"After we first reviewed Naoe in 2021, we sent our photographer to try to get some photos of the restaurant. He was met with a partially demolished storefront, so he asked around at neighboring businesses if anyone knew what was going on. “Two people think it closed. Another said it was a cult,” he reported back. They were all wrong. Back then, Naoe was just undergoing renovations, and though its word-of-mouth marketing strategy lends it a certain mystique, it’s very much not a cult. Dinner at Naoe is three quiet hours of Miami's most finely tuned Japanese cooking. photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc It’s also unlike any other omakase in the city. There are only five seats. Soft, classical music plays in the background of the unadorned space. Not a single piece of tuna—not even the all but legally mandated otoro—appears throughout the meal. You’re more likely to encounter the fermented intestines of a sea cucumber spread across Japanese mountain yam. To sit at the counter and watch the three-person team work is to doggy paddle in the shallow end of a pool while there’s an artistic swimming competition happening. The chef forms nigiri with an athletic sense of urgency, hunched over and hands a blur of constant motion. His partner Wendy pours sake and mixes matcha while spouting fascinating facts about the ceramic mug you’re drinking from. Show an interest in it, and a glossy book of the artist’s work appears before you. Show even more interest, and she’ll start producing auction pieces from their personal collection. All of this finesse comes with a lot of practice. Naoe is Miami’s longest-running Japanese omakase. (It opened in 2009.) And though you may only hear a word or two from the chef, his meal is a bit of an autobiography. You’re swiping surf clam through soy sauce that came from his family’s 200-year-old brewery in Japan, and maybe drinking sake they made too. Many of the artists responsible for the ceramic plates and mugs are his friends. Naoe is his mother’s maiden name. Those placemats? His uncle’s wife crocheted them. video credit: Ryan Pfeffer photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc video credit: Ryan Pfeffer Beyond seeing the place for yourself or reading a review, there’s little evidence of Naoe’s attention to detail out there in the world—the restaurant has no Instagram account or publicist. But it’s no mystery getting in. Reservations can be made through modern technology (Tock) and the once prohibitively expensive $280 per person price is now the median of Miami’s nicer omakase options. While blowtorch-intensive sushi omakases have scattered all across Miami these days, Naoe has hidden inside its little cave in Brickell Key, where it’s remained insulated from trends and fiercely committed to unphotogenic milt. It’s not a restaurant for the person seeking edible gold leaf and caviar. But there are now a dozen other omakases that’ll make that person happy. For someone who appreciates quiet perfection, there’s only one Naoe. Food Rundown photo credit: Cleveland Jennings / @eatthecanvasllc The Omakase One of Naoe’s greatest strengths is its sourcing of ingredients. There are things you’ll eat here that no other sushi omakase in Miami serves, like sun-dried sea cucumber innards and sake-marinated mullet roe aged to a parmesan-esque funk. The meal lasts about three hours and starts with a bento of seasonal bites, like surf clam or sake-steamed milt along with miso soup. Then, a couple more seafood plates, followed by about six nigiri, eel a few different ways, some more wildcard bites, and then dessert, which consists of tea, fruit, honey cake, and an ice cream flavor they like to make you guess (we won’t spoil it). Sake There are only about seven sake bottles to choose from on the menu, some of which your host flew to Japan to get herself. There could be one or two options from an over 100-year-old sake brewery owned by the chef’s family. They range in price from $280 to $3,800 for a limited edition bottle from a man known as “the god of sake” in Japan. We’re jealous if you get that one, but the $280 option still tastes like being gently kissed on the cheek by a very sweet grain of rice. We saw a few other diners drinking by the glass, so you can always ask about that option, too." - Ryan Pfeffer
