Maru San Review - Carlos Delgado's Exclusive Japanese-Peruvian Tasting Menu Worth The Trip

I don’t live far from our nation’s capital—I certainly don’t live close. But when you get a text from a friend at 11:17am on a weekday asking you the odds that you can make the trip up to D.C. for a reservation for The Experience at Maru San at 7pm, you move some meetings around and you make it work.

Maru San is a buzzy new Nikkei cuisine restaurant in Eastern Market that has had the city in a chokehold for months. The restaurant consists of a single counter with about 25 seats—four of which are reserved for The Experience, a 15-course tasting menu with only one seating a night, four times a week (as of the release of this article, I believe they have opened up their schedule to include more nights of the week). The exclusivity of this experience and the buzz around the restaurant—a partnership of Chef Carlos Delgado of Causa and Chef Simon Lam previously of Tiger Fork—ensures that this tasting menu is booked solid for months in advance. It’s no question then that when a spot opened up in my friend’s reservation because his wife was sick and his mom was out of town, I raced my way through the I-95 traffic to fill in.

Does it hurt to know I’m not first on his shortlist? Honestly, I’m just happy to be in the line of succession. His wife is feeling better and his mom’s trip was good, rest assured.

The first thing you see when you walk through the front door of Maru San is the counter—well actually, more accurately its the only thing you see. It’s not a very big location. It’s brooding and atmospheric—dim lighting, black brick flooring. Cherry wooden walls with a cool painting of a giant octopus looming on the ceiling over the backwall of the counter. The main source of lighting in the restaurant are some overhead bulbs above the diners and lighting strips under the countertop that illuminate the tabletop shelf.

I should start this review with a few complaints/observations before I proceed to gush. Bear with me. These are all I could come up with. Let’s neg them a bit, shall we? (Skip if uninterested in my restroom complaints).

The Experience occupies the first four seats in the restaurant closest to the front door. It is a minor complaint admittedly, but I felt for the first hour or so while the sun was still out that I lost some of that atmosphere being so exposed to both the setting sun peering through the window in the front of the restaurant, and to the customers coming in begging for a seat that didn’t exist for them. The only other option would be to stick the tasting menu guests at the other end of the counter, deeper into the restaurant. The downside there is now you’ve got all the traffic of the people entering and exiting the restroom.

Which leads us to the restroom. This odyssey was completely on me. I was warned. But it’s worth telling. Our waiter gave us a restroom acknowledgment. I think what happened was that I heard him say “it’s a bit of a hike” and in my mind I said, “this is not information I need to hold on to—it’s a restroom, how hard can it be; it’s in the back somewhere” and then I tuned him out.

And then I realized after a very long time that he was still talking to us about the restroom acknowledgement, which at this point can only truly be accurately referred to as a restroom lowdown. Where I perceived there to be no important bullet points to know about this restroom, the restaurant disagreed. And, I would learn, with good reason.

I did indeed want to go to the restroom. It’s good practice after handling the filthy railings in the Metro to go wash your hands before you consume high-quality handrolls. But at that point I was too proud to ask for a reiteration of the restroom presentation, so I sought out my own adventure.

It turns out this restroom is not in the restaurant itself. It’s shared by the other commercial tenants of the building, and thus it was very much a hike through a labyrinth of hallways. I felt dizzyingly like the characters of Severance walking down an endless maze of hallways following signs to a restroom that never came. Finally, it did come, and it was at that point that I realized there was a keypad and that somewhere in the restroom lecture I didn’t listen to there was a code that was given that was nowhere in the recesses of my mind.

So, I stared stupidly at the keypad, weighing out the relativity of the total of four-number combinations I’d need to break in versus admitting defeat and retreating back to the dining room to ask for the code again.

Then a woman came by to use the women’s restroom. She knew her code. I asked her if she happened to know the men’s restroom code. I got judgmental vibes from her about me not knowing my code like “Did you not listen to the whole spiel?”. And then she offered to let me use the women’s restroom when she was done, which feels like a brash defilement of the reason for the keypad. But that was nice of her. I hoped she would stand guard or at least explain to any women coming through that there’s a moron in there that doesn’t listen to things he’s told. She did neither of those things, but thankfully nobody came through and I avoided having to explain myself again for something I didn’t fully understand myself. I’m sure the others looking to use the restroom were busy working their way through the maze and had just gotten lost. So, incident avoided.

