What is omakase? Leave it to the chef.

The word

A way of ordering, not a dish.

The word comes from makaseru, to entrust. Omakase is not a set menu you could order at another restaurant; it is an agreement between you and the person behind the counter. The chef reads the day’s fish, the season and, often, you — how fast you eat, what makes you smile — and builds the meal as it goes.

Sushi is the classic form, but the idea travels. There are omakase counters for yakitori, tempura and kappo cooking, and chef’s-choice counters now turn up far from Japan, from New York to Jakarta to Manila. The courtesies below work at almost all of them.

The arc

How a sushi omakase usually runs.

1. A small openerMany counters start with a few small plates or a light piece of white fish, like sea bream, to wake up your palate.
2. Building richerThe pieces get richer as you go: silver-skinned fish, then yellowtail, then the fatty tuna belly most people remember.
3. The finishA sweet slice of tamago (the layered omelette) or a hand roll often closes the sequence.
4. The signalA cup of tea or a small bowl of soup usually means the set course is done.
5. Extras, if you likeSome counters let you order favourites one by one afterwards. This is called okonomi, “as you like”, and is charged on top.

The checklist

Omakase etiquette that actually matters.

• Tell them what you don’t eat when you book. Allergies and dislikes are planned around in advance; changing course at the counter is hard on the kitchen.
• Arrive on time. Many counters serve everyone together, so a late seat holds up the whole row.
• Skip the perfume. You sit shoulder to shoulder, and strong scents get in the way of delicate fish.
• Take off a chunky watch or bracelet. Counters are often a single piece of soft wood that scratches easily.
• Ask before photos — then eat right away. A piece is at its best the moment it lands. One quick shot, then it goes in your mouth.
• Go easy on the soy sauce. Many pieces arrive already brushed or seasoned. If a piece is plain, dip the fish side lightly, never the rice.
• Hands or chopsticks are both fine for nigiri at most counters. Follow the chef’s lead, and try to eat each piece in one bite.
• Pickled ginger is for between pieces, to reset your palate — not a topping.
• Keep compliments short and questions welcome. Asking what a fish is, or where it is from, is part of the fun.
• Let the chef set the pace. Don’t ask for extra pieces mid-sequence; the arc is built to peak near the end.

Three words

Omakase, okonomi or kaiseki?

Keep it

How to remember every piece.

Fifteen pieces in ninety minutes is a lot to hold in your head, and by the walk home the middle of the meal has blurred into “there was a great mackerel somewhere.” A tiny counter card fixes that. Copy it into your notes before you go:

• Piece no. — what the chef called it (ask if you missed it).
• One word for texture — silky, snappy, melting, crisp.
• The topping or seasoning — yuzu zest, a dab of salt, a brush of sauce.
• Star it — the three pieces you would order again as okonomi.
• Who sat beside you — because Theo will ask about that uni for a year.

On your phone

One save per piece, without typing at the counter.

If the counter allows photos, PlateDiary has a Dish by dish mode: the camera stays up inside the app and each shot stacks on a deck, so a course-by-course meal becomes one save per piece, cut out on your phone in about a second. The shots gather into one moment at that place, and you can name them on the train home — or tap Read and PlateDiary AI suggests a name for each one (10 free tries, then a membership).

Next time you sit at that counter, its place page shows your menu there and how many times you have had each piece. If the counter asks for no photos, respect it: one shot of the menu card or receipt afterwards, imported later, still lands under the right place and night.