Omakase is often about venerated ritual, carefully performed. At Sushi Hyun, the form remains ceremonial, distinguished by an unexpectedly relaxed warmth.

Through the blink-and-you-might-miss-it entrance, and down the simple hallway, staff will gently offer to safely stow your coat, bag, even your phone (take them up on it). Sit at the counter, lean in, and fully surrender to the precision and personality Hyun brings to the unblemished, centuries-old Hinoki wood. Despite the almost untouchable beauty of the surroundings, the greeting is one of unguarded enthusiasm. The seriousness of omakase quickly softens into something resembling a kitchen party.

The clay pot used for rice was acquired only after persistent pleading; the basket that maintains the rice at his preferred temperature required a four-month wait.

These details are shared without ego, only appreciative pride. Lee speaks of carefully nurtured relationships: wasabi sourced directly from Shizuoka; tuna obtained through Japan’s most revered merchant, Yamauki. Authentication papers for the day’s catch are displayed discreetly at the counter.

Dinner begins with a quivering chawanmushi, still warm, tasting of sea. What follows is a procession of exquisitely composed bites: red sea bream sashimi from Ehime with shiso flower and aged Korean salt; slow-cooked octopus; melting kinmedai; tuna so soft it borders on indecent. Skewered barramundi with grilled leeks appears as a momentary interlude, paired with a restorative cucumber pickle.

Then comes uni, slipping across the tongue like cream. Anago. Rice from the prized pot, festooned with goldeneye snapper and sea bream, their flesh gently lifted from grilled collars. A ladle of dashi and tea metamorphs the bowl into another course.

A morsel of tamago, perfect to look at as well as to eat. Then, chilled Hokkaido melon and a spoonful of strawberry ice cream—Lee confides, with a grin, that he wanted it to “taste like Häagen-Dazs.”

Meticulous and welcoming, so exacting yet so full of joy. In Lee’s hands, practice is made personal. Sushi Hyun is singular.