PicoBlog

Before it became an item on the menu, before foodies and restaurants sang it acapella style, like children in a candy store, the word ‘omakase’ used to mean something.

Obviously, everyone knows the literal meaning now:
‘up to you’.
The chef’s choice, menu, and table.
To serve the best, freshest ingredients in the way he or she sees fit.

Tell me then, what is the difference between an ‘omakase’ menu and a ‘degustation’ menu?

While you have a think, let’s imagine.

Imagine it’s the 80s, and you’re a Japanese man in Ginza, one of the world’s most expensive places to have sushi. Using all your connection with your boss, your job title, you finally land a booking at this exclusive sushi bar. Even with your high-paying peak-bubble job, you whistle at the price. 12-piece nigiris for an arm, 15-piece nigiris for a leg, 20-piece nigiris for an organ, and a future newborn for sake pairing.

You calculated the cost price per sushi vs the amount of honey you’ll receive from your date tonight, despite what the world thinks, it’s actually rare for a Japanese to have sushi in a sushi bar. This is your first in two years. This better be worth it.

An old man wanders in, wearing a cashmere scarf and leather gloves. He looks at the menu and told the master directly he wants nothing of the set meals. Instead, he wants snapper, kingfish, followed by squid, clam, then tuna, tuna belly, giant fish roe, if he really liked that tuna belly, two more of those, he wants to try the sea urchin, a raw prawn, also a cucumber roll, finish with the egg roll, and green tea. He’s gone ala carte.

He is the man you aspire to be. Not only because he isn’t bound by the menu or the price, but because he’s experienced enough to know what he wants, confident enough to not fear what he’s missing out.

A true gourmet.

Then, an old lady walks in.

The manager hands her the menu, and she simply gave the menu back.

“Toshi, I’ve eaten everything on this menu. You know what I like, just give me whatever, I trust you.”

Now both you and the old man are in shock. This is a hundred thousand yen establishment and you just gave them the freedom to charge you whatever. What if they serve you twenty tuna bellies for two hundred thousand yen? Worse, what if they serve you cucumber rolls for three hundred thousand yen?

The person that is sweating profusely is Toshi the sushi chef. Lady Saeko has indeed eaten everything on the menu, that’s true. But everything else - understanding what she likes, giving her whatever, that last three words ‘I trust you’ pierced his heart like her smile, a stiletto dagger.

If it’s you, a noob with only the desire to impress, who can’t tell the difference between an akami or bintoro, Toshi would gladly take your newborn without hesitation. But when it’s someone like Lady Saeko, it is a challenge, a test of his memory, his ingredients, his skills, judgment, and reputation. He has to come up with a menu on the spot that is worthy of her approval.

Lady Saeko is the final boss to every sushi chef in a Japanese sushi bar.

Omakase is not something you can choose from the menu. It is the activation code for ‘I’m coming in with a blank check, surprise me, show me what’ve you got. Or else.’

Only a few can afford it, fewer can pull it off.

Here’s the other twist - Lady Saeko has to eat whatever Toshi serves her. This is the binding contract of ‘I trust you’. Even if Toshi serves her blowfish sperm, whale, snails, the diaphragm of a chicken, eyeballs… she has to trust that Toshi knows what he’s doing.

In the context of old-fashioned Japanese values, the word omakase is terminally misrepresented in Australia.

When I first heard there was this place offering ramen omakase in Sydney, I was almost excited, like, I sit down, and you serve me a ‘surprise’ ramen, a chef’s ramen, a special ramen, a one-of-a-kind ramen? Or is it six bowls of nothing but ramen?

The reveal was you get a chawanmushi, a korokke, some sashimi, a bowl of ramen of your own choice, and a dessert, for $85 pp.

This has nothing to do with ramen or omakase; but a glorified set meal.

In 2023, ‘omakase’ is a Japanese buzzword for ‘give me your money’.

And ‘degustation’ is French for ‘give me your money, imbecile’.

And then last month, I was commissioned to shoot two new omakase joints, and I had to do a full 180 right?

Because nothing buys my principles like money.

Every time it’s on the gram I’ll receive messages like ‘was it really any good?’ ‘worth it?’ ‘honestly, what do you think?’ ‘They’re not Japanese, right?’

I think it’s a little ironic how in the 90s, people will say all Japanese restaurants are owned by Chinese or Koreans like it was a bad thing.

Now we have younger Korean chefs starting their own Japanese restaurants.

Only this time, Koreans are cool.

What do I think?

I think they’re both good restaurants by Melbourne standards.

Back in the 80s, there is a severe lack of Japanese chefs in Australia. I mean, those who could, have gone to America - New York, LA etc where they could get paid more for their skills. Just like how in the early 00s all the best Hong Kong dimsum sifus migrated to New Zealand. Man, Auckland hargows were really something back then.

Nowadays, it’s not that we don’t have Japanese in Australia, the Japanese want nothing to do with sushi. They’re surfing and making ramen, like Ryo in Crows Nest, Toshi the head coffee roster in Market Lane, my friend Satoshi making shokupan and croissants in Brunswick. The OG Tetsuya, who brought ocean trout to the menu, has sold his business to Singapore and now shaking legs in Las Vegas.

The ryokan/shokunin education, where you wash dishes for two years, then wash rice for another two, only to tenderise the octopus legs for another three is not appealing at all. I wish everyone would look back at the Jiro sushi documentary as textbook material for parental abuse - enslaving your children’s future to become a sushi chef just because. And because the elders are really bad at teaching without resounding to an elbow to the ribs or a punch to the face, who’s left to pass the batons to?

The other migrants. The people who cared to stay on.

The current gos on social media sound like the beginning of a joke - a Korean, a Chinese, and a French are arguing about who made Japanese ‘premium sushi box’ first, in Melbourne.

But this is the reality of a melting pot society.

Sushi, they uh, find a way.

Should we really care if sushi’s done the right way by the right people, or should we just be happy that someone wants to make sushi for us?

If tradition is so important, why aren’t they putting any effort into training the next generation?

And this is what food media doesn’t cover: are the chefs happy?

We only ask the question when it’s too late. When the restaurant is shutting down, when there’s a class action, when they’re burnt out.

Both places I shot, Matsu and Aoi Tsuki, my unofficial write-up for Uminono last year - they all seem pretty excited and happy to do what they do, Japanese or not.

Stoked to run a shop, be their own bosses, and entertain customers.

This is their wonder years, before the nasty customers come in and beat down their spirits.

So if you can, you should book a table.
If you’re really keen on supporting the local chefs, Australian produce, local businesses and what not.

The real currency of fine dining, or any great dining experience, is relationship.

For me, it was 2010 Beatrix, where there was only one sandwich on the lunch menu, and we trusted Nat.

My friend Satoshi, who would bring me any leftover pastry from his shop and I’d happily put it into Hana’s lunchbox.

Yu.u , the first secret hidden Japanese restaurant along Flinders Lane, with only one lunch item every weekday.

For most people, that’s their mum’s cooking.
Your local cafe, takeaway restaurants.

Sure, if you don’t have time to build it, you can spend thousands to fly to Japan, then another grand or so to book a restaurant in Japan. But surely you can see the bigger picture. The winners of chasing ‘authenticity’, will always be airline companies, tire companies, energy companies, and landlords.

The true meaning of ‘omakase’ is the friends you make along the way.

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