At first glance, dining at Aburi Hana reminded me of Tokyo. The restaurant’s entrance is tucked amongst an alleyway on Yorkville and situated downstairs in the basement. It was Tokyo all over again – locating the establishment after arriving at the address.

Yet, after checking in with the hostess, it felt like arriving at a spa. We were five minutes early, so they sat us in a small lounge playing tranquil music with a floral scent permeating the air. When we finally sat down at the “chef’s counter”, the L shaped dining area allowed us to see the kitchen but felt removed from the action. It’s the only chef’s counter where the chef didn’t even acknowledge the diners – not as a whole and definitely not intimately.

And so, we settle in for the 8-course tasting menu ($300 per person) and 6-drink pairing ($150 per person) as different staff come and went to present items. Everyone was polite and friendly but also seemed to be regurgitating a well rehearsed script. It’s felt oddly formal even as I tried cracking jokes with them.

Oh well, I’m here for the food. The meal starts with the lobster usuimame a piece of barely cooked lobster wrapped around a delicate fish paste that’s well… fishy. A swig of water helps dissipate the bad taste in my mouth as does drinking the silky sweet pea infused dashi at the bottom of the bowl. I even admire the cute bird carved from an heirloom carrot before popping it into my mouth and enjoying the sweetness.

The meal improves as the otoro and caviar sushi monaka is presented. The crispy mochi wafer is filled with a layer of well vinegared sushi rice and topped with tuna belly, pickled daikon, creamy dollops of uni (?), and of hefty teaspoon of caviar. Each bite is deliciously fresh and flavourful.

It’s then a glass of hot sake is poured for the lamb yuba, a cube of four-hour braised lamb belly topped with silky layers of yuba mixed with Japanese mustard. It’s a dish that goes well with the theme of the “early spring” menu: a reminder that sometimes in the spring, a hit of winter comes back, and you’ll want something hearty.

I’ve never liked flowers, but the maguro flower is one I’d love to get. The rose petals, made from two type of lean tuna, sit on a bed of grated radish. The tender aged tuna goes wonderfully with the thickened daikon soy and scallion oil that surrounds the plate. I can see why this is considered a timeless dish, beautiful to look at and a treat to eat.

Every restaurant seems to be doing the flash fried scale-on amadai. Don’t get me wrong, I love the dish and am not complaining, but it’s such a fan favourite that it’s gracing everyone’s menu. Aburi Hana creates an amadai cauliflower, where the tilefish is charbroiled then flash fried. We’re told that if we want a spoon to enjoy the dashi and cauliflower sauce at the end to just ask. I got it right at the beginning and was glad that I could have a spoon of the savoury sauce with every taste of the fish.

My heart went a flutter seeing the kamo akamiso containing two of my favourite ingredients – roasted duck and maitake mushroom – on one plate. While the fowl is a touch chewy, it’s nonetheless flavourful from being smoked and the skin having lovely crispiness. You really need a strong protein to hold up against the deep rich miso sauce, that gives the dish a savoury taste that’s balanced off by a sweet burst from the honey pearls. My only complaint is the wine pairing, which tasted off and was much too light for the dish.

Aburi Hana ends with what they think is their WOW dish, the wagyu uni. Essentially, a roll of sushi rice topped with tons of uni, wagyu, and black truffle shavings, I can see it’s an expensive dish. But expensive ingredients don’t always make for a delicious dish. Firstly, the seared on “just one side” wagyu needed blowtorching before serving as cold fatty beef is not for me. When something is so fat, I find it best served hot so the blubber melts. After all, bacon is also fat and does anyone want to eat raw bacon?

We’re then told it’s been cut into two to help us eat the roll. If that’s the case, it’d be even better cut into four for more manageable bites. Ever try to shove a Twinkie sized item wrapped with chewy meat and wispy shavings in your mouth? It isn’t pretty or easy. Alas, the dish was a lot of flash, but no wow.

If anything, what I enjoyed most was the shot glass of condensed Kyoto miso soup included as the chaser. The thick umami broth was tasty and special.

How the chocolate Japanese ginger dessert came to be Aburi Hana’s most “timeless” dessert is beyond me. Ultimately, it’s a fluffy flourless chocolate cake topped with ginger crème anglaise and cubes of poached pear. I like to think it’s Chef Nakagawa’s way of leaning into showcasing local Canadian ingredients but then am told that the chocolate comes from Madagascar. It was a weird ending for a kaiseki meal.

