Sandy, the Foodhoe blogger was in attendance at the Abura-ya Pop-up dinner I reviewed March 5th. She's got excellent photos, and clearly enjoyed it more than we did. We thought it was okay, fun to do once, but we wouldn't bother to return. It wasn't that distinctive or well-executed, more like slightly upgraded bar food in a cafeteria atmosphere: http://www.foodhoe.com/2015/03/abura-ya-in-oakland/. 

Abura-Ya
380 15th St., Oakland, CA (b/t Webster & Franklin Sts.)
Yelp: http://www.yelp.com/biz/abura-ya-oakland-2
Review date: February 26, 2015

Going to dinner with a group of strangers needs to be viewed in a certain light. You're going to meet some people you would normally never meet, which is a good thing. You also might be eating food you wouldn't normally order, in a restaurant you either haven't gotten around to trying yet, or never intended to try in the first place...which can also be good for the soul, if not necessarily for the stomach or palate.

And when it's a group (Meet-Up, in this case) that wants to try the widest variety of food they can at one time, it's a way to cram into a single sitting what would normally require multiple visits by Carlos and me.

This is our second Meet-Up dinner. This time the group totaled eight. Christina Mitchell, blogger of East Bay Dish, hosts the dinners, and everyone shares the costs of food evenly. Drinks of any type other than free water are paid for by the person who wants them.

Abura-Ya is a pop-up (our first; we are pop-up virgins no more!) which specializes in karaage, the fried chicken nuggets that are a Japanese favorite. Using the space of a salad bar restaurant that is only open for weekday lunch, Abura-Ya takes over in the evenings, Wednesday through Saturday. There are no reservations taken, and the space is shallow although very long. 

The bathrooms are painfully clean, something you can't take for granted in downtown Oakland as these are mostly all old, small buildings. The tables aren't large and the wooden chairs are solid, heavy, and uncushioned.

There isn't much room between the front door and the chef's counter where you read the menu and order. Thus, it can look more crowded than it really is. There are two legal-sized menu pasteboards on the counter. The basic menu is also in quarter-sheets which can be used for take-out or just perusal, but the daily specials aren't on it. Those are only pasted on the bottom half of the two boards. 

They wouldn't let us take the menuboards over to our table, so we tried to read the quarter sheets instead, which are a shrunken version of what's on the boards. Even the Millennials were having problems reading these. The lighting is good inside, but the dish names are a messy-looking 6-pt font, and the descriptions/prices are a 4-pt font, at best – basically illegible. And whatever font they use has an annoying 'grunge' look about it: the letters aren't lined up evenly, and the individual downstrokes and curves have an uneven width, as if set by a drunken printer. It's very, very hard to read.

For our group we put two tables together – yes, we did it ourselves. It's that kind of place, with an informal air. Utensils and water are on a self-serve table by the windows. Chopsticks are the nicer Japanese bamboo ones you don't need to break apart, which was something of a surprise considering the bargain-basement quality of everything else, which is typical of a pop-up. The flatware is cheap flimsy plastic. Napkins are thin brown paper singles. Cups are the tiny paper cups your dentist gives you with mouthwash in them, about a 2-oz shot glass size. There is an impressive variety of hot sauces alongside the paper cups and water container. 

Many people eat at the long counter, looking out onto 15th St. This is take-out, fast casual food, although there's three four-top tables and three two-tops. There's also a small lounge area, with a rattan loveseat and armchair perfect for a group of three or a couple to grab, that is furthest from the music speakers and thus very quiet. 

The closer you are to the open kitchen, the louder the music is. We were fairly close, so it wasn't easy to hold conversations.

The group had the usual debate over what to order. We decided on sharing all eight flavors of the karaage along with several side dishes. Two of us went up to the counter to order and pay. 

An order of eight pieces can be split into two separate flavors. Thus, we could do four orders of eight pieces, and try all eight 'toppings'. Abura-Ya uses boneless chicken pieces cut in a generous size, enough for two people to share one piece and have two small bites each. Most of it is breast meat, although a few pieces were dark meat.

When the food was ready, they called us over to pick it up, placing the various cardboard servers on a tray for easy transporting. These are the lightweight, rectangular open boxes used by hot dog vendors and state fair food vendors. Small ones serve as plates; larger ones become serving platters. 

It wasn't easy telling which flavor was which, as nothing was marked and a number of the dry rubbed karaage look alike. By careful tasting I managed to ID all of them for Carlos and me, although as we continued to pass the serving boxes around the table, the dry-fried flavors kept getting mixed up again.

