By Tanaka Ichiro ( Sashimi Chef ) Guest Post
Watashi wa Tanaka Ichiro desu. I am Tanaka Ichiro, the owner of a small sashimi bar in Osaka. I am now 72 years old. For more than 60 years, I have worked with fish, especially Maguro — the noble tuna. Today, I will share my life, my thoughts, and my way of preparing Maguro sashimi. I will speak in simple words, like I would to a young apprentice in my kitchen.
My Life With Sashimi
I was born in 1953, in Osaka, near the sea. My family was not rich. My father ran a small fish shop and sashimi bar. It was not fancy — only six seats and a wooden counter. But it was full of life, full of the smell of soy sauce, vinegar, and the sea.
When I was 9 years old, I started helping my father. Not by cutting fish. No, first I cleaned the floor, washed rice, and wiped knives. He told me, “If you cannot respect the knife, you cannot hold it.” That was my first lesson.
Every morning, before the sun rose, we went to the 市場 (ichiba – fish market). My father walked slowly, but his eyes moved fast. He touched the fish gently, like checking the heartbeat. He would lift a Maguro by the tail, smell near the gills, press the flesh. Then he would say, “This one has a story.” At the time, I did not understand what he meant.
By the time I was 12, he let me hold the Yanagiba, the sashimi knife. I was nervous. The blade looked long and cold, like a quiet samurai. My hands trembled. My father stood behind me, guiding my hand. “Cut like water. No fear. Just flow.” That was my second lesson.
I cut badly at first. Ugly slices, uneven, sometimes torn. I cried once. My father did not scold me. He said, “Fish gives its life. You must give your heart.” So I tried again. And again. And again.
At 18, I left Osaka and went to Tokyo to train under a sashimi master. His name was Nakagawa-sensei. He was strict. He made me cut daikon (white radish) into thin threads for one full year. Only daikon. No fish. He said, “If you cannot master softness, you cannot understand sharpness.” I didn’t complain. I watched, I listened, I learned.
Years passed. I came back to Osaka, took over my father’s bar. I still use his old cutting board, made from hinoki (Japanese cypress). And every time I cut Maguro, I hear his voice.
Sashimi is not just food. It is feeling. It is memory. It is quiet respect.
What is Maguro?
Maguro (鮪) is tuna — the pride of Japanese sashimi. Strong in the ocean, but soft on the plate. There are many kinds of tuna, but we mostly use Honmaguro (bluefin tuna) or Meji (young tuna).
The parts of Maguro are different:
- Akami (赤身) – Lean red meat. Clean taste, less fat.
- Chūtoro (中トロ) – Medium fat. Very soft. My personal favorite.
- Ōtoro (大トロ) – The belly. Rich, buttery. Expensive, for special moments.
We do not cook Maguro in sashimi. We honor the fish by slicing it raw, clean, and true.
The Knives of a Sashimi Chef
A real sashimi chef has a deep bond with his knives. I have used the same set for 40 years. I sharpen them by hand every night. Each knife has its spirit.
- Yanagiba (柳刃包丁) – Long and thin. Used for slicing sashimi. Always slice in one direction, never saw.
- Deba (出刃包丁) – Short, thick, heavy. For cutting bones, heads, and filleting the fish.
- Usuba (薄刃包丁) – For vegetables. Used when cutting garnishes like daikon threads or shiso leaves.
- Takohiki (蛸引き) – Like Yanagiba, but with a flat end. Some chefs prefer it for slicing octopus or square cuts.
I always say, “Hōchō wa inochi — the knife is life.” It must be clean, sharp, and full of care.
How to Make Maguro Sashimi at Home
If you wish to try, here is a simple way to prepare Maguro sashimi at home. You do not need to be perfect. Just be gentle.
You will need:
- Fresh Maguro (Akami or Chūtoro)
- A very sharp knife
- Soy sauce
- Wasabi
- A clean cutting board
- Ice water
- White daikon (optional)
Steps:
1. Prepare the fish
Use only sashimi-grade tuna. If frozen, thaw slowly in the fridge, not in water. Once soft, dry with a paper towel.
2. Chill your knife
Dip your knife in ice water for a moment, then dry. This helps make a clean cut.
3. Cut the Maguro
Place fish on clean board. Hold knife at an angle. Slice in one long pull. Do not push and pull back. Each slice should be smooth, about 1 cm thick.
4. Plate with care
Lay slices gently. You can fan them like flower petals or line them like tiles. Add daikon or shiso leaf if you like, but keep it simple.
5. Serve
Put a dab of wasabi on the fish. Then dip lightly into soy sauce. Don’t mix wasabi into the soy sauce — it hides the taste. Let each bite speak for itself.
Words From an Old Man
Now I am old. My hands are not so fast, but they are steady. I do not chase fashion. I only follow the fish.
Many young chefs want to go fast. They want fame. I tell them, “Go slow. Listen to the knife. Watch the fish.” That is how I learned. That is how I still learn.
Even now, when I cut a perfect slice of Chūtoro, I feel a little peace in my chest. That is the reward. Not money. Not praise. Just peace.
In Japan, we say, “Itadakimasu” before we eat. It means, “I receive.” It shows respect to the fish, to the chef, and to the life we take. When you eat sashimi, please remember that.
Arigatou gozaimashita. Thank you for reading my story. If you ever come to Osaka, look for my little sashimi bar. Sit down, say nothing, and let me serve you one slice of Maguro. That is enough. That is everything.
