Omakase On Me

Before we get into the food, we need to address the 15 minutes between our arrival and the beginning of dinner. I don't expect that most reviews will take on a story form, but this one must.

My fiancée and I arrived for our 7:30pm dinner reservation around 7:20pm, as one should for pretty much any dinner reservation that they have, but especially for an omakase restaurant that has three seatings per night that all depend heavily on the timeliness of the guests. We might as well get it out of the way now, but there is some portion of the population that seems to think the time of your dinner reservation is the window between the time you scheduled it for and the 15 minutes you are typically granted before your reservation is cancelled. If that is you, you are an asshole.

We were the only ones there, and the host kindly pointed us to a couch where we could wait for our dinner to get started. About 5 minutes later, the protagonist of this story arrived, and the fun began. She stormed in - no 'hi' nor 'how you doing' - immediately telling the host that they need better signage, then going straight to the bathroom. I thought about writing this review without her, but she became as much the story that night as the food was.

While she was in the bathroom, we did what any two people would do in this situation, rolled our eyes and laughed. We were both pretty hungry and probably being more rude than was appropriate, but it was an absurd entrance. The internet seemed to give off the impression that this place was fairly interactive, so beyond my disgust with the attitude, I genuinely started to worry how her presence might impact our experience. That's when we looked up and realized that across the 14 seats the restaurant has in the space, only four of them had place settings. Fuck me.

Our protagonist emerged from the bathroom, then went to the host and told them about how much she loved the place and that she had been there a few times already. Clearly not enough to remember where the fuck it was located, but enough to have enjoyed it I guess. This is when I realized that her entrance was not intended to be rude; she is just insane. After about 5 more minutes of waiting, the clock passing 7:30, and the host politely asking our friend if her guest would be arriving soon, he arrived, and dinner began.

To provide some context for the vibe of this place, the walls are littered with commentary in sharpie that are written by the guests after they participate in the 16-course tasting that includes...unlimited sake. There is a record player in the corner with some album covers above them and music playing at a slightly elevated level. And there is a lighting show, for lack of better description, going on in the entire space. Between the walls, the lighting, the already-poured shots of sake, and the music playing, the tone is set early. And you know what? If you are looking to have a good time, it is a great tone. They know exactly what they want to be, and they be it from start to finish.

Not long after getting seated, chef introductions, a description of the process, and a first round of sake shots, the first dish arrives. Of course, a lot of omakase experiences can be fairly simple. Put good fish on rice, maybe lightly add some soy sauce, potentially a hint of wasabi, and hand it to the patron. You do this enough times with good enough fish and they leave happy. Because this place was a lot less traditional, they used the first few dishes to push the boundary a bit.

It can be hard not to question the stunts that were leveraged here, but like I said, this place knows what they are, and they aren't hiding from it. I actually think this worked in their favor in that respect. At one point, they infused a dish with what I believe - from the chef's commentary and the smell in the air - was weed smoke while The Next Episode blasted above. It worked.

These first few dishes didn't blow me away, but they were solid. The balloon-into-smoke dish contained far more amberjack than I needed at the time, something not particularly worth complaining about given you are getting more food. But the course itself was mostly just fine, and I certainly reached a point where I polished it off for appearances rather than interest. During this phase of the dinner, the chef really drove home the "but first, sake!" bit. I enjoyed this because I certainly felt less guilt about wanting to polish one off before every course, and it must work to get some folks out of their shell a little. You just cannot have people at a dinner like this who are reluctant to enjoy the charade. The easiest way to get them to buy in is to get them hammered. I'll admit to being a bit concerned with the potential for 16 courses continuing in this manner, particularly after the opening bread-heavy uni and caviar dish, but we got to the regularly scheduled programming fairly quickly.

Phase 1 featured some introductions to our friends, who we will call Linda and Terry, mostly because I don't think I am personally acquainted with any Lindas or Terrys. Early introductions and chatter were mostly innocuous, but the conversation quickly picked up as more sake shots went down. The chef himself started slowing down the "but first, sake" introductions to each course, for good reason I suspect, so I took it upon myself to do this. After the first attempt, Linda said, "OK, Sam, you little fraternity brother." This hurt me to my core, and the first attempt became my last. Not only is it untrue, but all I fucking did was say what the chef was saying! I shouldn't dog Linda too much, as I came around on her in an impossible-to-describe kind of way, but this phase of dinner was littered with conversation about her attending the same K through 12 private school as Nancy Reagan and the Pritzker kids, how her agent couldn't make it so she invited Terry instead, her new podcast, her publicist emailing her 100s of questions, and an exchange of Instagrams with my fiancée that resulted in a VIP invitation to her podcast launch party. We will absolutely be attending.

The food really began to shine here. The next 5 to 8 courses were just nigiri after nigiri, and there were plenty of good ones. The otoro, the snapper, and the mackerel all stood out to me. The only bite that I didn't love was the amberjack, so maybe it wasn't the amount of amberjack in the smokey dish that I disliked but rather amberjack itself. At one point, the chef let Linda light some fish herself, and it went on for long enough that I grew concerned. The chef knew what he was doing though, and I am ashamed that I even thought to question him. By this point in the experience, you will be pretty drunk, which clicked right around the time my fiancée took over the group sake shot responsibilities.

I clearly missed some dishes, which I hope reads as a testament to my priorities. We are on to the final two dishes, a handroll and a dessert. Linda was pretty fucked up at this point, she had basically gone silent and didn't seem to be eating much of the final 4 to 5 courses. The chef wisely recommended some water. Before complete silence set in, we learned that her friend, Terry, was actually an ex-boyfriend. She called him "hot, but super nerdy," then proceeded to describe how that is what she is trying to look for now. The four of us laughed, but I fear only three of us appreciated the irony. It was perfect.

The handroll was good, as was the dessert. Nothing particularly meaningful to say about either, and again, if you are doing this right, you probably aren't as appreciative of the flavors in these as you might be in a different context.

When we first arrived, it reminded me of a popular place in NYC that I had never been, Tokyo Record Bar. At Tokyo Record Bar, I believe the patrons get the opportunity to select the music themselves, whereas here, the chefs chose it and coordinated it - at least to some degree - with the courses. I was in the snob phase of having strong restaurant opinions at the time in NYC, so I assumed Tokyo Record Bar was just a classic NYC gimmick where the food would suffer. Although maybe true in some respects, this experience reminded me just how dumb and ignorant I was then. There is space enough in the restaurant world for all sorts of experiences, and as long as you get the balance right, it can work.

For 149 USD per person, Omakase On Me did that. The chefs do a fantastic job of creating and nurturing the environment, the sake is legitimately unlimited, and the food is good. It goes without saying that you won't get as much enjoyment from this experience if you don't drink or you do but hate fun. By the same token, you probably get more from the food - which is what you are primarily paying for - if you show better restraint than we did. That said, the food isn't spectacular, but it is good enough to work well with the bit rather than need to be covered up by it. The whole thing is contrived, but they lean in, and you'll barely remember to care by the time you are drunk enough not to. The best way to do this has to be by using as many available seats as possible for a group of friends, but truth be told, it worked really well as only the four of us. We weren't caught between conversations with multiple groups of people, we weren't overwhelmed by a large group of friends who knew each other and seemed to be having a better time than we could create on our own, and Linda turned out to be genuinely kind and fun in her own way.

If you are reading this, "Linda," I can't wait for the launch party. I hope we still have an invite.