Agave Ginger Teriyaki: Very light and tasty, with a hint of chile heat. Redeems teriyaki from the oversweet goopiness that has bastardized this once-great favorite. There's a hint of vinegar I don't care for, but the ginger is kept in bounds. Everybody liked this, and it's been rightly called the best karaage flavor they make.

Orange Honey Aioli: Unmistakable due to the mayo-like look of it. Not as sweet or as citrusy as I expected. If you love the mayo coating on the Chinese shrimp with candied walnuts dish, this is very similar.

Japanese BBQ: We liked that there was no tomato-based bbq sauce, but the chicken had a slight glaze to it that was well-caramelized and tasty. Technically this one is not karaage, as it isn't dredged with potato flour and deep-fried. The chicken was a touch overcooked, as were many of the breast pieces – not noticeably so, but maybe a minute or so too long. 

Umami Salt: God, this was salty! Coated with medium grind sea salt, and nothing but the salt.

Shichimi: Japanese pepper mix. Good, but not as hot as we expected. Not really distinctive.

Sansho: Japanese "tingle" pepper. It's similar to a less-floral Szechuan peppercorn, but with even more mouth tingle. Not a lot of heat, just that mouth/tongue tingling. It's a fun flavor and I enjoyed it as it's not used much by chefs here.

Garlic Miso: I liked this, a very flavorful karaage with less salt than many of the others. There were a few crunchy toasted garlic bits but the garlic was in balance, not overwhelming.

Japanese Curry: This was a little spicier than I expected; traditionally Japanese curry was always very mild. But it was more aggressively flavored than a commercial curry blend, a dry rub spiked with a little bit of Vietnamese cinnamon.

We also had:
Fried Cauliflower: A mix of white and Romanesco cauliflowerets, it was stir-fried, not deep-fried. I find stir-frying cauliflower, especially with no seasonings except salt, not as interesting as roasting. This was a big hit with the majority of the group, though.

Fried onion: A whole white onion, cut in flower-petal style but not battered, was deep-fried until soft. The layers were thin enough to cook through and become soft and sweet, but this was also stunningly greasy. It was literally swimming in oil in the container. One either likes this or one doesn't. I was probably the only one who didn't care for it. Carlos was fine with it; he liked the sweetness.

Wasabi coleslaw: True wasabi, reasonably mild with only a hint of bite, dressed this standard cabbage slaw. Good, although not remarkable.

Tako poke: You don't see this often – thin slices of octopus in a light yuzu dressing, topped with the tiniest dab of red miso. There was a center heap of sliced raw green jalapenos, although I can't imagine why anyone would use them with a bland food like octopus. Only octopus lovers need apply here, meaning only one other diner, Sandy (a Japanese-American who blogs at Foodhoe.com), joined us in knocking this one off. I was actually surprised the group wanted to order it, since three of the group were African-American and five were Asian, but the other two were Chinese, most of whom don't tend to eat a lot of cephalopod. I liked this very much, Carlos thought it was good, Sandy was okay with it but preferred the okonomiyaki.

Tako okonomiyaki: Octopus for people that don't like octopus! I don't know if there was actually any octopus in it, you certainly couldn't taste it for all the various ingredients in it. It's a very pretty dish - check out the Yelp photos to see the starburst pattern the kitchen forms with their teriyaki glaze and kewpie mayo, with a tiny heap of katsuobushi waving its tasty little bonita shreds in the center. Okonomiyaki can be lightened up in texture with a slurry of dashi and potato starch, and that's just what they do here, to the point where the eggs are barely enough to keep the pancake together. With the thick drizzle of sauces, the center falls apart when you try to pick it up with chopsticks. 

Filling this pancake are generous amounts of sautéed green onion and shredded radish, which add to the soft texture. Sandy and Eddie (who is Chinese) loved this one, and one of the African-American women, Celeste, did too. Carlos and I were okay with it but not big fans. He prefers his Korean seafood pancake, Haemul Sundubu Jjigae; while I prefer the elegant okonomiyaki Shotaro Kamio does at Iyasare/Berkeley.

Yaki onigiri: I've never liked this and probably never will. This was low quality rice pressed into the traditional triangle, sprinkled with white sesame seeds and grilled. Since I'm not a mochi lover, any rice that forms a chewy crust just leaves me cold. Several people loved them, however.

Chicken tender oysters with Meyer lemon: These were a unanimous hit. The "oyster", which resides next to the spine at the juncture of chicken thigh/hip joint, is never exercised and is always tender. It's barely the size of the top joint of your thumb. A number of them are skewered, brushed with the teriyaki glaze (which isn't thickened so in grilling it's hardly noticeable), and grilled very quickly. There's no caramelization, but conversely they are still juicy. Squeezed with lemon, and optionally dipped in the red pepper flakes, everybody gave these a thumb's-up.