I much preferred the yuzu macaron and caramel tuille petit fours that ended the dinner. Certainly, more French than Japanese, but at least better than something I could have ordered at Moxies.   

As much as I’ve pointed out the flaws of some dishes, there were also some incredible ones in the meal (I would love to eat the monaka and maguro flower again). And while there was little chef interaction at the “Chef’s counter”, Aburi Hana offers attentive service – my water glass was never more than two inches empty; chopsticks were replaced if there’s even a drop of sauce left; and they even replaced the toothpick dish for my Manhattan just because it wasn’t shiny enough.

There’s been significant press for LSL (Leroy, Saito and Le Squer) so my post isn’t going to re-hash the pedigree of the restaurant with three Michelin chefs at it’s helm. If you’re interested in learning more about these aspects, read Toronto Life, which wrote a very in-depth article.

Even before stepping into the restaurant, I received a text from Matthieu, their maître d’, inquiring about celebrations or food aversions. It’s reminiscent of an Eleven Madison experience, except Matthieu’s message was punctuated with an emoticon so there was a polished but friendly-casual quality to the interaction.

The experience continued at the restaurant, each team member introducing themselves by name as they welcomed, took our jackets, and led us to our seats. The introductions and casual banter put us at east to strike up conversations… the once quiet dining room was soon buzzing by the end of the first course.

Their 9-course tasting menu ($680 per person) started with a trio of small bites that we’re told to eat from the front to back:

• Beginning with a ginger and citrus Campari foam that burst in the mouth. It’s not overpowering but did wake up the palette and cleanse it for the second.
• The hairy crab tart’s briny flavour screamed of ocean (in a good way) so the crustacean was highlighted in the bite. We go from sour to salty.
• Lastly, a sweet bite with a generous portion of foie gras sandwiched between crunchy coffee crisps and topped with passionfruit jelly. Imagine having a really decadent sweet-and-salty candy bar.

LSL doesn’t keep you waiting for their signature dish: a peeled Amela tomato stuffed with finely diced tuna and topped with Kristal caviar. It’s something Chef Didier Leroy created for a dinner with Yo-Yo Ma that made him cry. It looks deceptively simple and features expensive ingredients (an $8 tomato for one) that gets diners excited. Having tried the caviar by itself, the ingredient solo would have been very pungent but once combined with the fruit and fish became amazingly fresh and light.

That natural sweetness continues with the Hokkaido scallop crudo, a dish that sounds Japanese but has a unique European flair. The scallop was meaty and fresh, topped with top-shelf uni flown in from Japan. It makes for a lusciously creamy bite. Yet, what surprised me most were the crunchy bits of dehydrated scallop reduction that gave the dish crunch and an umami touch.

My favourite plate was the crispy scale amadai where the fish was flash fried, so the meat becomes flaky, and the scales create a crunchy topping. It arrived with a warm ball of brioche that was perfect for wiping up every drop of the delicious beurre blanc. Good to the last drop.

The duo of squab was a close second place, the breast cooked beautifully with its tender meat and crispy skin. Sitting on a layer of rich pâté and crispy toast, the fowl becomes a sweet and delicate contrast. I don’t know how I feel about the pâté, it felt like too much. I feel the squab would work better on its own or with something more neutral like fish liver mousse and crispy potato.

I’m glad they brought out moist napkins and welcomed us to eat the squab leg with our hands. The savoury crispy bite was a star, and if I were at home, I’d probably continue nibbling on the bone to get at all the flavours. And not a drop of the citrus red wine jus was wasted given it’s paired with a heavenly crispy baguette.

How did the chefs prepare the rack for the seared lamb? The lollipop was so big that it must have been carefully carved to ensure all the adjacent lamb stayed on one bone. Regardless, LSL knows how to prepare meat well, the lamb was tender, juicy, and perfectly seasoned. I liked that the chefs showed restraint with the salt and allowed the sauces to flavour - mustard, black garlic puree, and a jalapeno sauce. I thoroughly enjoyed the accompanying crunchy relish and had every bite of it.

