Akase Japanese fusion

We’ve been meaning to come to Akase since we arrived in Jerez more than a year ago, but at the pricier end of the restaurant spectrum it has languished on our list of ‘special treat only’ destinations.

It’s been a long couple of months, what with moving from our old apartment 290 metres yonder to our new place in bustling Calle Porvera. I know it’s 290 metres because our moving process involved me, Jess, a bright-orange trolley and two bungee straps – with my own spine and knees completing the equipment ensemble when it came to objects too large for the trolley – and I now know every cobblestone, slippery marble inlay, and dog poop in the area.

So after around 50 trips totalling 29 kilometres (not counting the weaving around old ladies who don’t get out of the way no matter what you’re carrying) we figured we deserved a trip to Akase.

It’s zambomba season in Jerez and everyone is out on the street partying, which means that many of the fancy restaurants are quiet. This suits us just fine. It meant that we had virtually the entire attention span of our server Alex and the chef as they prepared and dished up about 10 mini courses with delightful timing, one by one.

I haven’t blogged much about individual bars and restaurants since we’ve been in Spain, mainly because it’s not really fair to single them out. There are so many terrific eateries, from cheap and cheerful to high end, that I figure my huge list of favourites will satisfy the culinarily interested without going into too much detail.

But this place rates a special mention because of its remarkable deviation from the normal Spanish style. In terms of fusion food it leans so far towards Japanese cuisine that the Spanish elements are hard to spot – until you taste.

Indeed, six of the ten-or-more dishes of the fixed menu were literally nigiri sushi, at least in form. Perfect portions of piscine pleasantness perched upon a petite pillow of … um … rice. These guys don’t profess to be sushi masters, of course. If you’ve been to Japan you’d see these nigiri as what they’re meant to be – Japanese inspired, not the same thing as you’d get in an izakaya in Shibuya. But that’s not the point. They’ve used the nigiri style to deliver the very essence of Spanish seafood in a single bite.

(Regrettably, I took only a single photo of a nigiri (the first one). The other shots are to demonstrate the chef’s creative range.)

Each nigiri comprised a different fish, from borriquete to dentón to salmonetes, in a kind of fishy tour of the region’s coastline. For us it was the best demonstration yet of not only the superbivity of Spanish seafood range, but also just how different each of the fish tastes. It’s wild. Uniquely and unapologetically un-Japanese. Proudly Andalucían.

It’s not just a nigiri fest, of course. The photos show a few of the other bites, from a single Sanlúcar prawn (raw, sweet, melt in the mouth) to a sashimi squid in a fermented blackcurrant sauce. In case both of your socks hadn’t already been knocked off by dessert time, along came a dish of – get this – ice cream served with salmon roe (the final photo above). Second dessert was a miso and black olive concoction designed to send you home with your tastebuds singing, which makes the loss of your socks far more bearable.

Alex knew his wine, too. He took us all the way through from a dry white to an amontillado sherry that just made everything better – and he did it in English. Bloody showoff.