The Deadly Blowfish: Last Meal in Tokyo?

Blowfish expert Katsuhiko Iizuka eats his dinner -- carefully -- at Tokyo's Tentake restaurant. (By David Nakamura -- The Washington Post)

I take my first bite. Fugu is a white fish, dense and substantial. As I chew, I think about the poison and the risk. But then I notice: Fugu, ironically, has a reputation as bland-tasting, and in this incarnation, I must admit, it tastes almost like chicken. It's not the fish but the hot pepper sauce that bites, creating a stinging sensation on the tongue.

There's little time to ruminate. Out from the kitchen, in quick succession, come: raw fugu, cut so thin as to be transparent in color; slightly pan-seared fugu whose edges are dark but inside is raw, atop a salad of lettuce, corn, daikon and carrot; and fried fugu, served hot with the bone inside and garnished with paprika and a slice of lemon.

The raw fugu is a bit too rubbery for my taste, but the fried dish is flaky with a nice crunch, perhaps the most friendly to American lips reared on fried chicken, shrimp or oysters.

As we eat, Iizuka entertains us with stories, from his days helping at his parents' fish shop in Tokyo's Nakano district to more recent mornings on the Tsukiji dock inspecting fish and selling them at auction. Even now, he starts his days at 3 a.m., as the dawn's first catch makes its way to market.

Fugu season is winter, but even at this summer dinner the dishes keep coming. With a wink, Iizuka even orders us fugu sake -- in which hot sake is poured into a cup containing the fin and tail, then set on fire for a few seconds to burn off a touch of the alcohol. The taste is remarkable, a bit salty but easily more flavorful than a typical rice wine.

For the final course, the waitress places a hot pot in front of us and hands us a plate of raw fugu, tofu and vegetables that we dip into the boiling water briefly with chopsticks. This is known as shabu-shabu , and if you don't finish everything, don't fear: The rest of the broth is sopped up with rice, topped with a runny egg and served as a stomach-bursting risotto-like finale.

Near the end of the meal, the chef, Tsutomu Matsui, wearing a chef's hat imprinted with fugu drawings, joins us. An instructor at the fugu house at Tsukiji market, Matsui is less talkative than Iizuka but has a devilish sense of humor.

Surveying the empty plates, I sit back in my chair and, with my return trip to Washington set for the following morning, announce: "This is a great last meal for me."

To which Matsui responds: "It might really be the last meal for you. The last supper."

Tentake (6-16-6 Tsukiji Chuo-Ku, Tokyo, 011-81-3- 3541-3881) is a seven-minute walk from Tsukiji station, on the Hibiya subway line. The set course meals are $38.50, $55.50 and $115 per person.

David Nakamura covers D.C. government issues for The Post's Metro section and travels to Japan as often as he can, primarily to eat.