By  LPJ

I never heard of omakase before, until my weekend dinner date with my son John, daughter-in-law Natasha and grandson Eliott for Eliott’s birthday treat. So glad that I dived into this culinary experience, not knowing what to expect. I consider myself as a “foodie”, yet there are certain limitations to my adventurous instincts where my palate is concerned. But that omakase that night was a gem.

Omakase is chef-curated dinner, for a taste of chef-chosen specialties presented one at a time. Our omakase was at Daigo, an unassuming Japanese restaurant located in an obscure alley in Palo Alto, CA. It was far from looking luxurious or commercially sparkly, yet, the omakase I had was definitely a luxury further enhanced with efficient and pleasant service. John explained that the dinner would be a parade of sashimis and appetizers, rightly spaced to allow for a full savory sensation before the next dish. I told my family that the only sashimis I had before were salmon and yellowtail. I refused to do any more than those. When invited to a sashimi eat-out, my polite refusal came 95% of the time. My family was anxious about whether I’d enjoy the faire, but I was determined to try, all because it was Eliott’s birthday dinner. I willed to enjoy all that came in front of me.

By golly, did I enjoy it!

(Photos from John S. Jacob)

The friendly waitresses dutifully delivered a spiel about every dish, describing the fish laid out in little pieces arranged artfully in small plates. As the sushi plates were ushered in, I made a snide remark – will we be full with these? John, Natasha, Eliott chorused, “Yes!” It turns out they had an elaborate omakase in San Francisco some months ago. So they knew.

I was immediately impressed with the first item, pickled cucumber slices with strings of crab meat. It was so refreshing to the palate, a teaser that whet my appetite for the item/s that would follow. The next was a shocker in the best way. Slices of delicately textured king fish, succulent in a  thin sauce (a mystery, didn’t know what it was) became everyone’s favorite. We all agreed, king fish was the best of all.

Central to the culinary extravaganza were the sixteen different sashimis offered in the middle of the omakase lineup. Before it even came, I said I’d skip the tuna. Except for tuna sandwiches, I never really liked tuna sashimi. John volunteered an explanation. Perhaps it was because I never go for rare or medium rare beef. I always choose medium well or well done for my steak or prime rib. And I consider tuna sashimi as rare. The right psychology, I said. What I didn’t have, Eliott happily gobbled. That boy loves sashimis of any kind. In fact, he chose sushi for his dinner treat.

Next to the king fish, we all agreed, our favorites were the black cod and striped jack. The rest were satisfyingly good, but those three we chose when asked if we wanted anymore sushis after we ate the last on the omakase list. King fish wasn’t given. It was a very special item from the chef that could not have any repeat. The king was rare. I swear that would be the first I’d look for in my next omakase.

The miso soup was another teaser. Held in a tiny cup, it had one clam, strips of cucumber, beaten egg textured like tofu, and an aromatic flavor that hinted of mild spice. I wanted more. So I asked if the restaurant sold it like soup in a big bowl. The amused waiter softy said – no, just in those little cups. I wondered why. It’s because it takes a lot of  work to make; that’s what I heard from her soft voice.

So OK, no repeat for king, and not a bigger serving for soup. But that’s fine with me. I just have to go back for another omakase.

Invite me for sashimis next time. I won’t refuse.

Linda P. Jacob