The Experience

When I got back to my seat it was time for the experience to begin. The other couple was now seated too. Incidentally, they were also there as replacements for someone who had to drop out. It speaks to the exclusivity of the restaurant I guess that people don’t seem to cancel here.

Our entire meal was prepared and served by Chef Lam himself. Carlos Delgado was not there, but we were in capable hands. I was unfamiliar with his work before Maru San, but I think he’s here to stay. Between preparations we poked and prodded and gleaned some interesting information about the menu and about the inspiration and the story from him. He seems humble, proud, at ease. But he also seemed focused and ready for the moment.

And with good reason. The food was truly sensational. It was creative. It was fun. And everything packed a punch. The whole evening was a three-and-a-half-hour long parade of flex after flex as each course took on a life of its own. I honestly don’t even know where to begin on what I thought was the highlight.

The snacks alone to start the meal were some of the five best bites I think I’ve had in DC in the years I’ve been doing this. Pickled sardine cracker, escargot, crab tempura, octopus handroll, and a scallop with parmesan shavings on a bed of corn. I have in my notes “a journey to awaken the palate”—that, in retrospect, feels like a severe understatement. Every single bite in that procession felt like a left-right combo over and over again. If you weren’t awake before, you certainly were after that.

The chawanmushi that followed was reminiscent of Reverie’s Hug in a Bowl. A custardy, briny cup with a mixture of assorted fishy goods that sticks to your soul. It was warm and inviting, and I died inside when my spoon hit the bottom of the cup because it meant this warm embrace was at an end.

Another standout was the ceviche mixto—a white fish and uni ceviche made with a sauce from the aji amarillo and leche de tigre. This is where that Nikkei inspiration really started to take center stage—and where the balance and the contrast between the two cuisines of influence, the Peruvian and the Japanese, shaped the twists and turns of the menu. Not every dish of course split the influence down the middle 50/50, which made for an interesting journey.

The quintessentially Peruvian elements took the stage on the ceviche mixto, while the Japanese influences were more pronounced in something like the daikon daikon dish that followed. Pickled daikon, grated daikon, shiitake mushrooms, bonito flakes, with a warm broth gently poured on top.

We were presented with a plate of sashimi—a medley of fishes accompanied by sweet, pickled red peppers and a wasabi relish as condiments. I’m a sucker for visualizations during my meal (and I guess after the restroom debacle I’m learning that must mean I’m a visual learner). One of the fishes was a unicorn fish which Chef Lam held up for us to show us the protrusion on the front of the fish that gives it its namesake. I don’t know—I thought that was cool.

Additionally, we were presented with a tiradito on a spoon—a Nikkei presentation where the fish is sliced and served raw with the sauce as opposed to a ceviche which is given time to marinate in the sauce. The smallest of these distinctions shows how much influence a group of people can have on the culture they assimilate into. I was remotely aware of Nikkei as a cuisine, but did not fully appreciate how the influence of Japanese immigrants could have such a profound effect on very traditional dishes. And of all the things I walked away from with Maru San in its storytelling, that really felt like the most poignant.

At this point in the meal the luxury and richness of the procession really cranked up. After the sashimi dishes, we were hit with four handrolls in a row. Handrolls are a classic Nikkei preparation, and at Maru San their handrolls account for the majority of their à la carte menu I would say. That combination of Japanese sushi-making techniques with the bold, citrusy Peruvian flavors felt iconic—our particular procession was caviar, sea urchin, ocean trout, and iberico (although somehow they thought we were pescatarian, so I’m pretty sure we didn’t get the iberico roll; we quickly remedied that confusion, because nobody keeps this man from his meats).

