
Last week at Don Udon, a new noodle bar in Crown Heights, I slurped on bukkake udon — the dish had the name first, for the record — that I drowned in chilled, seasoned dashi before eating. The cold noodles were thick and tense, and the broth, into which a finely grated mound of daikon radish dissolved into crunchy flecks, was crisp and salty. The brightest thing in the bowl was a scoop of glistening salmon roe on top, flanked by sliced scallions and a lemon wedge. After the noodles were gone, I chased down each remaining slippery orb with my chopsticks until none were left.
I’ve been seeing a lot of salmon roe in restaurants lately. Showy donburis fanned with snow crab and uni — like the versions at Taberu Nomu in Chelsea and Ozakaya in Prospect Heights — are only complete with a generous section of the orange spheres. It might also show up as the surprise under a lidded cup of chawanmushi as part of a $99 omakase where one of the courses entails the chef dropping a scoop of marinated ikura onto pieces of nori in each guest’s hand. And I’ve appreciated the roe in smaller portions, like on an $8 onigiri at Conohen in Bed Stuy. This inclination to “put some eggs on it” goes beyond Japanese restaurants, too. At Mango Bay in Fort Greene, the “ras & pasta” was topped with stracciatella, lobster, and roe, while at Pitt’s over in Red Hook, the roe is swirled into sauce that’s spooned under a slab of peppercorn-crusted swordfish.
In a way, salmon roe is the perfect ingredient for this moment: Oily seafood has been enjoying a reputational glow-up, with new tinned-fish reviewers showing up on TikTok every day. At the same time, margin-tight restaurants have become adept at pushing portions of caviar on everything. Ikura meets these two trends in the middle, offering the experience of fish roe popping like salty gushers at a cost someone can spare for lunch. Or brunch.
At Ma dé in Nolita, chef Cedric Vongerichten reaches for trout roe — an effective dupe for salmon — as the topping for French toast. Vongerichten says the salty, umami flavor is compatible with the pandan-infused custard’s savory, coconutty notes. He then dredges the soaked bread in cornstarch so it fries to a crisp golden brown on all sides. When Ma dé first started serving the dish, it was finished with proper caviar, but the switch to roe has made it a more affordable option, currently $20, and guests still have the choice to upgrade if they’re feeling spendy.
French toast aside, the bulk of New York ikura does show up on Japanese food, but the actual ingredient often comes from Alaska. “The traditional market, if you look back 40, 50, 60 years, has been export to Japan,” says Jim Erickson, the vice-president of Alaska Home Pack in Juneau, “but we certainly have seen a growing trend domestically.” Today, the U.S. and Canada make up 70 percent of his company’s sales, compared to just 20 percent a decade ago.
Another statistic that has increased recently is the number of American visitors to Japan — and people posting videos of ikura piled onto rice until it overflows. Bowls mounted with uni, tuna, and a cascade of ikura flowing from the peak were the inspiration for the kaisendon at The Residence of Mr. Moto in Williamsburg, a homey offshoot of The Office of Mr. Moto. At The Residence, ikura is dished out in hefty 45 gram portions, and just like at Tsujihan in Tokyo, when you’re nearly done with your order, they top the bowl off with broth made from the butchered fish bones to transform the last bites into a porridge-like ochazuke, ikura bobbing all around. Marinated with soy and mirin, the eggs season the seafood underneath with sweet and savory pops as the beads scatter across the bowl, like sprinkles on a sundae.
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