Right now, nearly a day’s drive from the caldera of Mount Akagi, the 31,000-year-old stratovolcano in the Gunma Prefecture of Japan, 1,200 or so wagyu cattle are likely roaming around in the clean air. Some will continue their luxurious stay. They’ll munch and rest, a quiet 800 miles from the base of the mountain. But one of the cows, its marbling as white as snow, might become the most surprising thing one could imagine of the breed: a cheesesteak in Dallas, Texas.
The certificate that authenticates the cattle from the ranch in Toriyama includes the inkprint of the cow’s nose. That’s one way Jimmy Niwa, owner of Niwa Japanese BBQ in Dallas, knows his wagyu ― the real stuff ― is special. The other is the immaculate, big-as-the-moon flavor. Also, Niwa BBQ is the only restaurant in the state of Texas that serves Toriyama wagyu.
Niwa and his team made Toriyama’s mountain cattle into a cheesesteak, and it wasn’t intentional.
It’s been a year since Niwa started selling Toriyama wagyu. They’ve tried different things, including cuts that reach A4 on the grading scale. One idea was to coarse-grind it, shape it into a patty, and grill up a hamburger that would probably be a beef punch as hard as an uppercut from Captain America.
“We were about to grind it up, but, man, this just looks too pretty,” Niwa says. Instead, they temper the wagyu until it’s just above freezing, then slice it into thin ribbons. Niwa and executive chef John Paul Alcocer collaborated on the rest of the cheesesteak dish.
There are Peruvian teardrop peppers for relish and a mushroom puree that cooks in a little bit of butter. The onions simmer with a fistfull of good Japanese mushrooms. The cheese is the lavish deathblow: They cover the mixture of mushrooms-onions-peppers with a black-pepper-and-garlic-infused caciotta ― a soft Italian cheese ― from Deep Ellum’s own Mozzarella Co. They toast the bun until it’s crackling in some of that mushroom butter.
“I wish we could say we got it [the bun] from somewhere special, but we get it from Central Market. If ain’t broken ...” Niwa says, chuckling.
The end result is a $14 cheesesteak (they may knock down the price in the future) to challenge every cheesesteak purist out there. It’s not umbrella-long like most cheesesteaks: Niwa’s is about 5 inches. It’s both humble and opulent. Breaking through the bread, finding the smoky-char of the wagyu, you won’t need more. The bread cracks, the ribboned edges of the beef, seared until it has an imperceptible crust, melts into the cheese as rapidly and neatly as ice would on a hot pan. The mushrooms have enormous, sky-rocketing umami.
The whole sandwich is a stunner. It’s both unpretentious, somehow, and a lightning-strike of shocking elegance. With the grill volcano-hot (there are always sizzling sounds at Niwa), Alcocer simply treats the wagyu with a quick sear. There’s no added salt. The quartz-like marbling melts, and they don’t even need oil in the pan.
Niwa compliments the sandwich with hot honey mustard ― a deepening heat you feel at the center of your mind ― from Japanese mustard. It’s worth sinking the entire sub.
“We were joking about it being a sellout cheesesteak,” Niwa says, “But the thing is, when we ate, we just said whatever.“
So, yes, cheesesteak aficionados, leave your Cheez Whiz on the doorstep for today. You won’t need it. You want this sandwich.
Niwa Japanese BBQ, 2939 Main St., Dallas. niwabbq.com.