Then came a toro flight which was incredible. The tuna belly monaka, which was very similar to the preparation at Sushi Nakazawa, which you can read about here) was a favorite. But, of course, the king of tuna flights is as we all know the otoro: the fatty tuna. This particular preparation was dotted with a ponzu pomegranate sauce and sat atop a tempura leaf. Oh my God! Beautiful presentation, crunchy, melts like butter in your mouth. And that ponzu pomegranate did a wonderful job of shaving down the edges of the otoro’s richness, making for a much more complete dish than is traditionally experienced with pure otoro.

And finally, to finish off the main courses before dessert was a wagyu a lo pobre, which in itself is a devilishly wonderful juxtaposition between the rich, luxurious wagyu and the ingredients of the poor man (or “a la pobre”), the celery root. I’m glad we got that pesky ol’ pescatarian label shed off of us, because I never want to miss a wagyu dish if I don’t have to. I was ready to argue that wagyu is a special breed of cow that comes from the ocean if I had to.

Next was dessert and at this point Chef Lam pulls out what can only be described as a medieval torture device with big metal spikes. He plops it on the table and walks away. I feverishly pull out my phone to scour the internet to see if there’s any traditions in Peru I’m unaware of that’s going to require one of us to volunteer to stick our hands in the trap with the metal spikes. I like my odds at 25%, but I also don’t want to see my friend get maimed so 50/50 doesn’t feel as good. Plus, I’ve already caused a commotion with the whole restroom thing, and I’m a few drinks in and probably acting a bit of a fool, so I like those odds even less.

Thankfully, Chef Lam returns with a block of ice from a lake in Japan. It’s a shaved ice dish. I exhale. He places the block in the trap and twists the handle which shaves the ice into a bowl underneath. With the ice shaved and the murder instrument removed from the countertop, what returns is a bowl of shaved ice with strawberries and a matcha espuma on top. It’s a gorgeous presentation, and a subtle come down from the rich onslaught of dishes that came before it. It’s refreshing and sweet and a wonderful way to finish the meal—that is, if it was the end of the meal.

The final dessert was a macambo and copoazu chocolate dessert. My ignorance fails me here as I was only really able to pick up that the macambo bean and the copoazu are close relatives to the cacao bean and appear similar to chocolate. Whatever it was specifically, it was a fulfilling way to wrap up the procession. And as someone with a penchant for more chocolate-y desserts, I preferred it more than the shaved ice.

At Maru San when all is said and done, they offer one more handroll of choice on the house for any patrons of The Experience that are still hungry. I don’t know if I would say I was “still hungry” but if the man is going to offer me free food, I’m going to take it. I don’t know if that makes me uncouth, but I was the only one of the four that took Chef Lam up on this offer. I had no real dog in the fight, so chef’s choice it was. What do you recommend for me in this moment?

He came back with acevichado handroll. I don’t know what exactly was in it, but it returned some of the same flavors we had earlier with the ceviche dish so I expect it was created in that ilk. It was delicious like the rest of the meal. And it was a “free” add-on (what’s really a free add-on when you already paid for the meal?).

We were sent home with a lucuma and black sesame loaf cake, which I split with some of the coworkers I abandoned the day before to set out on this adventure. It was delightful. A really nice way to start the day and would have been a nice accompaniment to my morning coffee if I drank that swill.

I am as exhausted writing about this meal as I was by the end of it. A non-stop cavalcade of delicious flavors where there was truly not a single misstep or miss for me. It was an incredible meal that has catapulted its way quickly to near the top of the meals I’ve been blessed to have in DC.

We talked very briefly with Chef Lam and our waiter at the end of the meal about their aspirations. I broached the topic of stars and whether it was something they were aiming for. They were non-committal. Probably because it was 10:30pm and they were ready to clean up and go home. But I’ll say it for them. I would be shocked if this place doesn’t get there this year. It was that good.

Whatever you need to do to secure a reservation to this tasting menu experience, do it. Stay up late when the reservation window opens. Get friends to assist you. Stand outside the restaurant in the rain with a blaring boombox over your head. Just make it happen, because the people at Maru San have really built something special, and special somethings don’t always wait for you.