Inside Philly’s Most Eccentric Omakase

Kevin Yanaga behind the counter of 637 Philly Sushi Club / Photograph by Kae Lani Palmisano

I’ve always been slightly intimidated by omakases. It’s not that I don’t feel welcome — omakases are among the most hospitable dining experiences. It’s just that eating food in front of a highly trained chef who channeled hundreds of years of culinary traditions into a single, artfully composed bite — and did so solely for me — is both awe-inspiring and daunting. So imagine my socially awkward relief when I entered 637 Philly Sushi Club, the chill, semi-secret omakase laboratory behind the bookcase at Yanaga Kappo Izakaya in Northern Liberties, where Kevin Yanaga’s eccentricity subverts your expectations.

On the Friday night I took a ride on the Yanaga omakase rollercoaster, there wasn’t a single seat left in the izakaya. Servers were buzzing around the dining room with plates of karaage fried chicken and spicy tuna handrolls, bartenders were slinging rice lagers and Toki Japanese Whisky highballs across the bar, and in the midst of this well-managed mayhem, a host appeared: “We’re ready to seat you,” she said as she led me to the omakase speakeasy.

Now, I’ve encountered some corny so-called “speakeasy” passageways (see The Newsroom), but the built-in bookcase/inconspicuous secret door I was escorted to was straight out of Scooby-Doo. It was flush with the wall, held real books, and when opened, it revealed what I can only describe as a shrine to Japanese pop culture ephemera. And in the middle of the room lined with Gundam figurines (still in their boxes), Doraemon plush, and Godzilla artwork was an omakase counter where you and seven friends you haven’t met yet would embark on a 20-plus-dish expedition into the Yanaga-verse.

Miso black cod temaki with caviar and truffle / Photograph by Kae Lani Palmisano

Right from the start, when Yanaga set the tone of the dinner by shaving a mountain of truffle onto a miso black cod and caviar temaki, I knew he was an agent of chaos.

At every turn, just when you thought he was done with a course, he’d disappear behind the counter and whip out some extra surprise ingredient that would add an entirely new dimension to what you were eating. I’m talking shima aji topped with caviar lime, aged bluefin topped with shavings of cured bluefin tuna, and Spanish mackerel he ships in from Japan with … wait for it … lemon zest.

Toro tartare / Photograph by Kae Lani Palmisano

The toro tartare was topped with a deviled egg, which was topped with a smattering of uni (the foie gras of the sea), which was topped with ikura that would pop like briny pearls with each bite. And if that wasn’t enough of a textural joyride, he threw in little puffed rice balls whose crunch sort of mimicked the playful fizz of Pop Rocks.

He also served a delicate kelp-cured scallop nigiri with a dollop of truffle soy to which he added lemon zest. The truffle soy alone would have been exciting enough, but the extra oomph of citrus brought a sweet acidity into the mix.

To ground me throughout a meal that was blowing my mind, I opted for the additional sake pairing. Clean, crisp sips of Musashino Sparkling and subtly floral Izumibashi Megumi Blue Label helped reset my palate, and gave me a brief pause to mentally prepare myself for the next round.

From left: Kampachi dusted with red miso; aged bluefin topped with shavings of cured bluefin tuna; Spanish mackerel with lemon zest

Between bites of masaba topped with nihkigoma sesame that Yanaga’s wife stashed in her suitcase on a recent trip to Japan, and smoky New Zealand King Salmon that was kissed by a blowtorch, I talked to my fellow diners about what brought them to such an out-of-the-ordinary omakase.

The woman to my left said she liked the theatrics of Yanaga’s culinary performance and found it to be more unique than other omakases she’d tried. At the end of the counter, a couple who were celebrating their 10th date-iversary said they loved Japanese food in all of its forms, including this more modern take. To my right, another couple were excited that they were lucky enough to snag a last-minute reservation because they’d heard rave reviews from friends.

Yanaga’s toro and uni roll / Photograph by Kae Lani Palmisano

There were points when I was afraid of how a course would turn out. He’d make some ambitious choices that seemed so wrong but tasted so right. That was most apparent with the last dish: an uni and toro roll. First of all, it was so packed with buttery toro and custard-like uni that Yanaga struggled to wrap the hefty roll — it was bursting at the seaweed seams. Second, all of this was piled onto a bed of shiso leaf, which is a member of the mint family. It was …  questionable. But by this point, I was so thoroughly amused by all of the twists and turns of this meal, I figured I’d just trust the process. And I’m glad I did, because the shiso leaf brought a fresh, herbaceous, basil-like quality to a roll that would have otherwise been a savory bomb.

Yanaga says his expressive style is a result of his guiding philosophies, Shuhari (守破離), which means to follow, break, and transcend, and Onko-chishin (温故知新), which means learning from the past to create something new. By the time I got to the surprise encore at the end of the meal — the anago with miso-marinated foie gras served in an edible mochi bowl — his anarchic approach seemed less lawless and more intentional. Perhaps you have to know the rules in order to understand which ones to break.

In a city with a growing number of omakases, this opulent extravaganza is a welcome diversion from the purist approach. Where some omakases focus on minimal intervention, allowing the ingredients to speak for themselves, Yanaga brings together unexpected flavors that amplify those voices. Plus it’s fun. 637 Philly Sushi Club is the rambunctious rapscallion of the omakase world, causing a ruckus in Philly’s dining scene. It’s loud and bold and wild and expressive — which, in many ways, is just like Yanaga himself.