I'm Asian. I love noodles, I love tofu, I love stir-fry. My love for the "authentic" flavors that I have grown up with means that I'm usually quite picky about my food. Therefore, it was with great reluctance that I allowed my mother to drag me to what she claimed to be the best sushi she had ever tasted. While we were surrounded by the mountains. In Utah. Which happens to have a desert, with desiccated plants and cacti.
“Sushi” conjures up images of Chef Jiro, of Japanese backgrounds and of colorful fish wrapped in seaweed. “Sushi” does not usually conjure up the image of a cheerful, inventive American. Except when it's used in the case of Scott Benson, sushi chef at Lespri in Park City, Utah.
Behind a sushi bar that seats four
people, Chef Benson freely admits that he “doesn't like recipes.”
After graduating high school at 15, Benson landed his first job in a
kitchen. While the kitchen was fascinating to learn in, it lacked
the personal interactions with clients that he preferred.
“Sushi” conjures up images of Chef Jiro, of Japanese backgrounds and of colorful fish wrapped in seaweed. “Sushi” does not usually conjure up the image of a cheerful, inventive American. Except when it's used in the case of Scott Benson, sushi chef at Lespri in Park City, Utah.
Lespri is a hotel, spa and restaurant,
located not on Main Street, but instead on the residential Sidewinder
Avenue. The area is calm and quiet; in fact, we almost drove past it. The building shares a parking lot with a few other stores, including a 7-Eleven. The sign is done in beautiful, almost-cursive lettering and painted white.
He serves us the first course: a beautiful interpretation of a tostada, covered with tuna, soy, cucumber and maguro, instead of the usual beef or pork. The shell crunches and the sauce is sticky sweet, with a bit of spice and savory richness. Of course, it gets a little messy near the end, when there is just a bit of shell and toppings falling over it. I refrain from licking the sauce off my thumb, but barely.
Meanwhile, with only my mother and I at the bar, Benson continues to tell us his story. Once he started learning how to make
sushi, it was yet again another struggle. Sushi chefs are notorious
for keeping secrets, about the process of making sushi, about where they get their supplies, about how they serve their food. However, he does not share the same reticence.
Scott Benson continues with a second dish: hamachi nigiri. He happily explains his goal to find suppliers who will allow him to serve sustainable sushi, that is both flavorful and fresh. His goal starting at as a sushi chef was to learn as much as possible. But when your teachers hide secrets, sometimes the best way is to improvise. Benson ended up improvising: he made his own sauces, tried out different rolls and styles, and even mixed his cuisines (like the tostade-inspired dish).
The third dish is served up as soon as he finishes his story. This time, it is a sushi roll, with salmon. Salmon from Scotland. I feel my eyebrow raise up as he explains calmly: the season is not right for sushi from Alaska, that the salmon for Scotland are more eco-friendly and that the method that his supplier uses is highly sustainable. Regardless, the sushi roll is delicious.
Finally, as my stomach sighs and stretches, there is one last dish: a martini glass, filled with one of the most colorful concoctions that I can imagine. Tuna, covered with avocado, mixed with cucumber, on a bed of seaweed.
At the very end, Scott Benson deserves his own category of sushi chef. He was remarkably engaging the entire time and absolutely courteous (he even tried to convince us to eat dessert!). All in all, the cost was less than 40 dollars, my mother earned her "I-told-you-so" (and wore it with aplomb), and I will be dreaming of more sushi.
Scott Benson continues with a second dish: hamachi nigiri. He happily explains his goal to find suppliers who will allow him to serve sustainable sushi, that is both flavorful and fresh. His goal starting at as a sushi chef was to learn as much as possible. But when your teachers hide secrets, sometimes the best way is to improvise. Benson ended up improvising: he made his own sauces, tried out different rolls and styles, and even mixed his cuisines (like the tostade-inspired dish).
The third dish is served up as soon as he finishes his story. This time, it is a sushi roll, with salmon. Salmon from Scotland. I feel my eyebrow raise up as he explains calmly: the season is not right for sushi from Alaska, that the salmon for Scotland are more eco-friendly and that the method that his supplier uses is highly sustainable. Regardless, the sushi roll is delicious.
Finally, as my stomach sighs and stretches, there is one last dish: a martini glass, filled with one of the most colorful concoctions that I can imagine. Tuna, covered with avocado, mixed with cucumber, on a bed of seaweed.
At the very end, Scott Benson deserves his own category of sushi chef. He was remarkably engaging the entire time and absolutely courteous (he even tried to convince us to eat dessert!). All in all, the cost was less than 40 dollars, my mother earned her "I-told-you-so" (and wore it with aplomb), and I will be dreaming of more sushi.
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