Some of the refreshing relish would pair nicely with the goat cheese tarte. Other diners were raving about the pastry – all the melted cheese, a buttery tart shell, and the Périgord black truffle shavings didn’t hurt.  Indeed, it’s a rich finish (likely a stand-in for the cheese course), but I felt it lacked something. After all, it’s just cheese. Perhaps a larger portion of salad, a creamy element within the tarte, or maybe more accompaniments. Something more than just melted cheese.

A trilogy of grapefruit didn’t sound like the most interesting dessert but was a great finish… especially following the decadent tarte. Layers of citrusy sugar crisps sandwich grapefruit and other sorbets to create a refreshing, not overly sweet, but satisfying ending. LSL marinates the grapefruit to remove bitter elements, and you’re left with a great winter dessert providing a boost of vitamin C.

The mignardises arrive with glass of tea that’s tempered perfectly so it doesn’t scald but is still hot and flavourful. It’s paired with a just-out-of-the-oven madeleine that’s oh so airy. And after a delicious bite, when you’re disappointed it wasn’t larger, you get a second one – Halleluiah! The raspberry and chocolate tarte was crispy and well balanced, but it’s the last jammy kumquat bite that’s so surprising. A stream of sunshine floods the mouth that finishes savoury. Is summer around the corner?

We each left with a little box of treats: nutty almond cake bites and more madeleines. Great for a late-night snack, a sweet for breakfast, or a nibble to accompany an afternoon tea.

All the wine pairings ($360 per person) balanced out the food, never fighting to be the star but complimenting it well. At one point I was falling behind with four glasses in front of me but was assured not to rush. Saving a taste for the other dishes isn’t a bad idea as it’s always nice to contrast different flavours.

And if you have any questions about the food, Chef Didier Leroy is on hand the entire night taking time to chat one-on-one. He’s like a homeowner welcoming a guest to the table: building a rapport, while doing a huge push to explain why LSL is Michelin worthy. It’s as if there are Michelin inspectors sitting amongst the diners and we’re going to get the hard sell.

At times, it became awkward. It’s one thing to be proud of the team, the luxe ingredients being imported, or even highlight the special touches like always having Didier at the helm and the handwritten affirmations in the bathroom. But, once we get to comparing LSL to other Michelin starred restaurants and always referencing the rating agency, it becomes too much.

Personally, I have no doubt LSL will be presented a star, if not two, in 2025. I would just encourage the team to let it happen naturally and focus on what they’re already doing well: they’re such a welcoming restaurant that makes me want to return; and the food was inventive but approachable, respectful to the ingredients themselves. The star(s) will come, no campaigning required.

Have a glance at Toronto’s Michelin list and you’ll find a host of Japanese restaurants earning stars, including Sushi Masaki Saito who claimed the city’s only two-star ranking. Give it a year or two, but I sense the newly opened Kappo Sato will join the list as well.

Like the other contenders, Kappo Sato serves an omakase menu offered at two price points, $260 and $320, the later includes an additional sashimi platter and sake steamed fish. Both courses, while delicious, weren’t the highlight of my meal, so if you have a dainty appetite the $260 option will leave you satisfied.

With sixteen courses, the $320 omakase left me pleasantly full. To start, pieces of skinless fried eggplant that were nice and creamy. Although, it would be even better served warm, especially when topped with cold uni and caviar. Paired with cubes of sweet poached lobster, the “small” seasonal dish was wonderfully decadent, just a taste of the things to come.

More uni followed in the appetizer platter. In this case, the sea urchin mixed with yuba or thin sheets of soy that’s formed in the tofu making process. The two are a good combination, the silkiness of the tofu skin glides across the tongue capturing the flavourful savoury gelee while mixed with the creamy uni. The wasabi adds a spike of spice that’s surprisingly powerful for the miniscule portion of the condiment.

The cool yuba complimented the hot fried tile fish, a bite of meaty whitefish with crunchy deep-fried scales. The fish is cooled down with grated radish and a carefully split snap pea garnishes the dish for colour.

Sato’s sashimi course is very different, the fish adorned with other ingredients rather than leaving the seafood plain. The sea eel was topped with plum paste and tangy sisho flower and the lean 10-day aged tuna with Japanese mountain yam and egg yolk. Some of it works - like the plum paste and sisho flower – adding a refreshing element to the fish, others don’t - like the whipped mountain yam and egg yolk – creating something with the consistency of slime.

The nyumen or soup course features a bowl of dashi filled with silky delicious somen noodles. The slice of sea bream was good, but I found its softness too close to the texture of the noodles and would have liked a protein that had some bite or crunch.

