Despair doesn’t begin to describe the feeling one has when faced with the possibility that one has moved to a country that simply doesn’t enjoy fine sushi. By fine, I don’t mean anything particularly special — I mean only that the sushi must be of premium quality, made by itamae steeped in Japanese tradition, and presented with unflagging knife skills, in a manner that pleases the eye well before it satisfies the palate.
Kiwis in Auckland seem convinced that the epitome of sushi is rolls with salmon in it, or nigiri with salmon on it, or any roll with cooked fish or chicken in it. In short, mall food. It’s everywhere and is incredibly popular. Alas, it’s also disgusting, low-class garbage that no self-respecting sushi connoisseur would deign to eat.
Enter Cocoro. Located in fashionable Ponsonby, Cocoro is a restaurant I happened on while riding my bike down a nondescript side road. While it certainly doesn’t have the variety of fish one finds at Ebisu in San Francisco, it is the closest thing I’ve found so far to a top-notch Sushi restaurant.
