Let me just start this off by saying that ICHI Kakiya uses shredded crabmeat as if it were a condiment. If that intrigues you, then you'll probably like the rest of this.
With that said, Tim and Erin Archuleta's follow-up to the nearby ICHI Sushi + NI Bar is a smash. Located where the original ICHI Sushi was, it's got the same bold, close-up-fingerprint-whorl walls as its sister restaurant, only here they're blue-and-yellow instead of black-and-white. (They're meant to evoke ama, the Japanese women who dive for pearls without air tanks.) ICHI Kakiya is pared-down, omitting fish almost entirely to focus on crustaceans.
And you kinda-sorta have to start with oysters. The East Points were especially clean, but you can never go wrong with fluted Fanny Bays, which could well be the Official Bivalve Mollusk of British Columbia, if not the brand ambassador for all of Cascadia. Get the cocktail made with rice and barley soju, shiso syrup, two dashes of Meyer lemon juice, and a Meyer lemon twist, go to town on a dozen or more, and be generous to yourself with the ponzu.
Elsewhere on the raw menu, the Hokkaido scallop and its milky texture tasted almost like tuna in spite of not being fatty in the least, and had that enchanting forest-floor note that these unremarkable little sea blobs can somehow produce. However, the real scallop sensation is the other one, the one with kombu pickle puree and house-cured salmon roe that gets wrapped up in nori like a wee little taco. It completely floored me on both visits, the little starbursts of salty roe elevating the meaty scallop while the nori just melted in my mouth.
As is so often the case, sometimes the best things are off-menu. A "secret" Alaskan uni special made with yuba, shiso, and roe — plus tofu noodles that looked like tagliatelle — was by far the most decadent dish at a restaurant that's otherwise characterized by clean flavors. (Alaskan uni is prized because the especially cold water helps those urchin gonads grow; hilariously, Tim Archuleta once confessed to The Bold Italic that he hated uni the first nine times he tried it.)
The potato salad, like a combination of the German version of the dish and mashed potatoes made with thinly sliced cucumbers and pickled carrots, looked different from every other item. It's a big old scoop of comfort food, which made for a nice break. Surprisingly, on the lobster-crab roll, the bun was everything (in a good way). Here the roe is comparatively tiny, and the bonito flakes and sliced avocado are just marvelous. Paired with the toasty brioche notes and near-imperceptible bubbles of a Cattin Brut Chardonnay, it might sound like an unorthodox main — more lunch than dinner, really — but it worked.
Because we deliberated openly about ordering more once the last of our courses had been served, and because I have no sales resistance whatsoever, we easily got talked into finishing off with kabocha soup. The fog had swept in by that point, so it seemed almost logical to eat backwards like that. A smooth squash puree with dashi adding a smoky, bacon note, it was lovely on its own but became truly outstanding with the addition of some shredded crab. (Again: a condiment.) It's one of those things that makes you mad at yourself for almost skipping.
ICHI Kakiya's prep area is no-fuss, no-muss, with a big clear Lexan full of fresh seafood on ice. Because it's just Tim Archuleta and his assistant in full view, it's hard even to call it a kitchen or even a "line." The pair works almost silently, stopping every so often to squirt a little yuzu juice into a can of Tecate, and with the occasional break in concentration to make chit-chat with whoever might be sitting at the counter. Chef banter is almost as good as rock star banter, so my boyfriend got to hear all about a dream Archuleta had about purgatory (as well as beverage director Shasta Olarte's charming wine excursion to Santorini). Given that it's a 21-seat establishment, and workers outnumbered patrons most of the time I was there, everyone should welcome the chance to schmooze with a chef of this caliber — especially when he asks after your cocktail, inserting a shiso leaf in there to make it really hum.
However, this is still haute Japanese-influenced food, and we live in the Land of the Free, Home of the Whopper. The worst part about ICHI Kakiya is that, after being presented with a parade of delicates and no dessert menu (cause there ain't none), the mind involuntarily plots a course homeward that passes by a taqueria. I wouldn't say we left hungry, but ounce for ounce, this is not the most affordable dinner for the 99 percent. I would strongly recommend hitting happy hour (Mondays through Saturdays, 5:30-7 p.m., same as ICHI Sushi) to fill up a bit on dollar oysters before looking to the rest of the menu to quell those hunger pangs. After all, "dollar oysters" is the best word pair in the English language after "free beer," and ranks just above "secret uni."
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