We’re told what makes kappo cooking different is that the chef cooks in front you, rather than preparing ingredients in a behind-the-scenes kitchen and merely assembling dishes at the counter. The tempura course highlights the concept best as each of the three items were individually fried and presented.

Three condiments - lemon, salt, and ponzu – provides flavour to the tempura. Don’t worry, you’ll be given instructions on what to use with each item. We’re told to use the lemon and salt for half of the sweet young swordfish and then the ponzu for the second half. They should be more specific on which side of the fish to use each on as the ponzu would have better masked the slight bitterness of the head, while the lemon and salt would let the freshness of the body and tail portion shine. Sadly, I swapped the two.  

Seasonal vegetables of asparagus and fava beans follow, both just cooked through and paired nicely with the ponzu.  

Yet it’s the finisher that really excites, a meaty raw-in-the-middle scallop wrapped in sisho leaf that’s sweet and fragrant. It does need to be drained longer so the batter remains crispy, and I’d suggest sprinkling the salt on (rather than dipping the scallop into the salt) to avoid having it slide out of the tempura coating.

Kappo Sato sets up the meal with a host of video worthy shots, the first being the broiled smoked dish where a gleaming dome was filled with smoke and the cover removed table side. Despite all the fume, the flavours just singed the fish with a smoky essence, the centre of bonito and tuna still tasted neutral.

We’re told the tuna is a lean variety, but it’s so nicely marbled that it can match any otoro, flooding my mouth with a sweet richness. Crispy arrow root chips are given to help cleanse the palette but could easily make for an addictive tv-side snack.

Like the sashimi, Sato’s sushi were beautiful flavourful bites, the bluefish topped with shallot, scallion, and wasabi with the rice nicely warmed. Personally, I would tone down shallot as it was a tad pungent for the fish, nonetheless it was still tasty.

The saba hand roll was served taco style, the rice and fish sandwiched between sisho and crispy seaweed. Another inventively flavourful dish that’s different from what you’d normally receive. It’d be even better if there was a bit of glaze put onto the mackerel.

Sitting in a sweetened vinegar, the mozuku seaweed was silky and reminded me of fat choi but milder and more delicate. It made for a refreshing palette cleanser before the richer grilled unagi, which was lightly brushed with a sweet and savoury glaze. Slightly crispy around the edges, the freshwater eel went nicely with the sansho pepper leaf and wasabi.

If there was any alcohol used in the sake-steamed red snapper it must have evaporated in the cooking process as there wasn’t much flavour to the fish and napa cabbage. Hence, the dish really relied on the house-made ponzu dipping sauce. I like the concept of the dish, but it could have been pulled out of the oven earlier as the fish was a tad overdone.

Two types of tofu follow, the first featured in the cold dish and made with sesame so it had a rich nutty essence. The addition of Sakura, mushroom, and dried shrimp makes for a fragrant bite, although I did find the dried shrimp a bit overpowering with the tofu.  

The second traditional soy tofu sat under a mound of lightly cooked wagyu in a beef consommé. I normally love wagyu but being poached in broth doesn’t do it justice as everything merely tastes oily. My friend described it best as saying it’s like having a non-crispy bacon soup. Should they want to keep it in slices, rolling the beef around asparagus, enoki, or white chives would have been a better choice.

I kept eyeing the copper domes sitting on cooking elements by our counter. Its contents were finally revealed in our last savoury course as the seafood pot-cooked rice. Just close your eyes and inhale as the cover is lifted as the sweet seafood aroma of cooked crustaceans is so intoxicating.

Cooked with dashi the sticky rice became fluffy but still firm, almost like a drier risotto. Studded with clams, rehydrated shrimp, and fish the rice was already teeming with seafood essence but made even richer with a generous portion of ikura (salmon roe). At Kappo Sato you won’t leave hungry because a second helping of rice is available and offered. This was all washed down with a hot mild miso soup.

Just save room for dessert as all three courses were delicious. Firstly, a slice of musk melon that’s so sweet and refreshing. Its sweetness is contrasted by a glass of hot tea that’s so wonderful to sip on after a filling meal.

