Grey M.
Yelp
Sushi ii. Let us speak plainly--because poetry is wasted on the unworthy and hyperbole falls short when faced with the sublime.
Tucked into an unassuming corner of Honolulu, Sushi ii is not merely a restaurant. It is a shrine. A sanctuary of obsession. The kind of place where ingredients are not sourced--they are summoned, weekly, from the icy coasts of Japan like tribute to a demanding and discerning god.
The chef? A surgeon with a blade, a poet with vinegar. His knives whisper secrets into slivers of Hokkaido uni so fresh, they still taste of the cold sea wind that kissed them hours before. His rice? Ah, the Hokkaido rice--each grain a tiny jewel, warm, seasoned with restraint and reverence, holding together like a quiet promise. This is not your average sticky filler. This is rice composed with the same seriousness as a haiku.
The toro melts. The kinmedai glows. The ankimo tastes like butter that's read philosophy. Every cut, every brush of nikiri, every seasonal flourish--executed with an intensity that borders on spiritual.
You don't come here for ambiance. You come here because you're a worshipper. A believer. Or a fool who's about to be converted by one piece of otoro so rich, it'll make you question every decision you've ever made about food and fidelity.
Yes, it's expensive. But mediocrity is cheap, and this--this is transcendence wrapped in seaweed.
Sushi ii doesn't serve sushi.
It serves clarity.
And if you don't understand that, perhaps you weren't meant to.