Namo

Namo works a sushi counter and a three-sided bar into the same room, and the bar is worth claiming for itself: Hitachino on tap, sakes built toward floral rather than blunt, a good place to sit before the food starts making arguments of its own. The tuna tasting is the clearest one — three cuts staged in ascending fat, each bite recalibrating what the last one taught you. The cucumber salad earns its spot by being genuinely bright against all that richness, not a filler course.

Then the cheeseburger nigiri, which is the kind of dish that could read as a stunt and instead reads as conviction: toro, A5 wagyu, uni standing in for cheese, caviar on top, all of it soft enough to barely resist the bite. It's excess with a point, built by people who understand restraint well enough to know exactly where to abandon it. A seasonal omakase exists for anyone who wants the kitchen to make every call.

D Magazine has kept Namo on its radar, and it's landed on national recognition lists too. Those are confirmations, not the case. The case is a menu that takes fat, salt, and texture seriously enough to stack them on purpose and have it work.