Fusing culinary traditions at Johnny's Peking Tokyo

January 28, 2015 11:00 pm • Last Updated: March 23, 2015 12:10 pm

By Alex Nunes

The very name Johnny's Peking Tokyo suggests fusion: Peking being the former English name for the Chinese capital of Beijing, Tokyo being Japan's capital city, and John being the biblical name for "he who fuses distinct culinary traditions, forming previously unimagined flavors."

And like the locust-eating John of the New Testament, this Johnny operates under a singular ethos: Vox clamantis in culinario deserto, the voice of one crying out in the culinary wilderness.

The chefs at this Mystic restaurant are whimsical yet disciplined. They let the hibachi sizzle and the miso drizzle. They inhabit a world where East meets East then West. They pair gusto with zest.

Upon entering Peking Tokyo, you feel a stillness. You take in the low hum of ambient music, the dark wood stain of the dining room tables, the portraits of coy fish, the black and white photos of Asian countryside, the giant fish tank en route to the bathroom, and the bouquet of fresh flowers awaiting you at the sink in the men's room.

A server comes to your table with warm, damp towels. You sanitize your hands and face. You partake in the complimentary fried wonton strips and duck sauce. You hear from your server that this menu is new, a month old, if that.

You see that this menu is also pictorial. You don't have to conjure up what your meal might look like. The image is right there. Your friend comments that this glossy new menu is "novel length." You see that he is right. It even includes passages on the health benefits of sushi and a diagram showing the cross section of a single grain of rice. This useful information, you think, is matched only by the menu's beauty.

You order lobster and crab spring rolls ($13.95) from the "fusion appetizers" section. You no longer fear death, because you have been granted the privilege of experiencing heaven on earth. You now know what it means to sink your teeth through flaky crust and luxuriate in lobster meat with rich "miso mae poly sauce."

You try the shumai ($6.50), a scallop-shaped dumpling filled with steamed shrimp. You marvel at the flavor and sticky, doughy consistency. You realize that some common sayings are not trite, that good things do come in small packages.

You see that your wife's sushi dinner comes with a complimentary house salad and miso soup. You sample it; you've always found carrot ginger dressing to be refreshing, but this dressing, this is something else.

You feel equally alive while sipping the broth, mushrooms and seaweed that form her miso soup. She tells you, "Stop. This is my meal." So you retreat, even while your taste buds beg for more.

Your entree comes: blackberry salmon ($26), one of the previously unoffered meals on this menu. The salmon is slightly overcooked, but this fact is forgiven because of the wonderfully unique combination of sweet and savory blackberry glaze, whole blackberries, asparagus and mashed potatoes, a tasty, stickier version of the fluffy, whipped spuds you are accustomed to.

You begin sampling other people's dishes. Your friend's shrimp pad Thai ($15.95) comes with Thai style noodles, sautéed shrimp, egg, bean sprouts, pistachio nuts and scallions. He remarks that the distribution of shrimp is "robust and abundant," that the integration of flavor is successful, "not heavy-handed." You taste and see that he is right. You invoke Bukowski, thinking, this meal is "enough to make a man weep."

You try a sampling of sushi rolls: spicy tuna ($6.95), cucumber ($4.95), avocado ($4.95), and tempura sweet potato ($5.50). This sushi is light on the rice, shining the spotlight on the center ingredients. The sweet potato and avocado are remarkable for their freshness. The spicy tuna is most noteworthy; it has distinct flavor and an indulgently soft texture.

Dessert comes: red bean fried ice cream ($6.95). The other members of your party work their spoons in vain around your quick and nimble utensil movements. You explain that fried ice cream is your favorite, and that this unanticipated red bean twist is deep and earthy. Still, they suggest it might be prudent for you to at least "slow down."

The bill comes. You wonder if you've overspent. Then you realize: if you want good food and unmatched service, you're going to have to pay for it.

You leave a tip that reflects your satisfaction, then proceed to waddle to your car.