I often get asked how I became a food writer. I don’t have a culinary degree, nor have I been a professional cook in any capacity.
I could maybe give myself the benefit of highlighting the fact that I had been a foodie for years before sampling different cuisines from many countries and great restaurants, but that’s not really the whole story. Before I wrote about restaurants, I wrote about film. Mostly critiquing them and often negatively at that. However, during the near decade of my time covering film and meeting some fantastic people in the industry, I learned how to deeply appreciate an art form and, more importantly, how to identify a great story.
Now, many may not see it as such, but a well-crafted and thought-out menu, especially in a fixed dining setting such as a Nikkei-Omakase, is a very well thought-out story. Just like a film or a good album, some are more abstract than others. However, the menu at Kansha, the latest place I’ve had the honor to check out, felt very grounded and personal to the life of the brilliant and humble Chef Jorge Dionicio, formerly of Sushi Noz and O Ya. Now I’m going off a limited sample size, but Chef Jorge’s background, similar to mine, is quite unorthodox. I’ve yet to see a classically trained sushi chef with Hispanic roots or one who takes inspiration from it in his menu. There are ingredients on this menu that I, as someone with South American roots myself, have never seen outside of the home of a family member, and ingredients that I have actually never heard of. To be fair, what else should I have expected from a chef who trained in Michelin-starred establishments? This menu was one of the best stories I’ve seen all year, and I can’t wait to tell you about the great experience I had eating here.
Before we even get into the food, allow me to set the scene. Kansha is a rather cozy restaurant on the Upper East Side and is split into two floors. The ground floor, which features a regular menu, and a secluded private second floor reserved just for those taking part in the Omakase. We were seated at the Hinoki wood counter, which was adorned with placemats made from lliklla, a traditional Peruvian textile cut from native Peruvian cloth, which was also accented by Japanese tableware collected by Chef Jorge during his time in Japan, creating a visual narrative that mirrors the meal itself. Additionally, I believe this counter, which sees two seatings a night, only seats 6 people, making it a very exclusive reservation to land in my opinion, and as you’ll read on, one worth securing. The incredible staff saw to it that we were set in our seat and brought us a drinks menu. My friend and I opted for a carafe of sake, and to my surprise, they let us pick which of the whimsical or serious sake cups to drink from. That was a nice touch, and notably, there was no menu for what dishes were coming up. However, I was excited to be surprised.
The meal opened with a striking duo: mongo ika, cuttlefish paired with a bright Peruvian mignonette, and a ceviche full of garlic and nutty depth. The cuttlefish was clean and meaty, its natural sweetness sharpened by the sauce, while the ceviche leaned toward refreshment—bold yet balanced. Easily one of the more unorthodox openings for an Omakase, as it played heavily on Chef Jorge’s roots.
From there, the Peruvian influences remained. Hirame with kyuri and avocado followed, sourced from South Korea. It was delicate, with a surprising natural sweetness, lifted further by the coolness of cucumber and creaminess of avocado.
Then came the amadai matsukasa, touched with hot oil and red pepper. The fish was salty, but in a deeply satisfying way. The little red pepper, one I’m familiar with and goes by many names down in South America, was cool, spicy, and invigorating, cutting through richness without overwhelming. I can’t just leave it at though. Those red peppers are insanely spicy when compared to the typical Western pallet, and yet here, it was like eating a slightly spicy fruit. This achievement alone set the tone for me for the rest of the meal that Chef Jorge was no ordinary sushi chef.
The Japanese amberjack with grilled shallots stood out for its contrast—the fish was soft, pliant almost to the point of stickiness, while the shallots brought a brittle crispness that carried it forward.
Next was the chutoro with a Peruvian pico de gallo interpretation. It was lightly seared and tasted like a perfectly rare steak, a textural and flavor surprise I didn’t expect and love from lightly grilled tuna.