All the while, an ice cream machine sits on the counter whirling around and holding the second dessert, a freshly made soymilk ice cream. The cold soft serve was paired with azuki bean paste and a matcha shortbread cookie. While there’s a light sweetness to the dish, we’re given a tiny vessel of brown sugar syrup to add to the soymilk dessert to our liking. Use it, I love how it enhanced the bean and ice cream’s flavours.

To end, a strawberry daifuku that’s a mound of azuki with sweet strawberry pieces topped with a delicate sheet of soft mochi. Savour the single kuromame, a sweet black soybean, topping to daifuku that breaks apart to reveal a smooth beany centre. It’s served with another matcha tea, this time light and frothy so there’s a latte quality to the drink minus the dairy.

Aside from his culinary training, Chef Takeshi Sato achieved other accomplishments including being a sake sommelier and qualified to prepare a Japanese tea ceremony – hence the final two cups of matcha served with dessert. He jokingly says he loves drinking, another common theme that seems to run through the upscale Japanese chefs of Toronto.

Chef Sato leads an all-female kitchen brigade who artfully creates and plates the dishes. Takeshi has decades of cooking experience from working in a Michelin restaurant in Tokyo, helming Toronto’s Zen restaurant, and most recently being the official chef of the Japanese Consulate General in Toronto. Now it’s his turn to be an owner of a restaurant in his name, when will his star come?

Tucked in the Japanese Cultural Centre, walking into Kaiseki Yu-Zen Hashimoto transports you to another country. Given their limited seating, their doors may be locked, so give the posted number a call and in no time, someone will greet you at the entrance and lead you through the orange torii gates into the dining room.

There’s so much to take in that the first ten minutes is like sensory overload. Take a deep breath and get ready for the meal; Hashimoto only serves three tables an evening, there’s plenty of time to explore after dinner. So, settle into your private dining room and decompress for the meal to come.   

Hashimoto describes kaiseki as “much of an art form as a style of food preparation” and this is certainly accurate. Each dish was beautiful and like a gift waiting to be unwrapped; a sense of excitement settled over me as I lifted the dome from many of the courses.

The eight-course meal ($350 per person) began with an onjyaku-zen (amuse bouche) consisting of three hearty soups designed to warm-up the stomach. Hashimoto’s saikyo miso soup wasn’t overly salty but rather rich in umami made with white miso, topped with a braised carrot, and a pea-sized amount of mustard to add an expected spice against the broth. Meanwhile, the nutty flavour that burst through the cube of goma (sesame) tofu was incredible, almost bordering bitter if it weren’t balanced out by the thick savoury soup. If anything, I could have done without wasabi on the tofu as the sesame taste was already so pungent.

Of all three bowls, my favourite was also the simplest and what Hashimoto calls “seasoned rice”. It’s like a thick congee studded with cubes of sweet soft squash and topped with slivers of salty dried kelp (?). The bowl was lovely and comforting and had us wanting another taste of it to end the meal.

Paper thin slices of tennen madai (line caught sea bream) was featured in the sashimi course, so delicate that it’s like eating flower petals made of fish. Around the plate were three agar jellies flavoured with ginger, carrot, and seaweed, as well as a washer-sized daikon filled with thinly julienned pickled vegetables. It’s a much lighter dish following the onjyaku-zen and really showcases the knife skills of Chef Masaki Hashimoto.

Diners are asked to refrain from wearing strong scents to ensure they’re able to enjoy the sensory experience of the food. The yuzu aroma that escapes from the owan-mono was so refreshing, although at first whiff, it leaves me wondering if a citrusy soup is something I’d enjoy.

Hashimoto didn’t disappoint, balancing the yuzu in a savoury consommé and pairing it with a host of rich flavours: a silky chawanmushi (egg custard), a thick chewy rice cake, and a soft braised daikon. The slice of amadai (tile fish) was cooked perfectly and I loved that the fish’s scales were deep fried to form a crunchy garnish on top.

The yaki-mono (grilled course) featured a host of ingredients that were in-season during the autumn in Japan. Generally, I only have persimmons raw, yet somehow the fruit tastes so good baked, releasing more of its sweet flavours with chewy pieces of mochi included to soak up some of its juices. The fruit was so inventive that the grilled shima-aji (stripe jack) almost seemed secondary; I found the fish a tad overcooked and in need of a stronger glaze to make it stand out.

To finish the yaki-mono a host of seasonal produce were used as palette cleansers including crisp lotus root, a gooseberry topped with egg yolk (surprisingly, it works), mountain yam, and a lovely mountain peach that’s almost tastes like a cross between a plum and strawberry.

