Sura Korean / Japanese

Sura Sushi

2795 Pembina Hwy

R3T 2H5

204-269-1077

877-815-3861

http://surasushiwinnipeg.com/

People call South Pembina around the University of Manitoba the new Chinatown but a better moniker would be New Asia.  Yes, Chinese restaurants pop up like tulips in spring here but along side, you see numerous Japanese, Vietnamese, Indian and Korean eating spots.

I’m not sure what Sura’s full name is:  their website lists them as “Sura Sushi” and the takeout menu says “Sura Korean/Japanese.”  Regardless, Sura offers an ample selection from both countries.  For $16.69, you can access all-you-can-eat from most of the menu and for $25.69, that includes all-you-can-eat nigiri and sashimi as well.

This is a lie.

I write down my order and immediately, the server returns my slip to tell me that I’m limited to 10 pieces max of any nigiri or sashimi.  I know that sushi grade fish is expensive—if you’re not willing to offer a bottomless barrel, don’t state it.  Let me know beforehand there’s a limit rather than falsely advertise that it’s all-you-can-eat.

Starting with the Korean side of the menu, the mains start with an intro of kimchi, sliced cucumbers and potatoes.  The sweetish potatoes tastes soft with a spicy edge.  The cucumbers too have a bit of a spicy side, complemented with garlic flavour.  I’ve never gotten accustomed to kimchi.  I can understand how some people would like the freshness—even though Sura’s tastes milder than most, it’s still too pungent for me.

The menu lists the Chicken Gangjeong as “deep fried chicken with teriyaki or spicy sauce.”  Our server never offered the option of either teriyaki or spicy—it just came spicy.  To chilli-heads like me, that’s fine but if you’re not accustomed to eating spicy, this packs a considerable punch.  Aside from the spiciness, the dish can easily be renamed “sweet and sour chicken balls.”  Although the nuggets aren’t perfectly round, the pieces of chicken come dipped in batter, deep fried, with a sweet, sour and spicy sauce. 

The meal ends with cubes of lightly battered, deep-fried tofu.  Immersed in a sweet sauce, this is a nice, light dessert to end the meal.

Move onto the Japanese side of the menu and things aren’t nearly as good.  I often use the ubiquitous California roll as a benchmark to sushi.  Great sushi houses use lump crab in their rolls—this rarely arises in Winnipeg.  The Cal roll is adequate with canned or flaked crab.  I think it’s a misrepresentation to use pollack as a substitute to crab.  Sura takes it another step as the sliver of pollack has been shaved so thin that it’s little larger than a matchstick.  The huge slices of cucumber dominate this roll, leaving it rather bland and flavourless.  Similarly, the Rainbow roll (a Cal roll with sashimi on top) has the same paucity of fish.  The expert carvers wield their sushi knives like samurai swords as the topping pieces of sashimi are sliced so thinly, I can see right through them. 

Massive wads of rice dominate the other rolls.  The tuna rolls have tiny morsels of tuna, wrapped by a thick layer of rice, much like bundling in a sleeping bag when camping in the dead of winter.  The Volcano Roll, listed as the spiciest item on the menu, has barely an edge to it.  With very little scallop, roe or vegetables, this essentially becomes a mountain of rice with mayo on top.  Rolls with tempura bits also fail miserably.  A light sprinkling of tempura adds a slight dimension of grease to enhance the meal (much like spreading butter on starch).  In addition, the tempura provides a wonderful texture through it’s crunchy nature—but not if the tempura is old.  Then it becomes a gooey, chewy, gum-like mess.  That’s what you get here.

While my rolls came in a timely fashion, the remainder of my order makes no effort to come to my table.  I guess it doesn’t bother me that the rolls come first.  Normally, you want to eat your sashimi first, nigiri next, then your rolls, but I love sushi so much, I’ll eat it in any order.  Not having anything in front of me however, gives me plenty of time to observe my environment.

The dining room definitely needs a bit of refreshing.  Some of the ceiling tiles look like they’ve endured flooding and are in desperate need of changing.  The benches look bright and fresh but they’re as lumpy as mattresses on a curb.  If you want me to sit here for 50 minutes waiting for my food, I expect at least a cushy place to sit.

As a background, we have two servers in the restaurant, which sits about half-full.  Both servers appear to be twenty-some in age.  I guess I’m not their target favourite patron, being in my forties.  Neither is the thirty-some fellow waiting at the counter for ten minutes to be seated.  Nope, their favourite customers are the blonde and brunette 20-ish customers who just sat down at the other side of the dining room.  Their orders are taken right away, and surprise, in two minutes, there’s food on their table.  They return five times to replenish their all-you-can-eat, while nothing / no one has come to my table for over a half-hour.  I thought it was curious that there’s a call button on the table—now I understand the necessity of it.  The call button should say, “press for service if you’re not female and in your 20s.” 

After the girl table leaves, miraculously, a server returns.  He asks if I want another slip to order more food. 

How about bringing me the food that I ordered previously? 

He apologises profusely and returns to the kitchen.  Two minutes later, my sashimi comes—amazing.  The pieces of tuna taste fine, except that they’re warm, room temperature warm.  Sashimi is supposed to taste fresh out of the fridge, cold and sharp.  This tells me that my dish has been sitting on the counter for a while but no one bothered to pick it up since it isn’t destined to go to a blonde with long hair.  

The salmon sashimi tastes ok, but not melt-in-your-mouth like great salmon does.  The scallop sashimi rolls in the next disaster.  Scallop sashimi is supposed to be a thick cut of a colossal scallop—what I have here is a mass of baby scallops, each about the diameter of a dime.  To make matters worse, none of the pod feet were removed; this is the chewy tough piece on the side of the scallop that you don’t want to eat. 

I’m having my doubts that this is sushi-grade scallops.  They look suspiciously like the kind of scallops that you can find at any grocery store with a live seafood section.  They taste flavourless and slimy—not at all like what scallop sashimi is supposed to taste like.  I can choke this down with heaps of soy and wasabi, but like many of my other dishes, I had to ask for a wasabi refill.  Thankfully, they have a “press for service if you’re not female and in your 20s” button.

If I stand outside and throw a rock, I can hit a better Japanese restaurant than this one.  With all the choices around here, there’s absolutely no reason to return to Sura-whatever.  I Sura never come back here again. 

*½ /5

This is a free product that I'm happy to bring to you.  If you enjoyed reading this, please consider clicking on the accompanying ads.  This is the only payment I receive for offering this public service.  Thank you as always for reading.