Omakase Room By Mitsu

Thoughts running through the brain like wild horses…

Let’s start with the good thoughts.

Few sushiya in NYC occupy more real estate in my Instagram DMs than Omakase Room By Mitsu. 

Mitsu himself – the Itamae of the 10 seat sushi counter – is a polarizing figure. Some love him, others find his style and personality abrasive.

Me? I’m in the former. I thought he was engaging, polite and accommodating. During my seating, two strangers requested rice changes and ingredient substitutions, neither of which was a problem. Another diner decided to finish her work in the corner rather than enjoy the first 5 courses at the counter. Mitsu-san prepared the sushi for her separately, and presented them to her – with a smile – when she sat down. I know some Itamae that would have gone full Cowboy Joe West.

Also I’m a little skeptical about the bad reviews

This one specifically:

This isn’t a steakhouse. You don’t pick the temperature your food is served at. If you’re asking the Itamae to blowtorch your sushi – and then getting mad when told no – sushi (and decent society) may not be for you.

On the other hand, that name…

If it sounds familiar, that’s because it’s part of a chain…nay, a concept…called Omakase Room. There’s an Omakase Room By Shin (midtown), an Omakase Room by Kanemaru (Chicago), and the since-shuttered Omakase Room By Tatsu, helmed by Tatsuya Sekiguchi. He’s opened his own sushiya in Dallas, and his former space is now Mitsu.

There’s also an Omakase Room by Maaser; it’s not part of the Omakase Room Cinematic Universe (their website), but it is 5 minutes away from Mitsu.

Two unaffiliated Omakase Rooms close together. We need Judge Judy.

I’m not an expert – or even barely literate – on trademark law, but I’m pretty sure it exists to prevent consumer confusion.

Also worth pointing out that usually companies copy good names; Omakase Room is, regrettably, nonsense. More specifically, it’s a naked attempt to brand and monetize high-end sushi. It’s corporate goop.

No surprise given that the Omakase Room parent seems to be ‘The Group Hospitality’ (another award-winning name), which runs Boucherie, a dozen or so pseudo-french steakhouses, and Olio E Piu, a series of trattorie.

That corporatization leaks into the ancillary menus

Start with the wine list. If you, like me, prefers wine by the glass, good luck; the options are limited and more expensive than daycare tuition (which is very pricy, why did no one tell me). I’m sure some wine snob will tell me the ’23 Chardonnay got 143 gold stars on Wine Spectator, but I prefer my wine cheap and in bag form.

And then there’s the a la carte

These are prices that okonomi courses command at Sushi Sho, New York’s best sushiya – in my opinion – that sources seasonal and rare delicacies, not Ocean Trout.

But people ultimately come here for the Omakase

Duh. And there, Mitsu mostly shines, thanks to its effervescent Itamae. Though it’s a pricy $220 for 14 courses, there’s not many sushiya in this range that have its variety.

Now, the rice did start a little shaky. Temperature off, way too firm. I think I even wrote “uh oh” in my notes (yes, I take notes. Why is it called The Sushi Legend? That’s why.).

But it turned around quickly. Sometimes when you’re in the late seating – as I was – you catch the tail end of a batch.

A word on Katsuo (skipjack)

Katsuo is known for having two seasons: spring, when it leaves to spawn, is called Hatsu-gatsuo. Fall, when it returns, is called Modori-gatsuo, and like me in university, it returns from its time away nice and fat. This was called modori-gatsuo, and it was certainly delicious, just don’t ask any questions how that all works in the height of summer.

Mitsu-san’s technique really ramps with the seventh course. Not a common NYC Zuke (marinated tuna); instead, prior to marination, he briefly – very briefly – cooks the tuna, a dish called Yushimo-no-zuke. This is a traditional technique; according to the seminal Edomae Sushi, blanching it first allows the nikiri marinade to penetrate the tuna more easily, producing a more intense flavour.

The best looking course of the night, is also the neta that far too many New York City sushiya won’t – or can’t – serve. Kohada (gizzard shad), best starting in August, is a staple of traditional sushi.

I wasn’t inclined to order more, but then I was told the Shime saba ($26) was especially good. That baby is my favourite neta, but I should have known better. Saba is technically in-season year-round, but ma-saba (king of mackerel) is in season starting in September. This wasn’t a preparation issue – it was an ingredient one. I’d love to say the texture was too creamy, but that would be weird, so I won’t. But I’d love to say it.

More corporate bs?

At one point, I reached down for a small slice of that delightful palate cleanser, gari.

And came up empty.

Turns out Mitsu doesn’t give pickled ginger until after the meal, one of the most bizarre sushi-related policies I’ve seen since Sunrise Mart Soho made their closing hours “fluid”. Gari cleanses the palate before the next course, but Mitsu treats it like a breath mint you grab on your way out the door.

What exactly is the reason for this? Did some number cruncher figure out that free pickled ginger was costing this hospitality group dozens of dollars?

In conclusion

Again, mitsu-san himself was a treat. His waza, his explanations, and most importantly, the end result, are all fantastic. He even tried to engage with a couple next to me, who could only offer some grunts in return. After he managed Sally The Consultant an hour earlier, I couldn’t fault him when – in another first – he went home before we all paid our bill.

Ultimately, I enjoyed Omakase Room By Mitsu for the variety and the quality. But The Sushi Legend helps me escape from corporate dredge, and so much of that sushiya brings it back. That may be your speed, but it’s not mine. So while I’m recommending it, I won’t be returning. The duality of man.

Recommended.