Sushi | Bar ATX

"I’ve had some excellent sushi experiences lately, but they all required a significant amount of foresight — so it’s worth noting for any special occasions coming up that Sushi Bar ATX opens reservations at 10 a.m. on Sunday, August 1. Sushi Bar is a small, 10-person counter omakase that almost qualifies as dinner and a show, thanks to the personal service from the chef in front of you and liberal use of torches and garnishes. The sushi is a bit more adorned than strictly traditional style — my favorite piece was shima aji with a small dot of fresno chili, though the eel fried in bone marrow fat was also a treat." - Eater Staff

"The New York Times explores the idea of the bromakase — where tech bros indulge in showy high-end omakases more for the vibes than the quality of the food — and there are a lot of Austin mentions. The piece leads with Joe Rogan praising Sushi|Bar ATX, which had been run by Austin-based chef Phillip Frankland Lee, who relocated to the city from California to run his restaurant as a pop-up and then a permanent spot during the pandemic." - Nadia Chaudhury

"Fish doesn’t get to be fish at Sushi Bar. Take, for example, the Hokkaido scallop, which gets topped with white soy sauce, white and black truffle salt, fermented garlic honey, dehydrated chives, and spherified truffles. It's like a trip to a self-serve froyo shop when you were a kid, where your cup ended up being more candy than froyo. This -only spot over-accessorizes with foams, shaved truffles, everything bagel seasoning, kelp-cured butter, and even sauce. The nigiri is gimmicky, and, ultimately, overblown, expensive, and not very good. Sushi Bar follows a format that’s been spreading across the country over the last few years: a -style omakase with a dozen seats at a counter, a near-comical use of blowtorches, and a barrage of 15-20 pieces of splashy, “new wave” nigiri, for north of $200 a head. But this nigiri is too overwrought and gussied up to be delicious, and the novelty wears off quickly. Somewhere around nigiri number five, you’ll mentally beg for a simple piece of aji with just a faint touch of tare. Uni gets finished with dehydrated red miso and wasabi. “This is pretty simple,” your sushi chef might tell you, unironically, “so you can appreciate the flavor of the uni.” Another problem is that the fish itself is often unevenly sliced and texturally off, like tough kanpachi, chewy butterfish, or unusually soggy otoro. The rice is gummy and a little hard, and simultaneously too loosely packed. Sometimes the nigiri falls apart on you as you pick it up. You don’t get a napkin for your lap here, so expect to wipe the rice bits up with your cold oshibori from the start of the meal, which is never removed from the counter. A place serving nigiri that seems like it was conjured by AI makes sense: Sushi Bar is owned by a venture capital firm with investments in multiple restaurant brands, including an Italian spot in Nashville, a New Jersey/Italian-style deli with , and then Sushi Bar, which has expanded from its original Austin location to , , and Dallas. It’s an easily replicable omakase concept that’s optimized to separate diners from their money. The whole experience of eating here feels weirdly hostile, with the chefs and sommelier  interrupting the dining room chatter dozens of times to explain what’s next. You’ll feel like you’re sitting in a lecture—and find it hard to keep up conversation with a dinner companion. Every few minutes you’re told, for instance, that the sparkling sake has notes of tropical fruit, or that the madai is crowned with shiso, house soy, peach and sea buckthorn jam, yuzu oil, Jacobsen sea salt, and sesame seeds. It's like a frenetic assembly-line, and brutally fast (90 minutes, in and out). At a minimum of $210 per person—dinner costs $159 plus tax and a 22% autograt before drinks—the value isn’t there. The meal never feels celebratory, fun, or fitting for a special occasion. There’s no opportunity to catch up with an old friend to find out that they got a new puppy, or linger over an after-dinner drink or dessert on . At the 90-minute mark, you’ll be told to leave the dining room, and swipe a credit card in the foyer to settle up the sizable bill. Thankfully, at this point, the nigiri stops coming. " - Raphael Brion

"The Holly omakase restaurant is putting together a special meal for New Year’s Eve with 23 courses, add-ons, sake/wine pairings, and midnight Champagne toast. The 9:30 p.m. meal is $425 per person. Book reservations online; there are indoor dine-in services." - Nadia Chaudhury

"The now-larger, still intimate Holly omakase is a great way to go all-out on dinner. The team turns out creative bites precisely adorned with ingredients like marigold flowers or fermented peppers. The multi-course omakase is $159 per person. There are indoor dine-in services. Book reservations online." - Erin Russell