only focuses on traditional sushi; he’s centered the dining experience around the craft and custom of omakase. The word omakase means “I leave it up to you.” It’s what seasoned or trusting customers say when taking a seat at the bar, announcing their willingness to be guided by the chef’s choice for every course. In the past, it was common for sushi bars in Japan to shun printed menus altogether—the idea being that guests invited, or perhaps challenged, the chef to show off both his cooking skills and ability to procure the highest-quality, freshest ingredients. “We’re taking a risk trying to introduce omakase in Oklahoma City,” Pratama says. “At first we only served omakase two days a week, but soon we are switching, fully, to omakase. There are not many restaurants doing this at the moment.”
While this casual phrase sounds so simple, the practice is anything but. It’s not enough to procure great ingredients, though that’s a huge part—and Pratama painstakingly sources fish directly from Tokyo’s Toyosu market, one of the largest and most revered fish markets in the world. “I’m very picky with fish,” he chuckles. Once the fish arrives, the real work begins. Depending on the species of the fish, how fatty the cuts, Pratama decides if he’ll do dry aging or wet aging. For fish with a high fat content, like toro (a fatty tuna cut), he typically dry ages it for three days. Dry aging reduces the water content and reveals more of the flavor’s essence, or as Pratama says, “the character of the fish itself.”
Kanji refers to the logographic characters of Japanese writing, but Pratama told me kanji itself means “sensation.” His goal is to create sensation by meticulously attending to every detail. Pratama makes his own soy sauce from an imported base aged at least two years. He sources Hawaiian ginger, only when it is in season, and pickles it in-house for six months. He will serve nigiri using a special, short-gained rice called hikari sourced from the Hokkaido prefecture, with freshly graded wasabi to create an exacting rush of herbaceous heat.
The menu changes often, sometimes weekly, depending on what items become available for import. Casually served as an interstitial course between exotic delicacies like amberjack (kanpachi) and firefly squid (hotaru ika), I was served a Japanese spot prawn renowned by chefs for its delicate, sweet flavor. This particular prawn, if wild caught, is heavily regulated by the Japanese government to maintain sustainable populations. A rare find—it’s never yet returned to the menu.
Like the child helping his grandmother cook or the student that can’t stand culinary school but feels drawn to the kitchen, Pratama is still pushing himself to sharpen his skills and learn new tricks. Over the summer, he took a working sabbatical in Nashville cooking alongside mentors to find new flavors and new sensations to bring back to Kanji. Whether it’s his own quest to test and refine his skills or the care he takes with every single guest, he’s very clear about the reason: “Everything is about connection.”
Kanji, 14600 N. Pennsylvania Ave., Oklahoma City, (405) 493-9471, kanjiokc.com, @kanjiokc
