If cooks could kill

Chef Kato Toshikazu, of the SanQi restaurant in Mumbai’s Four Seasons Hotel, comes across as a quiet, unassuming man. But at 31, he already enjoys a rare power—the ability to cook fugu (pronounced foo-koo), a delicacy from his homeland, Japan, that is so prized that people the world over literally risk their lives for a taste.

It hardly looks appetising—disproportionately bulky and round in the middle—but it doesn’t look deadly either. And it is. It will kill you in hours if it isn’t properly cleaned and cooked. Some fugu breeds are non-toxic, but the ‘tora fugu’, which is served here, isn’t one of them. Apparently, it’s not the flesh that’s toxic, but everything else—the skeleton, intestines, heart, eyes, blood and even the skin. The liver and ovaries are so deadly that these two organs are banned from consumption even in Japan. It’s believed that the toxins are a result of the fish’s diet and digestive process, but the jury’s still out on that one.

With up to 50 fugu deaths per year, it’s little wonder that cooking fugu comes with strict laws attached. You need a licence— a full training course and examination—to prepare fugu. The licence is only available in Japan, in whose waters the fish is found, and the fish can be cleaned and transported from no other country. Chef Kato insists that the deaths you hear about are confined to the kitchens of unlicensed chefs.

The worst year to date was 1958, during which there were 176 fugu deaths all across Japan. And each death would have followed a pattern—rapid convulsions at first, then between six and 24 hours after dinner, the toxins would cause a spreading paralysis culminating in total respiratory failure.

“The laws of Japan are very stringent,” says Chef Kato. “Only licensed suppliers and chefs can lawfully clean and cook fugu. Death of a patron would bring the ‘honour bound’ chef to take his own life, too. And which chef wants to kill himself?” asks the chef jokingly. As a result, today, most Japanese enjoy the fish without fear.

Fugu facts Fugu is 1,250 times more poisonous than cyanide. Although fugu is available throughout Japan, Shimonoseki port city in Yamaguchi, where fugu is imported from, has become synonymous with fugu and is known as the fugu capital. Fugu is fished throughout the year, over 10,000 tonnes is consumed every year. The consumption levels go up during winters because the fish meat is more elastic in this season because of the (relatively) low temperature of the sea water—also the quantity of toxins in the fish are also significantly less. There is a fugu museum in Osaka that is home to different breeds of the blowfish. These fish are temperamental— the fishermen stitch up the fugu’s lips to keep them from biting and killing each other while being transported Recent excavations have established that fugu was consumed in the Jomon period (10,000 B.C.-300 B.C.). However, its consumption has been banned in Japan at least thrice since. Japan’s first PM, Hirobumi Ito is responsible for the return of the fish to the country’s culinary trail after he tasted some in Shimonoseki. Fugu is cooked in special, separate kitchens in restaurants, and each chef is bound by law to taste his preparation before he offers it to the guests. A fugu chef on losing a customer is honour bound to take his own life.

 

The chef’s licence can take years, if not decades. “Acquiring a fugu licence is a long and exhaustive process. Many spend years just learning how to cut the fish right,” says Chef Kato. The stress on hygiene is so high that if you cut your own finger during the examination, you are not allowed to proceed with the test and are asked to take the examination after further practice. About 30 per cent of applicants fail the test at this point.

Suppliers as well a chefs need this licence to buy, sell, clean and cook the blowfish. Once you learn how to clean the fish, you have to understand safety disposal methods. In case of even an animal’s death due to irresponsible disposal, the chef is reprimanded and, in some cases, his licence is revoked.

First comes a written examination to check if the chef has understood the concepts correctly. After that, there’s a practical test where chefs are asked to cut open the blowfish, separate the toxic parts without contaminating the non-toxic flesh, and tagging the various organs of the fish. They are then asked to dispose of the contaminated portions in a sealed box, which is locked and sent back to the supplier— who then chemically destroys it since the toxic contents are immune to heat. The chef is also expected to prepare a fillet and slice the fish to make sashimi (also called sashi). And then has to eat it. All within 20 minutes, not a moment longer. Otherwise, no licence.

“I got my chef’s licence from Tokyo Chorishi Senmon Gakkou (a chef specialty academy),” says Chef Kato. “I started working at the Four Seasons Hotel in Tokyo during my education, and it was when I was 18 that I first tried fugu. I loved it, and knew instinctively that this is something I wanted to cook. So four years later, I decided the time had come. I started learning how to cut and clean fugu between shifts at work. About two or three times a week, I would go to a supplier at one of the biggest markets in the world—Tsukiji Fish Market—and spend anywhere between five and seven hours learning how to clean the fish right. After a year, I wrote the examination test for the licence and took the practical exam the same day. But, with a moderator breathing down my neck, I was trembling during the examination,” Chef Kato shakes his head. “I didn’t get my licence.”

He went back to the suppliers and practiced longer and harder. This time around, he knew what to expect, so he knew better how to prepare. And when the time came, he excelled. “The year before, I hadn’t been able to finish preparing the sashimi. But the second time around, the whole process took me just 15 minutes! It was definitely a moment of pride to have done it and that too, so well.”

Now, years later, he doesn’t clean the fish anymore. According to Japanese law, only clean fillets of fugu may be exported and then only in purpose-built, clear, plastic containers. So, while Chef Kato has been in Mumbai, there haven’t been any fish for him to clean.

So, does that mean he can’t personally vouch that the sashimi he serves isn’t poisonous?

“No, no! At Four Seasons Hotel, we import only the best quality fugu—’tora fugu’ which costs $200-300 (approximately yen 15,000 or Rs 9,600-14,400). We make fugu sushi, sashimi and light grill—to suit the Indian palate. Once our patrons get used to it, we’ll start importing the less expensive and tasty shostai fugu.”

So, it’s time. Chef Kato has sliced the fillet and laid it down complete with garnish. It looks utterly harmless and yet, I can’t help but feel trepidatious. Fifty deaths a year? I skip the chopsticks and take a piece in my fingers. I want to feel the fish, smell it and taste it, hoping that I’ll be spared the convulsions. I slip the ‘cushiony’ meat on my tongue. It’s gorgeous, juicy and chewy. The sushi, wrapped in rice, is a swift mouthful, but the sashimi takes longer. I have to chew it, almost three minutes for a single slice. Apparently, if the poison is still present, you feel a sharp, tingling feeling on the tongue within 10-15 seconds.

Nothing yet. I think I’m OK…