In Japan, diners won't find many restaurants serving the typical American gambit of Japanese ramen, udon, sashimi, sukiyaki and more in a one-stop slop shop.  In the Land of the Rising Sun they specialize.  A chef forgoes the Jack-san-of-all-trades approach and instead becomes a master of a particular dish - waxing on and off until he finds perfection in his craft, as well as fame and, maybe, the chance to star as a main character in a manga series.

It's all very elitist, really, expecting people to choose one dish over another, forcing everyone in the dinner party to order the same basic type of meal - even pizza parlors here in the States serve Buffalo wings.  Still, the idea that a place might offer the best of one thing and one thing only, is intriguing.

Speaking of tempura

I could get behind a tempura-only restaurant.  I love a good tempura, especially the zucchini, prawns, broccoli and peppers, wrapped in a heavenly blanket of batter - crisp and flaky.  A great snack or appetizer, late at night with chilled sake, tempura is one of life's little pleasures.  Side note: I don't, however, like the tempura potatoes (those need butter and sour cream), and of course, the onion ring always throws me for a loop because it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, but it's more like a Peking duck than a gaijin onion ring.  OK, Peking duck is Chinese, not Japanese. I get it. But guess what ... neither is tempura.

You're joking

Tempura is Portuguese.  It arrived miraculously on the shores of Southern Japan during a time (the 16th Century) when visiting or escaping Japan was asking for a royal pain in the neck (also known as a karate chop with a Samurai sword).  Somehow those sneaky Portuguese smuggled in their deep fat fryers and set up shop next to the Ginzu knife salesmen, and ever since the Japanese have fried their vegetables to perfection.

And I mean perfection ... except here in the United States where good tempura in restaurants is as hit and miss as the brakes on a Prius.

Good tempura is silky and flaky and complements the vegetables and prawns.  Bad tempura needs a mint chaser.  But don't take my word for it. Here's what Tempura-Sensei (my title) Shizuo Tsuji, who wrote Japanese Cooking: A Simple Art, said: "With tempura, the goal is to achieve a lacy, golden effect with the deep-fried coating, not a thick, armor-like pancake casing." 

Tempura should be light and fresh, never overpowering the main ingredient.  It should not have a rancid oily taste, nor should your tempura cause your chopsticks to slip out of your hands.

Can you recommend a place?

I'll name two excellent tempura spots that are practically side by side in Lakewood's international district: Kinja Japanese Restaurant and Kyoto Japanese Restaurant.  Neither specialize solely in tempura, but they turn out classic fried goodies superior to the local teriyaki houses. 

Kinja prepares a great spread, offering up little dishes of appetizers to complement the tempura.  The vegetables are well-prepared and crisp, with a flaky casing.

Kyoto rises slightly above Kinja, just edging it out like one superior Japanese student over another, both vying for a place in an elite high school. 

Kyoto's tempura flakes slightly better - the shrimp just a little longer and thinner, like a supermodel.  The surroundings are also just a tad nicer, with more screened rooms and a more attentive staff.

One of these days we may even see the folks at Kyoto featured in their own Manga series: Tempura Tempest - the story of love and espionage as the Kyoto chefs defend their secret tempura recipe from the evil folks at the national tempura chain.  In a seven-book sequel series, Kyoto accomplishes their mission and puts Lakewood dining on the map.

Yes, it's that good.

Kinja

8602 S. Tacoma Way, Tacoma
253.589.0656  

Kyoto

8722 S. Tacoma Way, Tacoma
253.581.7229