The $1,000 Thrill of Sushi Sho
The $1,000 Thrill of Sushi Sho
Your "cheat sheet" guide to one of NYC's best new omakase spots, with notes on how Wyld gummies (now available nationwide) make the tasting menu even more fun!
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Two hours at the high-limit sushi lounge
Minced lobster with dashi. That’s course No. 6, a coastal breeze that smells of sweet shellfish and bitter citrus.
Red uni from Kyushu. That’s course No. 11, nature’s own flan, packing the flavor of dark molasses. I’ve never tried urchin like it.
But for some of the well-heeled patrons at Sushi Sho, dinner doesn’t really get going until later, after the formal omakase ends. Allow me to explain.
Around course nineteen, roughly 80 or 90 minutes into the meal, my server drops off a menu with eye-popping nigiri prices. This means the casual okonomi service is about to begin. It also means the $450 that I pre-paid for dinner has already been depleted.
I’m old enough to remember when that tidy sum actually got you a full sushi meal.
Will you ante up? Of course you will. No one skips the a la carte extras at Sho, Keiji Nakazawa’s mesmerizing (and shockingly inaccessible) Midtown restaurant. It’s instantly one of my favorite sushi spots anywhere in the world.
Though it’s unclear if I’ll ever return.
The initial courses leading up to this moment, nearly two dozen of them, are as tiny as they are thrilling. A sardine maki with seasoned vegetables — it looks like an organic microprocessor from the future — is no larger than a quarter. And that lobster I was telling you about is no bigger than a domino.
Those dishes were just priming our palates.
The room turns from hushed to bustling as the okonomi ceremony kicks off. Chefs gather at distinct points behind the hinoki bar, a spacious semi-circle that seats 10. And they hold up butchered slabs of seafood whose price, per square inch, is as exorbitant as anything at your friendly neighborhood Fendi store.
Kisu! Japanese Whiting. Shinko! Young gizzard shad. Kinmedai kawa! Seared golden eye snapper skin. The chefs announce each of the 29 or so selections. A waiter standing nearby offers simultaneous commentary, as if a museum curator were quietly podcasting into your ear. And patrons in unremarkable button downs watch the show.
How fun.
Less fun are the prices. The cost is $20 to $50 extra, per bite. This is easily the city’s most expensive rare fish market for individual buyers.
A little context: At some of New York’s top sushi spots, the meal is over when the chef decides the meal is over. But at a few of these institutions, patrons get a chance to revisit nigiri from earlier in the evening, usually for a few more dollars more.
Sho takes things further. The first half of dinner is designed to ensure you’ll have ample stomach space for the optional courses. And the extra nigiri aren’t about hitting rewind, or repeating courses from thirty minutes ago. This is about sampling an almost entirely new assortment of fish.
If Sushi Sho were a baseball game, the okonomi wouldn’t be “overtime;” this would be charging the fans extra to watch innings seven through nine. So be it.
I look on as a few high-rolling Londoners order about 10 pieces each, including the shimofuri, a rare part of the o-toro whose white marbling is so intense it recalls a dusting of snow. Our chef cuts the flesh into paper-thin rectangles, as if he were assembling an Iberico platter — before placing three slices atop a single mound of vinegared rice. Cost: $50 for ten seconds of pleasure.
If my mental math is right, those British gents spent an extra $400 (each) on sushi, nearly doubling the price of their meal. A waiter even told me that every now and then, someone will order every supplement. Do so at your own risk, as that involves nearly 50 courses altogether and a bill that exceeds $1,340.
Or here’s a more reasonable reference point: Even with my five extra pieces, I was the first person to cash out and leave Sushi Sho that night, with a bill just shy of $730. Even when you want to keep playing cards with the whales, sometimes it’s best to know your limit and fold.
Why should anyone care about another ultra-luxe sushi spot?
“A lot of tasting-menu restaurants assume, correctly, that almost nobody sitting at the counter is going to become a regular. These places are built for one-night flings, not long-term relationships,” Pete Wells kvetched in his farewell column last week. I don’t mind counter spots per se, but I too am tired of “utterly interchangeable” tasting menus, especially those that feel scientifically engineered to win a spot on the World’s 50 Best List.
But Sushi Sho stands apart. If anyone ever hires me to work as a billionaire industrialist (dream big, kids), I’d eat here twice a month, to keep working my way through the ever-changing okonomi menu.
I’d understand if you’re skeptical. The prices are obscene.
A decade ago, New York was home to just a single omakase spot where dinner for two would inevitably cross the $1,000 threshold. How quaint. Now, the city has at least ten such venues, as Manhattan becomes home to one of the deepest collections of high-end sushi bars outside of Tokyo. Part of the movement is a bland gold rush, an effort to vacuum up dollars from wealthy patrons with generic slices of bluefin toro.
A handful of these luxe spots, however, add something truly special to the city’s seafood scene. Sushi Sho is one of them.
Yes, there’s the alluring (and exorbitant) okonomi service. But there’s also the pacing. Courses come out in a way that feels genuinely surprising and out-of-order, like an initial viewing of “Pulp Fiction.” More on that in a bit.
There’s the ethos. Standard indulgences, like black caviar or excess toro, are largely absent. Instead, you get seasonal specialties with funkier flavors — like simmered hamaguri clams. And Sho’s rice program is almost worth the price of admission by itself; Nakazawa even ferments his grain into something that resembles a runny cheese.
Or let me get more personal: As someone who grew up eating a lot of strongly flavored seafood on Long Island — you can generally skip the Dover sole with me — Sho ranks as one of the most exciting sushi experiences I’ve ever had.
So scroll down for the full FAQ cheat sheet! Also: This is an extended review with a bunch of mini essays, service-y recommendations, and notes on how THC edibles made the amazing sushi even greater! No need to read the whole thing from start to finish; treat this column like a guide that you skim before landing on the sections that interest you!
Behind the Paywall: Sushi Sho and Wyld Edibles, Reviewed
What to expect during the omakase half of the meal
What extra okonomi pieces you should order (or avoid)
How to get into Sho, and how much you’ll spend
Why edibles are a perfect match for omakase spots
Which Wyld edibles you should try, anywhere!