At Yume: Sushi and Strict Go Hand in Hand

The cardinal rules of sushi etiquette: do not rub your chopsticks together; dip your fish, not the rice, in soy sauce; rarely add wasabi to nigiri, and always eat the aforementioned with your hands.

At most American sushi establishments, diners get away with great breaches of sushi etiquette, gleefully slathering their crab-and-mayonnaise-stuffed California rolls with wasabi, loading them with mounds of ginger and blithely dunking their concoctions deep into their soy sauce, staining the rice an inky brown.

Not so at in Alameda, where sushi making and eating is as artful and rule-bound as a Japanese tea ceremony.

A framed sign listing proper sushi etiquette hangs forebodingly outside the door, and woe betide anyone who doesn’t study it fastidiously before entering.

Another sign, printed in huge red letters, reads, “We reserve the right to refuse entrance to anyone."  A third sign indicates that only parties of two or fewer will be seated, and admonishes diners not to play “tricks” in an effort to smuggle larger parties across the threshold.

Diners who dare tread here must toe the line, and surrender themselves to owner Hideki Aomizu's law. If this has you running to your tried-and-true sushi bar faster than you can say “edamame," slow down. In exchange for your cooperation at Yume, you are guaranteed a truly unique and utterly delicious dining experience.

“You have to just give yourself over to him, he has a way of knowing just what you’ll like,” said a regular patron soon after I sat down last Friday night. And he was right.

First-time diners would do well to order the omakase, where Hideki serves diners what he pleases. This allows guests to sample a range of tastes and textures, each piece a welcome surprise. But if the unknown is not your thing, you have the option of ordering from the menu.

The restaurant seats just eight people, guaranteeing an intimate, highly interactive evening. There are no tables, and everyone sits around a tiny sushi bar, manned by Hideki himself. He artfully creates each piece of sushi before customers' eyes.

All the fish is vividly displayed behind glass on the counter, and Hideki periodically reaches in to extract a fresh cut from his vast selection and gets to work slicing and moulding his creations.

The room is brightly lit, a Japanese custom to showcase the freshness of the fish. If it glistens, it’s fresh. At Yume, the fish veritably shines.

My guest and I started with a barely seared butterfish nigiri (a small slab of fish placed upon a finger of rice), topped with a scattering of chopped green onion. Hideki uses fresh wasabi, which he layers ever so finely between the rice and fish.

All that is needed is a quick dip of the fish in soy sauce before popping the entire piece into your mouth. (Proper sushi etiquette calls for nigiri to be eaten in one bite, difficult at mainstream establishments where the pieces often come much larger.) 

Next was fresh scallop nigiri. The scallops, marinated in kelp, were silky and soft, and glided down the throat. Individual servings of smoked halibut nigiri, yellowtail sashimi, raw prawn nigiri, clam and pepper California rolls and fatty tuna nigiri were interspersed with offerings from the kitchen, brought out by Hideki’s wife. These included crispy deep-fried prawns, a sublime, creamy egg custard soup, and fried halibut bones. Hot sake and greener-than-green tea are perfect accompaniments.

Periodically throughout the meal, we were told off for not holding the sushi correctly, or for sitting improperly. But the chastizing was done with an impish smile, daring you to play along. Hideki also chats and jokes with the customers and makes it clear that everyone should be enjoying themselves, and the food.

With Hideki as the only chef, a sitting lasts around two hours. The sushi is meant to be savored. This means that often crowds of sushi lovers wait outside, hoping for a coveted seat at Hideki’s helm. A diner next to us said she once waited three hours to be seated. But this doesn’t seem to deter the hungry.

The restaurant, open Wednesday through Saturday, always has a steady stream of customers, both regulars and newbies. Many will travel for the experience. A couple to my left said they drove from San Francisco, sitting for an hour in rush hour traffic, just to sample Hideki’s fare. Most of the diners were Japanese, a testament to Yume’s authenticity.

Yume is on the pricey side, and an omakase for two can set you back $100 or more. But as one customer said, “We’re addicted to this place!”

After one visit, you might just be too, and the money you spent will be forgotten in a glowing post-sushi haze.