Focus, Grasshopper

THE GRASSHOPPERS arrive at your table on rafts of cubed rice,
strapped down with a glistening band of seaweed. They’re dark brown
with a shellacked sheen, making them look like professional beachgoers;
an effect only heightened by the small paper parasol planted beside
them. Still, there’s no mistaking them for what they are: big bugs.
Crunchy with hints of grass and soy, and a slight nuttiness mingling
with sticky sushi rice—but big bugs nonetheless.

In many places around the world, picking insect limbs from your
teeth is not such an oddity. But in Portland, one of the few places to
sit down and enjoy grasshoppers is Sushi Mazi on SE Division. Not
coincidentally, Mazi is also the only place to experience a Pop Rocks
roll–essentially a spicy tuna roll topped with the noisy,
pop-in-your-mouth candy. Though the initial response to these dishes
might be to brush them off as silly gimmicks, they speak to something
deeper at work in owner Marc Suwansathien’s food: a sense of play.

The Pop Rocks roll isn’t brilliant. But it works just well enough to
keep it from the realm of base gratuity. The sourness of the candy is
reminiscent of crisp ginger, and adding a thin slice of the latter to
one of the noisy rounds creates more complex ginger tones. The thin
salty tang of soy sauce works well against the candy sweetness, but the
tuna is lost in the riot of mouth-crackling texture and flavor
collisions. Still, it’s clear that Suwansathien has a sense of
silliness and creativity, which is unfortunately unfocused on his large
menu.

Buried within the numerous signature rolls, entrées, and
appetizers are delightful dishes. The fiery sweet-glazed suicide wings
are delicious. The rich, seaweed-heavy miso soup adequately satisfies,
and on a recent visit, there were a few lovely sushi
moments—melt-in-your-mouth salmon topped with a bright tiny lemon
wedge and a similarly presented mackerel with just enough assertive
fishiness to play against the citrus. Also, there are those
grasshoppers, which will move from novelty to necessity in my dining
universe.

But often, when Suwansathien tries to stretch, the results fall a
bit flat. His “My Tempura Style” is beautifully presented: rice wraps a
thin slice of chicken along with broccoli, cream cheese, and crab, all
of it battered, deep fried, cut, and stacked in a bright pyramid on the
plate. However, a bite reveals the chicken to be tough and dry, the
broccoli flavor too aggressive, and the crab completely unnecessary.
Essentially it’s a dehydrated version of a chicken, broccoli, and rice
cream soup. Not terrible—but not what you were hoping for,
either.

The trend continues in the bland signature California Route 66 roll,
far too packed with extras for any of the subtle ingredients to shine,
and the regular California roll with its imitation crab.

In this world there are great sushi restaurants, cheap sushi-train
dives, and those places in between. Mazi is in between. If only the
sushi were brighter, the menu smaller and the sense of play
focused.

Still, Mazi should not be ignored. I suspect that if Suwansathien
were to cut about half his menu and hone the wild sense of play and
creativity, he could become one of the city’s sushi mavericks. I’d
suggest he start with the grasshoppers, and build from there.