Omakase means "I leave it up to you." It is a trust placed in the hands of the chef, and it is renewed at every seating.
At Okonori that trust begins before the fish, with the rice. A proprietary grain flown in from Hokkaido, seasoned with a red vinegar we ship from Japan and ferment ourselves with our own spices. It is treated as an ingredient, not a base.
The fish is chosen for the season and nothing else. What meets it we make here — our own cured ginger to clear the palate between courses, pickles and jellies that exist at no other counter.
The meal moves the way a season moves: clean to rich, delicate to deep. It opens quiet. It closes with something that stays.
Every seating unfolds at the Performance Table, a counter shaped with the same care as what is set upon it. You sit close enough to watch each piece take form — the cut, the press, the moment it is set down in front of you. Ten guests at a time, so that closeness holds.
On Tuesday and Wednesday, the counter changes hands. The Temaki Counter is served one handroll at a time, each passed over the moment it is made — nori still crisp, rice still warm. It asks to be eaten immediately, which is the whole point of it.