How I've bemoaned the relative absence of top-tier sushi in this city. I don't mean to over-generalize, since Sabu and Kyoto are distinct exceptions to this broad-stroke statement, but I've had some pretty disappointing experiences. The worst, in a nutshell, involved the waitress losing our order several times and bringing us fish that (a) was not especially fresh and (b) looked like it was sliced by knife-wielding baboon with anger issues. The deep-fried rolls were a hefty rub of salt in the ol' wounds. They were so excessively doused in mayo that no other flavour was apparent. Three strikes and you're out.
I'd yet to visit Mikado until an invitation from baconophile ZoomJer drew me downtown. The rumour mill suggested the existence of a mysterious (and delicious) Jerry Roll and showcased bacon (as if there were ever any doubt).
Bacon, kiwi, mango, avocado, crab, cuke and fish roe? How could I go wrong? I waited in mild agony as platter after platter emerged from the lively kitchen and traveled to private booths where no shoes are permitted.
The Jerry Roll emerged on a sleek white platter like a boatload of Carmen Miranda-esque celebrities wearing fruity headgear. Though a bit unwieldy to manage with slender chopsticks, each slice was a rave party of decidedly smoky bacon and sunny tropical fruits. The fish roe popped with piscine salinity. The crab and rice deferred attention to the aforementioned ingredients, like backup dancers are content to pop and lock while the main act hams it up for the spotlight.
I must profess that I'm basing my opinion of Mikado on one roll. But what a roll. Roll call of awesome.