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Wasabi Teppanyaki Civic

Kirsten Lawson

Wasabi Restaurant's head chef Nigel Sato in action.
Wasabi Restaurant's head chef Nigel Sato in action.Melissa Adams

12/20

Japanese$$$

In the 15 years since I last ate teppanyaki, at a place in Dickson, I imagined the concept would have been refined a little - you know, centred on the extremely skilled handling of beautiful produce. But I discover while it is about extreme cooking, it's still the game-show sense of the word - food as entertainment.

As raw eggs fly through the air to be caught by diners with varying hand-eye co-ordination, as occasional bowls of rice don't make their intended landing and end up in someone's trouser lap, as pieces of omelet fall to the floor, I feel confused.

Isn't Japanese cuisine all about absolute respect for the finest of ingredients, and doesn't that sit oddly with throwing it around for fun? I'm not opposed to the fun and games, and the Japanese do have a knack for helping a party along with cheesy fun, but I'd be more inclined to join in with hearty applause if the food itself offered what you love most about this cuisine - pristine, unequalled quality.

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Inside Wasabi Restaurant.
Inside Wasabi Restaurant.Melissa Adams

We're at Wasabi, of which there are three in Canberra: in Dickson, Manuka and, most recently, in the Melbourne Building on the corner of Northbourne Avenue and Alinga Street in the city.

The space is small, with two teppanyaki bars, and tables for a-la-carte dining if the theatrics are not for you. In a nod to the culture, there's a samurai warrior, some bonsai and bamboo in this corner location, with floor to ceiling windows to the street. It could do with a little more privacy - when you're going to let your hair down for a party, it's good to be able to hide away a little.

The drinks list includes a range of premium sakes, which is good to see. While we wait for the show, we share a bowl of edamame - fresh green soy beans still in their pods, served warm and salty, a great snack, and a plate of sashimi - tuna, salmon and a white fish, plus prawns, which are OK, but there's nowhere to hide with raw fish, and on a Tuesday night in Canberra, well, restaurants offering sashimi are up against it trying to offer the ocean's best.

Our chef starts with flame and darned impressive juggling of his kitchen implements.
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Our chef starts with flame and darned impressive juggling of his kitchen implements - a bit of Jackie Chan action, as he puts it - again leaving me with a sense of cultural confusion, but geographic coherence, given Chan's links to Canberra. No clap, no food, he tells us. Then the eggs, which he flips from his spatula into bowls that we're supposed to use to catch them. He spins and catches his own eggs, too, in a bit of showmanship, even catching one in his hat. We do that OK, and think our part in the show is over. We are very wrong. The eggs, mostly broken, are passed back to the chef, who throws them all on the stainless steel grill and turns them into an omelet, which he chops with impressive speed - as well as more throwing-food-at-the-patrons fun - before incorporating it into fried rice.

Also into the rice goes chopped onion and vegies, and sauces from three squeezy bottles, only one of which appears to be soy. ''What's in the others?'' I ask. ''Coca-Cola, Sprite, Bacardi rum,'' he replies, since everything tonight is a joke, and despite my attempts to persist with this and other questions about the food, none are answered seriously. We get ''Nemo and Dory'' when we ask what the fish is, which the kids think hilarious, and which I forgive later when the chef tells us it is barramundi. A little more straight talking would be welcome: if you're going to watch, you might as well learn.

The fried rice is fine, just fried rice, as you know it well. One of the Cambodian men also at the teppanyaki table missed his bowl of fried rice when it came flying through the air, and it landed on his lap, but he took that in good spirits. I'm left hoping he has plenty of spare pants in his suitcase, and wondering whether you're excused if you're wearing silk, since my strenuous attempts to excuse myself on other grounds are ignored. I take the precaution of unfolding a serviette in my lap before my turn.

Wasabi plater.
Wasabi plater.Melissa Adams MLA

Next comes a pile of scallops placed neatly on the hotplate. They're likeable and appealingly hot with ginger. We get half a large Moreton Bag bug each, and while the meat is delicate, the dish is overtaken by sweet chilli sauce.

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The beef course is simple, just beef chopped and fast fried, seasoned and finished with a luxurious lump of butter. It is what it is: a simple pile of decent beef. A waiter has been quietly cleaning up around us as the food has landed, but we don't get clean plates, so by now, my plate is looking messy and getting a little confused with the flavours of the different courses.

But there's only one to go - the vegetable course, which is simple stir-fry. Then, with a flourish, the chef writes ''thank you'' in cursive script and upside down for him, which is a final phew-wee moment of awe before he departs, leaving us to a simple dessert of a scoop of ice-cream, some bean paste, a slice of apple and a slice of orange.

We have got into the groove. We like our chef, who waves a big goodbye as we leave, and at least one of the children with us think this is brilliant entertainment (even including a trick sauce bottle). Later, a 12-year-old acquaintance tells us Wasabi is all the rage for parties, and two of our children are now planning teppanyaki parties, which must be slightly expensive for the parents, and possibly irritating for other diners - but loads of fun, nevertheless. Tonight the produce let things down a little - not drastically, but with such simple preparation and light cooking, the ingredients need the wow factor of the showman action.

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