SHŌ Omakase

Shō turns omakase into a set list. The chefs behind the counter move with the kind of synchronized precision that turns a two-hour tasting into rhythm and release — blowtorching wagyu, dusting chawanmushi with fried potato cubes, dotting crudo with coconut pudding. The menu itself reads like liner notes, each course labeled a track, and the bit works because the food backs it up rather than coasting on the gimmick.

This is Old Town's answer to a decade of interchangeable nigiri parades, and it earns the distinction. The fish is handled with real technique, but the kitchen isn't afraid to build a course around texture and contrast instead of just letting good tuna speak for itself. That willingness to swing is what separates it from the sea of competent-but-forgettable omakase counters the city already has plenty of.

It's landed on national best-new-restaurant radar more than once, which tracks — the ambition here reads clearly even to people who've never sat at the counter. Shō isn't reinventing sushi. It's proving there's still room to have fun with the format without cheapening it.