Faux-makase Hell
NYC's "Affordable Omakase" epidemic / Assemblage's First Hospitality Report
New York has been psyoped by the TikTok-fueled, specious intrigue of inhospitable, affordable (read: accessible) omakase restaurants, better referred to as “faux-makase restaurants”.
Open Google Maps while you’re in the East Village or check Resy for open reservations on a given night (a fool’s errand) and you will be inundated by a gaggle of little omakase spots, all “no frills spots serving up incredible fish”, per an unassuming Google review written by a tourist from a mid-tier city such as Chicago. An observant person would conclude we are in an omakase bubble, and an exhausted “New Yorkish” (sorry) person would claim they have omakase fatigue. I welcome the Frenchification (Le Veau d’Or, Chez Fifi, Zimmi’s, Le Chene, etc) of the dining scene here but am puzzled and frazzled by the omakase epidemic.
The relationship between the rapid multiplication and demand for these sub-$100 per person omakase “experiences” (term used loosely) does not make sense to me. They do not work for special occasions: these restaurants feature a pronounced lack of hospitality that is impossible to ignore once you notice it. You are tossed fish like a seal at SeaWorld then shown the door 10 minutes before the hour, gulping down the rest of your sake as the next round of diners waiting outside watch. They also don’t work for a casual sushi dinner - a meal with sake still ends up being ~$100+ a person after tip. Yet they are open seven days a week, for lunch and dinner. What is going on?
The best, most timeless business model in New York City is the humble smoke shop - they are cheap to open (minimal investment), work well in small, low-rent spaces, and inventory is more or less accessible. Fauxmakase restaurants are the smoke shop of restaurants, the business model du jour for entrepreneurs seeking to dip only a timid toe into the hospitality world. A full kitchen, and the CapEx spend implied, is not needed - no gas line, no ventilation, no hoods, no ovens. True wait staff is superfluous as well. The success of early entrants like Shinn East proved the economics: you charge a relatively high bill per customer with a very small number of seats, and shuffle them in and out of the restaurant at strict, agreed upon times.
How did these mid-fish-peddling restaurants manage to trick everyone into thinking they’re getting omakase for less? A good life lesson to know is you usually can’t get the real version of anything “for less”. “Omakase” used to mean something:
My main gripe with faux-makase restaurants is their perfunctory approach to hospitality. Seatings appear to be an hour long, but in practice result in rushed sub-one hour dining experiences where patrons are literally asked to get up after less than an hour - if your seating is at 6 PM, you need to be up and out before 7 PM as that is when the next seating is. My last meal at Thirteen Water ended exactly 41 minutes after I sat down. This conveyor-belt approach to seatings takes the 90-minute time limit commonplace in NYC dining to its logical extreme, resulting in an oxymoronic experience that touts artistry, premium ingredients, and luxury while operating with the same level of hospitality as a CAVA Midtown slop assembly line. To add insult to injury, the spaces don’t look minimalist or wabi-sabi as they may claim, but like a simulacrum of the “AirSpace” coffee shops and AirBnBs, with their low-budget comfort, accessibility, and tech-inspired design manifesting in hanging lightbulbs and reclaimed wood.
The exponential popularity of this business model indicates that many (not all) are more or less money grabs designed to target the less discerning diner. In the East Village particularly, there are often multiple fauxmakases on the same few blocks, creating a restaurant war scene reminiscent of the lit-up Indian restaurant competition on the corner of 1st Ave and E 6th.
There are so many Tsukiji market importers serving the NYC market that claiming fish from there is pretty frictionless. Often fauxmakase feels like they are just feeding you a sushi platter one piece at a time vs. serving it on a wooden board - a feeling underscored by the fact that the pieces taste more or less the same thanks to a blowtorch, wasabi, or roasted garlic and lemon. Another tell? The menus rarely really change, unlike true omakase. Instead, you are shown a few “special” pieces at the end of the meal, quick upcharge add-ons. Grift? Possibly.
My sushi philosophy has become:
If I have a craving and am in a sushi mood, I stick to handroll bars like Kazu Nori, Domodomo, or Nami Nori, or tried and true “basic” spots like Sugarfish, Kotobuki, or Momoya.
If I want Omakase, I shell out $200+ pp for the omakase experience.
The city needs more places that do nigiri sets! Tomo21 in Greenwich Village has decent ones, but the gold standard is Jinbei in Irvine, CA.
Substack algorithm, can I get more posts like this in my feed please