The Best Japanese Restaurant in Portland, Oregon

Of all the many, many Japanese restaurants that I have had the pleasure of patronizing, my paramount recommendation would have to go to a fantabulous creative endeavor that was opened in the city of Portland, Oregon, just 2 months ago. The name of this well kept little secret of a culinary monument is "Reb Moishe Yamakanahorowitz's Sushi Shtettle and House of Flega. Reb Moishe-son, as the proprietor likes to be referred to, is nothing short of a visionary having opened the first Kosher Sushi bar in the United States and, he believes, the entire world.

When you first walk into the "shtettle", you are immediately taken by the cornucopia of divergent ethnic aromas that introduce themselves with a firm, "Shalom, ve Konichiwa!"

First you smell the Schmaltz (chicken fat used if traditional Jewish dishes), then you smell the Lox, then you smell the Matzoh Ball soup, then you smell the brisket, then you smell the lox again, then you smell the latkes (potato pancakes) then you smell Reb Moishe-son, then, there is the lox again. Then, Wham! When you least expect it, from out of nowhere comes little old Mrs. Yamakanahorowitz like she has schpilkes in her ganektagazoink, and she slams a plate of pickled herring smothered in sour crème in front of your sheina puna (adorable face). It looks like she might sit down with you at your table, but instead she cups your face in her hands and begs you to tell her why it has taken you so long to make a visit. Before you get a chance to answer she sighs and says, "So, this is how you choose to kill me," and she hobbles away sobbing like the mother you never call.

I decided to order some wine after this happened to me on my first visit. I asked Reb Yamakanahorowitz to send me over his best wine. A few minutes later, a beautiful Jewpanes, or Japanews, or, well, she was half Japanese and half Jewish, and beautiful as I said. This beautiful young girl comes to the table and, with a voice that could cut glass and crack diamonds, she starts whining, "What do you want already? I wanna get out of here sometime before Pesach (Passover) you yutz!"

Reb Moishe-son has two distinct features that make him quite a sight to behold. First he wears the thickest coke bottle glasses you have ever seen. Second, rather than wearing the traditional yamulka (skull cap) that is worn by orthodox Jews, he instead wears a Yamaha mini-bike. His wife Saratamaguchi follows him around most of the time trying to keep the thing from falling off. She is the most homely woman you will ever see. She doesn't use her hands to hold the bike upon Reb Moishe-son's head. She simply nags it not to fall off. Reb Moishe-son will often joke that with the way he sees, and the way she looks, their marriage is a perfect match.

When the mix-up happened with the wine, I asked Reb Moishe-son for his sushi menu.

"What menu?" He asked me abruptly.

"We have lox and we have herring. How would you like it?"

The friend that I had come with said, "This is ridiculous! I'd like some raw eel on sticky rice!"

At that moment, Reb Moishe-son grasped at his chest, and before we knew what hit us, there was little old Mrs. Yamakanahorowitz, Reb Moishe-son's mother screaming at us, "How could you?! You should get cancer for even thinking such thoughts!"

Then, she spit through her boney little old fingers three times and pleaded, "May the evil eye not here such a thing and come to us inflicting boils like Job and cousin Mordechiawasaki after that weekend he spent with that geisha.

I have been to this restaurant three times and never really had the pleasure of tasting any food whatsoever. I just end up bickering and getting castigated by Reb Moishe-son and his family. I usually feel so guilty by the time I leave I'm not hungry at all. On the other hand, I'm sure that I could go there for a fine kosher Japanese style feast seven days per week and never gain an ounce.