Nobu’s
Shinji by Kanesaka is an omakase in Singapore that is important for two reasons: it has one Michelin star and it killed—or at least delivered some serious head trauma—my interest in omakases. My meal there ten years ago wasn’t bad; in fact, it had one of the most memorable single bites of food I can recall: their tamago. How they packed so much flavor (and what was that flavor?) inside a one-inch cube of egg, I’ll never know.
The meal wasn’t even tarnished by the fact I was suffering from heat stroke after misjudging my tolerance for Singapore’s humidity. No, not even profuse sweating and vomiting could keep me down. What did steal my joy, however, was watching the chef serve the people next to me multiple courses of uni while giving me exactly none. Would I take away their Michelin star if I could? Probably.
That’s the risk of an omakase, though. You’re putting your meal in the hands of the chef, and if you’re a sweaty American who probably looks like they’re going through some sort of withdrawal, you might not get the same quality experience as the people next to you.
I’ve had omakases since, of course, but the ghost of disappointments past still haunts me a bit.
At the time of writing, St. Louis has three notable omakase experiences: Nobu’s, Sado, and Pavilion—and that’s in order from traditional to experimental.
The original Nobu’s opened in 1987, presumably to honor my birth, then moved into a former IHOP on Olive Boulevard before ultimately being displaced to make room for Costco’s parking lot. While writing that will never stop depressing me, this opened the door for Nobu’s to reimagine itself. The result is a beautiful, intimate omakase tucked away in the Delmar Loop.
The restaurant offers table seating and six seats at the sushi counter, which I highly recommend. Dining options are a bit complicated, so let me break it down:
Nine-course omakase (sushi counter): $180 per person. The full experience, which I recommend
Six-course omakase: $150
Four-course omakase: $100
Pick-up options: a bento-style box with nine pieces of nigiri and two rolls for $65, or a chirashi bowl—sashimi, cooked seafood, and mixed vegetable condiments on a bed of rice—for $45
It may just be me, but I don’t like my tasting menus spoiled, so I’ll keep details about the dishes sparse. The menu changes seasonally—below is summer, we’re now into fall—but I believe there are a few holdovers, and hearing George explain what you’re eating is part of the fun.
The nine course menu starts with a tsukidashi (a mix of small bites), then a kai-sen seafood salad, wan-mono (soup), santen mori (trio of bites), sashimi, ippin-mono (tempura or grilled fish), nigiri, and dessert.
It’s fairly traditional, as far as omakases go, with many elegantly simple bites—skipjack with wasabi, a delicately grilled slice of A5 wagyu beef. Others are more unfamiliar, like squid tossed in a sauce made of squid, served on a piece of black fungus, or saltwater eel wrapped in burdock root, topped with a sansho pepper frond.
What Nobu’s does extremely well is showcase high-quality ingredients prepared with a quiet (literally) confidence by a chef who’s been doing this his entire life.
For comparison, at Sado you might see something like smoked masu or garlic pepper kanpachi—similarly taking very high quality ingredients and giving them a slight tweak to create something new and different. Pavilion, on the other hand, is a different beast entirely. Their Iwashi Toast course takes fresh Japanese sardines, cures them in salt, sugar, yuzu, and a mix of vinegars, then wraps them in kombu for 24 hours. The fish is scored and torched to order, served with fresh brioche, black garlic aioli, shiso, fried leeks, and a butternut squash relish.
What I loved about Nobu’s is that it feels like you’re having an omakase in Chef Nobu’s house. They’re not trying to reinvent anything—in fact, it feels like quite the opposite. When you’re at any restaurant this small, with food being prepared by the chef himself, the meal is a reflection of them and their personal history. This is the omakase of a chef who grew up in Kobe, worked in Hawaii, then spent forty years serving Japanese food to people in the Midwest. He’s been doing it longer than many of my favorite chefs have even been alive.
Again, Chef Nobu has owned his own restaurant for nearly 40 years. Think about how many restaurants you’ve loved have closed in the last decade. Hell, in the last year. To endure for that long—to open something small, grow into a larger space, lose it to a Costco parking lot in your sixties, and still come back to create one of St. Louis’ finest restaurants—that is the real magic of Nobu’s.
