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Last Updated: Jul 7, 2008 - 10:08:41 AM
Now and Zen
By Arnold Wayne Jones
Jun 11, 2008 - 1:14:03 PM
Zen Sushi chef-owner Michelle Carpenter shares a lot in common with the food she creates: born in Japan but with an American attitude
As Oak Cliff, and in particular the Bishop Arts District, elbows its way into the consciousness of culinary-minded North Texans, restaurants have sprouted there like mushrooms after a midnight rainstorm. From the lazy, haute-Southern style of Hattie’s and Tillman’s Roadhouse to the charming south-of-the-border flair of Vera Cruz to Italian (Vitto’s), coffee (Nodding Dog) and burgers (Hunky’s), Bishop Arts offers a virtual microcosm of Western hemisphere cuisine.
So while the name Zen Sushi might sound like a thematic detour — a lone foray into the food of the Far East — chef-owner Michelle Carpenter doesn’t see it that way. To her, the restaurant is wholly American … it merely serves Japanese-influenced food.
Carpenter fits right in with the ethos of Oak Cliff.
“I love the area, it’s like a real neighborhood,” Carpenter says over a bowl of edamame during a break from the lunch rush. “People from Oak Cliff never say they’re from Dallas, they say they are from Oak Cliff — very prideful. Neighbors know each other. And most businesses in Bishop Arts are gay-owned, which I didn’t realize until I moved here. The restaurants aren’t in competition with each other, everyone wants everyone else to do well. It’s very comfortable here.”
Born in Tokyo to an American father and a Japanese mother, she grew up with her feet straddling two continents. Being proud of her roots —mom’s and dad’s — informs Carpenter’s approach to cooking, even when preparing the quintessential food of Japan.
“Food always was important in my family. Being Japanese, [my mother] wasn’t very talkative; she expresses herself though her food,” Carpenter says. Her mother showed her how two chefs, standing next to each other in the same kitchen, using the same ingredients and following the same recipe, can produce two vastly different dishes.
“It comes to the energy you put into it,” she says, quoting her mother. That became the source of Carpenter’s interest in cooking.
Still, her parents didn’t exactly encourage her to pursue a career as a chef.
“They wanted me to go to college, become an engineer,” she says with a shrug, as if her parents had just mentioned it last week. But between her senior year of high school and entry to college, Carpenter began working in a Japanese restaurant and became hooked.
“I was fascinated by how long it took to put a meal together,” she says. “What you see at the end at night, that’s the accumulation of what goes on during a long day.”
Carpenter pursued cooking, living for a while in San Antonio — “not many sushi bars there,” she laments — then moving to San Diego, where her apprenticeship was a kind of trial by fire.
“I worked for a company that had three restaurants and I was shuttled between them,” she says. “At the time, I didn’t think it was all that nice, but I got to see techniques of different chefs. I learned a lot.”
It wasn’t any easier in the insular realm of sushi because, despite her Japanese appearance, Carpenter’s name and upbringing pegged her as an American (she called herself a Japanese-Cajun, owing to her father’s Louisiana heritage). Although Japanese is her native tongue, she came to the U.S. when she was 5; now, her Japanese vocabulary is mostly limited to food items. Being a woman and gay didn’t help, either.
Still, she learned a lot, culling practices from each expert chef to form her own style. Her attentiveness served her well. Eventually, she returned to Texas — first to Dallas, then back to San Antonio, then Dallas again, where she worked at Yamaguchi’s (in the space now occupied by Shinsei).
When that closed, Carpenter took a year off to work on her concept for Zen Sushi. “Dallas has a huge food scene,”she says, but she feels some restaurants try to please everyone. “But being a chef is about what you think is best. People have an idea of Japanese food; I’m modernizing it for American tastes, not Americanizing it.”
So at Zen, gone are the kitschy lacquered bento boxes of the ‘70s and ‘80s, replaced by modern, curvaceous plates. Spiciness is good (it releases endorphins, bringing on a state of euphoria), but nothing should be excessive, which she feels a lot of sushi has become.
“There was a plateau where, once sushi had been perfected, we want to make it better, to add to it. You can’t just fuse Japanese with other stuff — it’s got to be a gradual progression. You can’t put weird textures with tuna,” she says.
So while Carpenter accedes to the Zen philosophy that embraces simplicity, she still enjoys a few surprises along the path toward enlightenment — for herself and her customers.
AT ONE WITH SUSHI
With the recent closing of BLT Steak, New York-based Laurent Tourondel’s French-style steakhouse in North Dallas, it seems apparent that the stereotype of Texans consuming nothing but beef can finally be laid to rest.
Certain Michelle Carpenter, chef-owner of Zen Sushi, defies that expectation. Sure, there’s red meat on her menu in the guise of beef tataki and grilled tenderloin on the bento plate, but the specialty here is fish.
The distinguishing characteristics of most sushi restaurants is simplicity, and Carpenter adheres to that principle with with discipline. The sushi rolls pictured; (only a handful are offered, in keeping with true Japanese style) are crisply executed, both gorgeously appointed and tasty. The bulldog sauce on the panko-fried kurobuta pork cutlet ($13.50) provides an elegant but flavorful accent to a great chop.
Indeed, the bento plates all make excellent lunch options, as does the spicy chef’s salad with piece of sashimi ($16).