The Spice Girl’s song, When Two Becomes One, is what comes to mind when I think of the taki-awase course. The dish begins with ingredients being stewed separately – in this case, cubes of octopus, vegetables, squash, and daikon – and are then steam together to blend the flavours and aromas without causing the ingredients to become overcooked. After simmering for four hours, the octopus was so tender that if our server didn’t tell us what the protein was, I would have thought we were eating brisket.

Following the softer steamed dish was the shii-zakana (signature course), which provided a textural contrast with different crispy elements:

• Medallions of the most incredible chicken teriyaki encapsulating a soft walnut and wrapped in a thin crispy skin. I could munch on rounds of these in lieu of chicken wings.
• A ball of flavourful mashed Japanese potatoes filled with wagyu beef cubes and rolled into crispy rice grains creating something that rivals arancini with its crunchy and soft elements. Of course, in this case, instead of the traditional ground beef and peas, it’s filled with rich wagyu. Oh boy.
• Even the garnish of popped wheat was edible; a bit fibrous when I took a bite of the entire stalk, but once we started picking out the individual grains from the husk, became almost like a nutty popcorn.

Guilt washed over me as I took my first bite of Chef Hashimoto’s hand carved radish crane… it must have taken so much time to carve its delicate neck and legs! It was the last thing consumed so that I could appreciate its beauty before finally dipping it into the carrot sauce and devouring the refreshing décor.

The last savoury course brought a bowl of sticky rice topped with slices of A5 Hyogo wagyu, the prized beef from the Kobe region. While it was delicious, I do wish the beef was left thicker and cut into cubes so that more of the fatty rich flavours would be locked in and flow onto the tongue.

A bowl of noodles and soup is always a delight. In this case, a cha (tea) soba served in a fragrant dashi broth that was good to the last drop. What a lovely way to end and cleanse the palette before dessert.

Like many Japanese desserts, the mizu-mono was a fruit plate prominently featuring the expensive Shizuoka musk melon. A sizeable melon is upwards of $200 a fruit and commands the premium as supposedly they are raised to only have one melon per plant to ensure all the flavours are concentrated into one fruit and there being less of a chance of the melon having blemishes.

Indeed, every time I’ve had a slice it’s the sweetest melon ever and tastes like a cross between cantaloupe and honeydew. What also makes it different is the texture: when you have a normal melon it tends to be very soft and sweet in the centre, then gets hard and flavourless as you approach the find. The musk melon tends to have a more uniform sweetness and tenderness throughout.

It’s strange when I’m excited to try fruit, at Hashimoto they also provided a white strawberry encapsulated in a light jelly and topped with condensed milk. Truthfully, it just tasted like a lighter Ontario strawberry that you can purchase at a farmer’s market when it’s in season… I don’t think I would pay the ~$40 for a pint. It was my first experience having a shine muscat, which was like a sweeter and juicier globe grape without seeds. Set in gelatin and adorned with a gold leaf it’s crazy to think that a bunch of these grapes can be upwards of $100.

Aside from the fruit, we were treated to a leaf of uber-rich matcha pudding and a dollop of sweet azuki beans topped with a crispy candy. My recommendation is that Chef Hashimoto switches out the rock sugar with pop rocks to really give the diners a surprise.

With an extensive sake menu, if you’re not familiar with the Japanese spirit, they have a “sommelier” to help you choose one based on your preferences for other alcohol. Letting her know that we like a dry crisp wine, she recommended the Okunomatsu Junmai Ginjo Genshu Arabashiri that was offered in a half bottle on weekends ($55), which does have a less sweet finish.

For those who are abstaining from alcohol, they also offer pots of fragrant tea ($9 a person) or water served from a kimono clad Swell bottle ($7 a person).

Incredible surroundings and beautiful unique dishes aside, what makes dining at Kaiseki Yu-Zen Hashimoto an unforgettable experience is their service. With only three tables nightly, we were in good hands – just like in Japan, the hospitality rises to another level.

It evens ends warmly with our server offering to take a picture of us, which they email to us later that evening along with pictures of the dishes sampled. It’s a simple and sweet gesture that sets the restaurant apart, from the moment you enter and after you return home, dining at Kaiseki Yu-Zen Hashimoto is a true sensory experience.