The almost impossible to get into restaurant

Yotsuba 四叶
2 Xinyuan Xili Zhongjie, Xindong Lu, Chaoyang District 朝阳区新东路新源西里中街2号
☎ 6467-1837

Say what one will about the government, most of us can agree that Beijing's dining scene is pretty democratic. That is, there are very few restaurants in town that require you to have a reservation, let alone couture clothing or esteemed status as the royal of some European country, to eat there. In Beijing you can just breeze on in to hundreds of critically renowned restaurants in your ripped up jeans or last night s sweatshirt and have a grand old time.
Not at Yotsuba.

It's not that Yotsuba is elitist. There is no dress code. Two factors prevent you from sampling the goods and they are good any time you choose: the restaurant is closet-sized, seating perhaps twenty people at maximum, and the sushi is so delicious that what tables exist are constantly booked. For months I tried to reserve a table to no avail. Then, one day, hallelujah!
Yotsuba serves primarily sushi and sashimi, with little attention to other Japanese fare: rolls, noodles, stews, and the like. A starter of conch shell meat was sparsely seasoned but refreshing and sweet. With it we drank a tiny but crisp and smooth bottle of Jyouzen-Nizuno-Gotoshi sake. A plate of sashimi was meltingly tender and subtle, intriguing combinations of cuts without a trace of fishiness or oiliness.

But it was an unassuming looking piece of sushi that proved the real revelation of the evening. O-toro is considered to be the absolute choicest part of the deep-sea tuna, and a piece of it looks something like pork or beef, heavily marbled with fat. Now, I am sure that the o-toro I ate that night at Yotsuba was not the choicest, most amazing piece of o-toro the world ever produced. This isn't Tokyo, after all. But it was so luscious and succulent, so totally beyond regular sushi tuna (maguro), that, well, who cares?

If you don't succeed at first at getting a table at this adorable-looking, intimate little place, try again. You won't be disappointed.

One taste is all it takes.