Kelly M.
Yelp
Pearl Sushi, nestled in the charming nook of Knox/Henderson, tries its hand at bringing a slice of Japan to Texas. For the most part, it succeeds. But let's be real--if you're expecting sushi that will change your life and leave you pondering the fragility of existence as you stare at the delicate slice of toro on your plate--this isn't Tokyo, LA, or NYC. Pearl is very good, sometimes excellent in fact. But it's not transcendent. You won't be whispering hushed reverence after each bite, or holding your breath waiting for the next. And that's okay--Dallas wasn't built to be a sushi mecca. But for an upscale Japanese experience in a landlocked Texas metropolis, Pearl can deliver a fine evening.
The chef, a Nobu alum, clearly knows what he's doing. The precision and technique are there, a sort of quiet mastery at play. Each dish is a small canvas, with fresh fish flown in from Japan and other far-flung places. But as with any artist, it's the setting that determines whether the work becomes legendary or merely appreciated. In a slightly less sophisticated foodie market like Dallas, you'll appreciate it--but you won't be sending out telegrams to friends in Osaka, breathlessly telling them to book a flight.
The atmosphere is intimate. Dark, moody lighting... the kind of place where you can sink into your chair and sip on high-end sake while trading conspiratorial whispers across the table. Speaking of sake, their offerings are impressive. It's not one of those bloated, overly ambitious menus that make you feel like you're being tested for an advanced degree in rice wine; it's curated, thoughtful, and yes, expensive. But hey, if you're already committing to a meal that'll cost you north of $300 for two with drinks, why not?
As for the service? Attentive. My spouse and I were regulars in the early days, the kind who threw down good money and tipped well. We became the kind of familiar faces any high-end restaurant should welcome with open arms. So imagine our surprise when one evening, a server casually mentions that they're throwing a private party for "regulars"--the kind of inside baseball gathering that restaurants like to host to make their best customers feel special. Except, inexplicably, we weren't invited.
To be clear, we have traveled and lived the world over. We are no strangers to feeling out of place. But this was different. Pearl isn't some exclusive, underground NYC or Tokyo speakeasy where you need to know someone who knows someone. It's an upmarket sushi joint--a very good one, mind you--but in Dallas nonetheless. After that night, something shifted. We haven't been back since. Maybe it was a lapse in judgment, a misstep by one staff member. But when you're consistently shelling out $1k or more per month at a restaurant, you expect more than good food and an obligatory smile. You expect mutual respect.
Would I recommend Pearl Sushi? Sure, if you're in Dallas and in the mood for a decent, refined Japanese experience, it's worth a visit. But if you're looking for the best sushi and tempura on earth, it's most certainly not here. And if you're expecting that intangible, extra layer of hospitality that makes a place feel like your home away from home--be prepared, sometimes, for a letdown.