From here, however, we switched over to the Nigiri and went from Peruvian Japanese fusion to a much purer Japanese experience. To kick this off, we had sweet shrimp, which was a pleasant and often rare occurrence. It offered its namesake character in full, deep sweetness countered with a hit of salty lime.
Golden eye sea bream was pristine, a showcase of restraint with soy and wasabi lending just the right weight. This was quickly followed up by the striped jack mackerel, which was another one of those flawless bites—firm, balanced, perfectly tuned.
Next came the lean, blue fine tuna, which, when prepared by a master, always surprises me with how good it is.
Then the expected highlights and my favorites: otoro, Hokkaido uni, and Hokkaido scallops. The scallops were dressed with lemon zest and salt, leading to an extremely creamy texture that was pure perfection. This is easily the best scallop I’ve had this year.
The Hokkaido uni was a plunge into cold ocean waters—refreshing, elemental. For uni lovers, this is as close to heaven as you’ll come in a while.
But it was the bluefin otoro crowned with caviar that lingered most vividly. It was smooth, creamy, and decadently rich. Easily one of my top three favorite bites of the year, the sort of dish that etches itself into your memory. I can’t deny that weeks later, I’m still thinking about it.
The anago—eel—was meaty and generous, glazed with a sauce that seemed designed to remind you why eel is a beloved classic.
A tuna roll and miso soup offered closure before the transition into the dessert section, which began with tamago. The more I’ve had sushi, the more I understand why an old-fashioned view can be taken of grading a sushi chef on their tamago, as if they can nail the little things like this, they take great care of the rest, right? Needless to say, it was fantastic. It came chilled and flan-like, sweet and custardy. It’s the sort of Tamago you can find readily at Tsukiji fish market, but better. And I must say, incredibly beautifully presented as well, which is a detail many others do not do.
Dessert carried a personal story from the chef: a brownie paired with lucuma ice cream. Credit where credit’s due, as I’ve never heard of lucuma before. It is actually a Peruvian superfood that locals make an ice cream out of. Upon realizing that all of the local spots in Peru were basically from the same source, Chef Jorge sought to refine it and mold it into this dish today. The verdict is pure astonishment. If you told me there was a fruit called lucuma that, when mashed and made into an ice cream, tasted like pure caramel, I would call it an AI-generated TikTok nonsense, but I had tasted it with my own mouth. The lucuma had the flavor of caramel but cleaner and lighter, perfectly complementing the brownie’s richness.
I thought it would be the end of the meal, but there was one final note left. A literal note, actually, enclosed in a black envelope and sealed with a red wax stamp. Inside was the menu covering all of the tasty morsels we covered in today’s dining experience. It was certainly the most interesting way I’ve seen a menu presented after a dining experience. Something to truly ensure you won’t forget your meal here.
So what was the story of Kansha’s menu? Well, it was a deeply personal ballad about a man who grew up in Peru, while they had a Japanese president, and had the seeds of Japanese culture implanted at a young age. It’s about a humble chef who made his way to America, Omaha specifically, where he trained to be a sushi chef and was making decent money. However, he realized he would never be a master if he stayed. So, he moved to the coast and trained under a true master, where he worked grueling hours and went through numerous trials to prove he had not only the skill and talent to be a sushi chef, but also the character. And through each trial, he proved a victor. And despite Japan having a great deal of influence over his life, he never forgot his Peruvian roots. The whole first half of the menu relishes in the mix of Peruvian and Japanese flavors, with Japanese traditional flavors encapsulating the second half, much like his incredibly busy and all-encompassing life as a sushi chef. However, you can’t forget about the final lucuma note to this great story. It’s the piece that ties it all together and brings the story home.
After the meal, Chef Jorge told us in detail how he became a sushi chef. It truly is a great story, but I fear it’s one you must ask him in person. He’s a humble man who wouldn’t openly talk about himself, as he’d prefer to let his work do the talking, and his work has a lot of great things to say. Additionally, at the price point Kansha finds itself at, it might actually be unmatched for its value. With all of the positives I’ve listed, I must say it’s a spot I’d strongly recommend.