The decor reflects the same aesthetic: muted natural tones except for a splash of pearly saffron-colored drapes in back. There’s a peaceful style that feels unhurried and relaxing, whether you’re here for a quick bite at lunch or a leisurely dinner.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition June 13, 2008.
 |
| NEW KID IN TOWN: Michelle Carpenter was pleasantly surprised to find so many gay-run businesses in Bishop Arts. - ARNOLD WAYNE JONES/Dallas Voice |
As Oak Cliff, and in particular the Bishop Arts District, elbows its way into the consciousness of culinary-minded North Texans, restaurants have sprouted there like mushrooms after a midnight rainstorm. From the lazy, haute-Southern style of Hattie’s and Tillman’s Roadhouse to the charming south-of-the-border flair of Vera Cruz to Italian (Vitto’s), coffee (Nodding Dog) and burgers (Hunky’s), Bishop Arts offers a virtual microcosm of Western hemisphere cuisine.
So while the name Zen Sushi might sound like a thematic detour — a lone foray into the food of the Far East — chef-owner Michelle Carpenter doesn’t see it that way. To her, the restaurant is wholly American … it merely serves Japanese-influenced food.
Carpenter fits right in with the ethos of Oak Cliff.
“I love the area, it’s like a real neighborhood,” Carpenter says over a bowl of edamame during a break from the lunch rush. “People from Oak Cliff never say they’re from Dallas, they say they are from Oak Cliff — very prideful. Neighbors know each other. And most businesses in Bishop Arts are gay-owned, which I didn’t realize until I moved here. The restaurants aren’t in competition with each other, everyone wants everyone else to do well. It’s very comfortable here.”
Born in Tokyo to an American father and a Japanese mother, she grew up with her feet straddling two continents. Being proud of her roots —mom’s and dad’s — informs Carpenter’s approach to cooking, even when preparing the quintessential food of Japan.
“Food always was important in my family. Being Japanese, [my mother] wasn’t very talkative; she expresses herself though her food,” Carpenter says. Her mother showed her how two chefs, standing next to each other in the same kitchen, using the same ingredients and following the same recipe, can produce two vastly different dishes.
“It comes to the energy you put into it,” she says, quoting her mother. That became the source of Carpenter’s interest in cooking.
Still, her parents didn’t exactly encourage her to pursue a career as a chef.
“They wanted me to go to college, become an engineer,” she says with a shrug, as if her parents had just mentioned it last week. But between her senior year of high school and entry to college, Carpenter began working in a Japanese restaurant and became hooked.
“I was fascinated by how long it took to put a meal together,” she says. “What you see at the end at night, that’s the accumulation of what goes on during a long day.”
Carpenter pursued cooking, living for a while in San Antonio — “not many sushi bars there,” she laments — then moving to San Diego, where her apprenticeship was a kind of trial by fire.
“I worked for a company that had three restaurants and I was shuttled between them,” she says. “At the time, I didn’t think it was all that nice, but I got to see techniques of different chefs. I learned a lot.”
It wasn’t any easier in the insular realm of sushi because, despite her Japanese appearance, Carpenter’s name and upbringing pegged her as an American (she called herself a Japanese-Cajun, owing to her father’s Louisiana heritage). Although Japanese is her native tongue, she came to the U.S. when she was 5; now, her Japanese vocabulary is mostly limited to food items. Being a woman and gay didn’t help, either.
Still, she learned a lot, culling practices from each expert chef to form her own style. Her attentiveness served her well. Eventually, she returned to Texas — first to Dallas, then back to San Antonio, then Dallas again, where she worked at Yamaguchi’s (in the space now occupied by Shinsei).
When that closed, Carpenter took a year off to work on her concept for Zen Sushi. “Dallas has a huge food scene,”she says, but she feels some restaurants try to please everyone. “But being a chef is about what you think is best. People have an idea of Japanese food; I’m modernizing it for American tastes, not Americanizing it.”
So at Zen, gone are the kitschy lacquered bento boxes of the ‘70s and ‘80s, replaced by modern, curvaceous plates. Spiciness is good (it releases endorphins, bringing on a state of euphoria), but nothing should be excessive, which she feels a lot of sushi has become.
“There was a plateau where, once sushi had been perfected, we want to make it better, to add to it. You can’t just fuse Japanese with other stuff — it’s got to be a gradual progression. You can’t put weird textures with tuna,” she says.
So while Carpenter accedes to the Zen philosophy that embraces simplicity, she still enjoys a few surprises along the path toward enlightenment — for herself and her customers.
“There’s no rule against having good deserts at a Japanese restaurant,” she smiles.
|
GONE FISHIN’
Zen Sushi
380 W. Seventh St. Open Mondays– Fridays for lunch (11:30 a.m.–2 p.m.)
and Mondays–Saturdays for dinner (5:30–10 p.m.; 11 p.m. weekends).
214-946-9699. |
AT ONE WITH SUSHI
 |
With the recent closing of BLT Steak, New York-based Laurent Tourondel’s French-style steakhouse in North Dallas, it seems apparent that the stereotype of Texans consuming nothing but beef can finally be laid to rest.
Certain Michelle Carpenter, chef-owner of Zen Sushi, defies that expectation. Sure, there’s red meat on her menu in the guise of beef tataki and grilled tenderloin on the bento plate, but the specialty here is fish.
The distinguishing characteristics of most sushi restaurants is simplicity, and Carpenter adheres to that principle with with discipline. The sushi rolls pictured; (only a handful are offered, in keeping with true Japanese style) are crisply executed, both gorgeously appointed and tasty. The bulldog sauce on the panko-fried kurobuta pork cutlet ($13.50) provides an elegant but flavorful accent to a great chop.
Indeed, the bento plates all make excellent lunch options, as does the spicy chef’s salad with piece of sashimi ($16).
The decor reflects the same aesthetic: muted natural tones except for a splash of pearly saffron-colored drapes in back. There’s a peaceful style that feels unhurried and relaxing, whether you’re here for a quick bite at lunch or a leisurely dinner.
— A.W.J.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition June 13, 2008.
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