Sebo mystery

My neighborhood is still a mystery to me. I’m slowly figuring it out, finding all the nooks and crannies of cool hang out spots, and trying to believe myself to be hip and stylish enough to not only live in Hayes Valley but to step through the doors of all those expensive-looking boutiques. Tonight’s dinner unraveled yet another Hayes Valley mystery—the mystery restaurant behind the shrouded windows.

I had dinner at Sebo, a little Japanese restaurant on Hayes at Octavia. Scott and I had walked passed it a few weeks ago as we were heading out of Paxti’s (whose Chicago style pizza in no way rivals Zachary’s), and we couldn’t figure out what it was or where it came from. The windows were covered in a tan colored screen, there was no sign on the door or windows, no menu posted, nothing to signal that this was a place where people could enter and get their hunger fed. I thought it was a private club of some sort, where only the hippest and trendiest of the San Francisco crowd could partake in the company of other hip and trendy San Franciscans. I’m glad it wasn’t. Instead, it was yet another new restaurant trying to stake a more permanent claim in this neighborhood of rotating retail space.

There were only two tables of diners when we arrived. It was quiet but cozy. It was evident that thought and care were put in to the design of the space. The pale green walls were offset by grayish Japanese-style mounted screens. The angular tables played on the oblique lines running across the screens. The decorations were minimal. Its clean simplicity was stylish yet inviting as was the small open kitchen at the back of long rectangular dining space. There, two young attractive men stood at the bar rolling rice balls and slicing fish. On the planks of wood around them that acted as shelves dishes awaited plating, and a large pot could be seen simmering away on the stovetop.

The menu wasn’t overly elaborate either. There was an extensive nigiri selection with names of seafood that I hadn’t heard of (icefish, fluke, big eye tuna) and some that seemed too questionable for me to even consider trying (monkfish liver). The maki section had some interesting sounding selections as well. The appetizer had the usual Japanese restaurant appetizer fare. And, there was also a section of small plates with chirashi and donburis, among other items.

We ordered a maki roll with lemon, avocado, and tuna, the fluke nigiri, and another nigiri whose name I don’t remember. The fish of both the nigiri was fresh, succulently soft, and buttery. The rice was just perceptibly warm, sticky, and sweet. The flavors of both the rice and fish were so fresh and pure that any more than just a touch of the wasabi soy sauce would ruin the flavors. The maki roll was one that I had my doubts about, mainly because of the presence of lemon, which I found to be an unusual addition. But, when I put the small green roll with a red center into my mouth and the fresh lemon zest punched the rooftop and tongue of my mouth, I could taste its zing mix with the smooth, velvety texture of the of the fish and it was wonderful. We finished off the meal with a glass of the “Five Bridges” saki. It was a chilled one with a fresh, crisp, slightly fruity flavor.

As I walked out of the warm restaurant and into the cold darkness of Hayes St., I was glad that this new little place was here and that I didn’t need a secret handshake to be allowed inside. If only I could feel that way about all those other mysterious shops that look so cool from the outside.