Kelly M.
Yelp
With every fiber of my being, I wanted to love Norman's Japanese Grill. My spouse and I lived in Japan for years, and we were electrified by the idea of an izakaya-influenced restaurant opening in Oak Lawn. The very thought was enough to light our expectations like a neon veranda.
Stepping inside feels like walking onto the set of a Wes Anderson film. The space is dressed in coffee-stained leather, a low-slung bar, carefully curated objects, and shelves adorned with "treasures" from Norman, whoever he might be. Duro Hospitality's fixation on design is obvious. It is Kyoto ryokan meeting Marfa bunkhouse, with every surface composed for maximum visual impact. It is a perfect 10 out of 10 for ambiance.
The service is equally flawless. Staff are attentive without being intrusive, friendly without being overly familiar, and informative without being condescending. Our server navigated the menu like a skilled diplomat, guiding us toward dishes, explaining how to enjoy them, pacing the meal, and knowing exactly when to check in. It was, without question, a 10 out of 10 for service.
The menu is a theatrical production in itself. It is gleefully maximalist, offering handrolls like the "Oh' Godzilla" with bluefin tartare, Hokkaido uni, and Ossetra caviar, alongside udon carbonara with pecorino and cured egg yolk, Korean fried chicken with family recipe gochujang, A5 wagyu, a ninety-nine dollar rib-eye, and corn and miso ravioli. There is miso cod next to cowboy meatballs, sake next to mezcal margaritas. It is an exuberant show and earns a 10 out of 10 for menu design.
Unfortunately, the execution in the kitchen cannot match the polish of the dining room or the pageantry of the menu. And not by a long shot. The cold smoked hamachi with tom kha sauce and charred shiitake aimed for inventive fusion but ended up tasting disjointed, the fish lacking freshness and the mushroom not well matched for flavor. The udon carbonara arrived looking stunning, with its cured yolk, pancetta, and pickled mustard greens, but the noodles were limp, and the sauce cloying. The Korean fried chicken had a soggy crust drowned in gochujang syrup so sweet it erased any joy. The skewered meatballs with cured egg were far too over-spiced to be enjoyable. And then there was the salt. Nearly everything we consumed contained far, far too much of it. Even the sushi, celebrated by some diners, rang hollow to us. The otoro topped with foie gras and the "Oh' Godzilla" roll were theatrical but lacked depth, more about ornament than flavor.
There were fleeting moments when a bite suggested the kitchen might pull it all together, such as our sampling of the pork sliders, but those moments were quickly erased by the next dish to come out. The result is a dining experience that dazzles the eyes and flatters the imagination, but falters where it matters most: the taste itself.
Norman's is a perfect example of what holds back Dallas's upscale dining scene. The city can produce restaurants with impeccable aesthetics and flawless service that are conceptually thrilling, yet nearly every single time, the preparation of the food itself is treated merely as an afterthought. Especially as compared to other cities.
Michelin recently arrived in Dallas and in a metropolitan area of over eight million people awarded only a single star, to Tatsu in Deep Ellum. Tatsu is a quiet omakase counter where fish is chosen and sliced with precision, where technique and restraint speak louder than spectacle. Norman's represents the other side of the city's fine dining coin, where group-owned concepts prioritize appearance over substance.
In the end, Norman's is all design, service, and concept without the cooking to match. It is a place you might visit for the setting, the energy, the excellent craft cocktails, and the sense of occasion. But it is not a place where the flavors of the food will linger in your memory for any of the right reasons.