Jamon Sushi

Rating: 13.5/20

IT'S the idiosyncratic dining experiences that are often the best. If not the best, they've at least got a good shot at ranking among the most memorable. Jamon Sushi is nothing if not memorable. Whether it's among the best - well, it certainly has several claims to greatness, but the sum total of the experience will be an individual response to its singular repertoire, not all of which is about the food.

To get the most out of Jamon Sushi - it goes without saying - it is imperative that you like seafood. It is also necessary that you have an entire evening at your disposal, because a meal here is a painstaking affair that is likely to take many hours. It is very helpful if you are not looking forward to meat, or tempura, because neither is available. And it is rather important that you get along with owner and chef Charles Greenfield, who, to all intents and purposes, is Jamon Sushi, as there are a mere 14 seats and the only other staff member is a waitress who dispenses drinks and cleans away the plates.

A year or two ago he served a dish I haven't been able to get out of my head. It was, quite simply, an oyster on a slice of nashi pear. It's one of those dishes that resonates - like being inland on a hot day and having a cool whisper of the ocean flutter in your ear. Unfortunately it's not on tonight, because oysters aren't in season.

That's one of the things it's important to understand about Greenfield, a former jeweller who trained as a sushi chef in Kyoto and Tokyo. He doesn't compromise on the quality of the produce - a cliche, to be sure, but this is one of the rare instances in which it seems to be true. The wasabi is real wasabi root, not the dyed mustard found in most Japanese restaurants (and the grater, I can't help but add, is traditional sharkskin). The fish is wild, if possible, including the bluefin tuna he talks about with Captain Ahab-like zeal. And just as he is unimpeachable when it comes to produce, he is obdurate when it comes to customer relations.

Let's put this delicately. Greenfield has a reputation as a moody man; a maestro, some would have it, whose artistic temperament in the service of sushi and sashimi is akin to Michelangelo getting a bit short-tempered with his underlings when painting a particularly tricky bit of the Sistine Chapel.

Despite, or because of it, he has converted a devoted band of regulars into a small cult who have followed Jamon since it opened in 1996 in Prahran, moved to Richmond several years later, then popped up four years ago in this tiny glass-box shopfront just off the Toorak Road shopping drag. No offence to the citizens of postcode 3141 - some of my best friends are from South Yarra - but it's not the place where you'd imagine a bespoke sushi bar, much less one run by a man with a reputation as a moody maestro.

So this is how it works: you put yourself in a price bracket ("snack" is $35 a head; "regular" $75; "deluxe" $120 and "gourmet" $170). We opt for gourmet - of which, more later. There is no written menu as such, just a discussion of likes and dislikes. Then Greenfield gets to work, a theatrical sensibility in evidence as he lovingly unwraps sides of fish, pin-bones a piece of wild New Zealand king salmon and shows no mercy to a variety of mushrooms, all the while between offering dissertations on everything from sake to tuna pectorals.

Highlights of the sushi offerings include wild yellowtail kingfish sashimi; salmon and sea perch futomaki rolls; vinegared squid tentacles with black shredded seaweed.

Seared swordfish has a hint of pinkness, is the opposite of dry, and restores faith in this oft-abused creature. Cold brussels sprouts, halved and dotted with Japanese mustard mayonnaise and ponzu, almost defy the laws of nature in tasting good.

It's when Greenfield pulls out a fillet of the unfamiliar duckfish that it all goes a bit pear-shaped. My partner in sushi and in life volunteers the comment that it must be a large fish. By way of response we get hit by the full force of the Greenfield death stare.

Why? No idea. But it's the kind of look that could make empires crumble. Just when our retinas are in danger of burning away, he goes back to slicing the fish and embarks on a lecture about how the cheaper fish, such as duckfish, aren't necessarily of a lesser quality; they're just misunderstood. Fine. He cares. Let's move on.

But it's changed the tone of the evening. Perhaps we have less patience for the duckfish now, but it proves to be the evening's least memorable course; poached in an underseasoned broth with shiitake mushrooms and wakame seaweed. Giggling like naughty schoolchildren, we sneak soy sauce into the bowl when Greenfield isn't looking.
It proves easy to forgive, however, when the next course involves a spicy salad of shredded squid with two types of fish roe (salmon and flying fish), cradled in a leaf of witlof. The explosion of the bright orange eggs anchored by the crisp witlof reminds me of the oyster/pear combo of long ago. It's followed by dessert, which is a plate of nashi and peach slivers. It's all that's needed after the oily richness of the fish.

As we're paying it becomes apparent, however, that it's now time for round two of let's-bait-the-customer. "Don't you know what you want?" he asks my partner in a condescending tone. Pardon? "Don't you know what you want?" It turns out he's referring to the wine. Earlier, we double-checked with the waitress that she was opening the correct bottle of pinot instead of making a mistake that would cost us, or her, $150. For some bizarre reason it's been taken as an insult. We leave, bellies full of high-grade tuna and heads full of steam.

It's not the best end to the night.

There's a postscript to all of this. Despite ordering the gourmet selection, we appeared to go pretty much head-to-head with our neighbours, who asked for the deluxe treatment at $50 a head less. Greenfield is on the phone the next day, explaining that he needs prior notice to really do justice to the gourmet option. And that's fine. But still. It's on the menu, and we got stung for the full $170. That bit of overcharging aside, was our experience at Jamon Sushi worthy? I'm still figuring that one out. Was it memorable? Oh yes. We won't be forgetting it for a long time.

Score: 1-9: Unacceptable. 10-11: Just OK, some shortcomings. 12: Fair. 13: Getting there. 14: Recommended. 15: Good. 16: Really good. 17: Truly excellent. 18: Outstanding. 19-20: Approaching perfection, Victoria's best.