Previous SlideNext Slide

Is it worth queuing 40-minutes beside five lanes of city traffic for a viral Japanese deep-fried sandwich? The answer, if you’ve passed the top half of Harris Street in Ultimo this month, appears for many people to be “yes”.

Age.3, one of Japan’s most famous sandwich shops, opened a Sydney outpost in mid-March. For the first week or so, queues lasted two hours. Crowd fervour was so high that a team of white-capped Age.3 staff could be seen nimbly chaperoning people away from the hurtling cars and whizzing e-bikes just metres from store’s front door.

At times, the line for this tiny shop’s sandwiches snaked along the street and into a nearby alleyway. Social media was awash with influencers breaking apart crisp, golden triangles of deep-fried shokupan milk-bread to show layers of whipped cream with various sweet fillings, or assemblages of tuna mayo, grilled cheese, curry, chicken namban, egg salad, noodles and more.

Last week, the queue had lessened to about 40-minutes. Shorter but still a long time to wait for a sandwich, viral or not. So, are they worth it?

The best way to settle this is to avoid the queues. I drove past Age.3 five times over four days and determined that the least busy time to visit was after 4.30pm. You could line up from 10.30am (which I witnessed people doing one Saturday morning) and still claim first in the door. But sauntering in during the late afternoon without the crowds feels easier, and removes the dizzying effect of prolonged anticipation.

Age.3’s shop is a bright, modern, welcoming space with plenty of attentive staff members checking if you need help with the menu and its 32 sandwich options. You can watch the kitchen crew working like billy-o to make the sangers, or watch a screen showing Age.3’s founder and head chef, Kohei Matsushita, cutting towers of fried bread in sweeping, dramatic shots akin to Mission: Impossible stunt footage.

Until recently, Matushita was in there too, having flown to Sydney to lead the kitchen’s early days. After inventing the sandwiches at Fruits Sand Three, a shop in Fukuoka, he has also overseen Age. 3 (pronounced “ah-geh-san” a Japanese word-play for “deep-fried” and “sando”) stores opening in Tokyo, Shanghai and Hong Kong.

I order six varieties of the sandwich. The bread is cooked in hot bubbling oil, before being cut diagonally, sliced open and packed with fillings.

Each is a glistening boat with fancy cargo. I’ve chosen sweet whipped cream (only $3), ganache matcha, pistachio, creme brulee, tsukimi teriyaki and chicken namban (at $12.50 the most expensive option).

The savoury fillings are best. The namban’s sweet-and-sour battered chicken pieces on creamy egg salad just edges out the teriyaki option. The latter’s mix of strong flavoured mini-burger with gooey half-boiled egg is nicely chewy but seems too salty.

Then it’s dessert in hyperdrive. The creme brulee’s glazed top covers a fat custard heart, and the plain whipped cream, although teeth-janglingly sweet, is a good match with the fried bread. Ganache matcha and pistachio sandwiches are pretty, with chocolatey cubes and speckled nuts respectively, but the amount of cream may wear you down.

After eating two savoury and four sweet versions, each wrapped in special greaseproof paper pockets, I can say that the winning element is the bread.

With a texture that conjures up doughnuts, the crunchy coating of a battered sav, and bread pan-fried in butter, Age.3’s sandos are best with less filling. Consider removing three-quarters of the cream (or half the fried chicken), ordering the coffee “einspanner” cold brew, and focusing on the crunchy golden-fried dough between sips instead. Perhaps not worth a 40-minute wait, but certainly worth a late afternoon drive-by.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.