The moment you walk through the door, the hostess will inquire if you know how it works there: it’s chef’s choice only. If you still act like a newbie, then she may forewarn you that the course costs $100 to $150 per person, depending on what is served that day. The timid may balk; the inexperienced might question the lack of a menu. The sign on the wall further daunts the neophytes: “OMAKASE ONLY. NO CUT ROLLS.” The cheap masses rationalize: “But I can eat so much more at the bargain sushi joint for that price….”
The truth is, if you’re going to try real sushi but you’re on a budget, you are probably better off eating fast food (or plain bread, for that matter) for a whole month just to save enough dough for one life-changing dining experience at Sushi Zo, rather than frequenting a discounted sushi hut once a week. Be prepared, however, to be forever ruined for most other mediocre sushi restaurants thereafter.
Each dish at Sushi Zo (served mostly nigiri style, although sashimi and a hand roll do occasion) is prepared with such meticulous precision that it borders on obsessive. To be fair, the server does ask you beforehand what you don’t like—if you’re opposed to exotic sea urchin, or anything chewy such as clam, this is your only chance to speak up and exert any influence over your meal; after this it’s literally up to the chef.
The small plates are presented one after another, usually with a single miniscule piece of sushi that is no bigger than a finger, and a line of instruction uttered by the server: “This is albacore sushi…already ponzu sauce, no soy sauce, please….” “This is scallop, add a little soy sauce.” The lines become somewhat repetitious until you hear slight variations, such as “This is amberjack, with lemon and Japanese jalapeno…” and then the kicker: “…no soy sauce.”
Out of the entire course which consists of slightly more than 20 items, only about three items are actually suggested to be paired with the soy sauce that’s contained in the little kettle on the table. Other than that, the bite-size masterpieces already come seasoned as the chef intended, such as with sea salt, ponzu sauce or the ever-pungent truffle salt. Some of the fish Sushi Zo offers is flown in from Japan, and even rare breeds like needlefish and perch are served.
Although I have observed differences in the seafood served during my four visits to Sushi Zo over the last two years, the meal generally begins and ends with the same items: to start the feast, a single perfectly prepared Kumamoto oyster, followed by four pieces of melt-in-your-mouth tuna sashimi, which is then followed by a tiny saucer filled with uni noodles; to end the party, a single hand roll is served (usually filled with blue crab, but during my last visit it was toro), with a shot of yuzu juice for dessert. The rest of the course may showcase crispy sea eel, sweet shrimp, Spanish mackerel, golden eye snapper, yellow striped jack, seared black cod with miso sauce, pompano, black snapper, and red snapper.
And then there are the standard sushi staples: yellowtail, albacore, halibut and scallop (although as common as these may sound, somehow at Sushi Zo they are anything but ordinary). Perhaps it has to do with the old adage “You get what you pay for,” because the fish quality here is so high you’ll swear it’s served straight out of the sea, for it certainly can’t be just a matter of seasonings, no matter how good the chef. Each piece dissolves in your mouth; the rice is sweet; attention to detail can be seen down to the very fact that the monkfish liver is served warm, rather than cold (this is reminiscent of the way Sasabune serves its ankimo).
At the end of the repast, the waitress will explain that dinner is now complete, unless you have special requests—this is the point at which you’ve earned the right to order whatever you desire from the kitchen, if your appetite permits it. If you’ve been here multiple times, at this moment you may want to order that one thing you liked last time, which perhaps the chef didn’t incorporate into his repertoire tonight (but keep in mind this compounds to the final bill, which you know is already high). In one of my visits, I special-ordered the orange clam with truffle salt; another time, I requested the blue crab hand roll (the chef had served a toro hand roll in its place and I, as is my wont, had a hankering for the crustacean).
9824 National Blvd., Los Angeles