Summary:
Well...it's a Millennial pop-up, so it's exactly what you'd envision. This is the 2015 version of a 1950's Beatnik dive, or a 1960's hippie hangout, or a 1980's punk-grunge cave. The music is loud, the art is indistinguishable from graffiti except for not being as good. The plating is minimal, relying more on visual impressions of quantity (there's a lot of raw cabbage diced and shredded as filler). One sauce, Abura-Ya's own miso-ranch, does multiple duty on a number of dishes; on salads as a dressing, and on the dry-fried karaages as a side dip. It's tasty, which is what counts.

The food is limited to what appeals nowadays; e.g., glorified bar food. This is a pop-up, after all – the owners have day jobs to pay the bills. It's all small plates. Never mind that one is not always distinguishable from another. It is fried (although not greasy except for the onion), and well-salted. When taken as a whole meal, it is a photo opportunity of slightly over-the-top excess that joyously flouts all FDA nutritional guidelines.

Thus, it is not much different from some of the food we have gotten from much more expensive bistros, at 4x the cost.

Although we both agreed we wouldn't go back, Abura-Ya has some positives. They remove all the chicken skin (which is why there's no wings on the menu), and thus almost all the fat (which doesn't make up for the fat used in deep-frying, but anything helps). Carlos was especially appreciative of this; he dislikes chicken skin intensely unless it's as crisp as a cracker with all the fat rendered off; e.g., similar to Peking Duck. If you come early enough when those padded armchairs are empty, two people can have decent bar food for cheap in relative quiet and privacy.

The beverages are limited (they are working on a beer license) but they do have Mexican Coke and unflavored bottled Pellegrino, both pluses in our eyes, which Carlos and I ordered. 

The food comes out pretty fast but they weren't that crowded for a Thursday evening. They will bus your table after you're finished, which is helpful. So do tip them something; they're all nice people and happy that you found them.

Coming to Abura-Ya gave me a better insight into where Millennial chefs are coming from. It doesn't take much of a leap to go from Abura-Ya's crammed-in fusion to Shakewell's four-sauces-on-a-plate; or the Etoile lunch chef who felt if an aggressive onion agrodulce was a good accompaniment as a tablespoonful, then three spoonfuls must necessarily be three times better. 

It also gives insight into the upper levels of cuisine, where chefs like Douglas Keane fall in love with the precision and elegance of upper-level Japanese cuisine, resulting in my oft-mentioned quarter-sized disk of pork teriyaki in a $250/pp tasting menu at Cyrus in 2010. 

Both are extremes and neither one is how we like to eat. Small plates are a great way to try many dishes at a new restaurant. But when push comes to shove Carlos and I prefer a more cohesive three- or four-course dinner. It takes more thought, more care, and more creativity. Yet it is also more satisfying to the stomach and the soul, in the same way that the eye prefers to see good symmetry even if the objects are not identical.

James Syhabout's failure with the recent Box and Bells/Oakland was emblematic of this trend towards the extreme/over-the-top. Chowhounders, who are as in love with small plates as everybody else, remarked it was really hard to build a balanced meal from his menu, because everything had meat and was generally salty and/or fatty. Although they loved certain dishes, people didn't return because unconsciously or consciously, they didn't want that heavy, 'loggy' feeling that comes from eating such unbalanced food on a regular basis. 

Even Carlos, who is more of a carnivore than most people, will opt for seafood or salads if we are going out a lot (such as when we travel). You just don't want so much meat, grease, and salt all the time, no matter what your daily diet.

But back to Abura-Ya. If you like karaage, you could do worse than come here and enjoy a couple of those flavors. It's not the best fried chicken we've ever had, but it's good and for value it's hard to beat. There were some interesting salads, such as the traditional wakame (seaweed), but also a roasted beet and arugula salad with that tasty miso-ranch dressing that sounded interesting. Each of the karaage flavors, btw, can be ordered with 4 pieces of chicken as a rice bowl, for a one-dish meal.

If you can get there when they open, parking is quite easy on the street starting from 5:30p up to about 8p, when the night action at the bar across the street begins. Remember, they don't take reservations: first to order, first served.

Eight people: four orders of the eight-piece karaage, two of the cauliflower, two of the wasabi coleslaw, two of the chicken thigh oyster skewers, two of the yaki onigiri, one each of the tako poke and tako okonomiyaki, along with five beverages and a modest $17 tip, came to $17/pp.