MSSM, and the illusion of accessible omakase.
Adapted from: the coveted chef-curated dinner.
You catch wind of a $98 omakase project from a Michelin-anointed Japanese chef and wish for its goodness to be true, but of course it’s not. Don’t be naive. It’s a business run by a candle tycoon and a cocky sushi prodigy. The latter—the eponymous Masaki Saito Sushi Master—honed his ego in New York, loves Gucci and hip hop, and can be credited for giving Toronto its first two-star establishment, Sushi Masaki Saito. Coming on the heels of that success, MSSM is the casual bone they’ve thrown to the people. Their vision? A Vision page on their website, that is: “to open the price point,” “to broadly educate the general public” about the traditional omakase offering. This narrative of value is appealing, easy to market, egalitarian, even. It’s also a mirage: the aspirational made accessible only through illusion. The Walmart Birkin of omakase.
Do not envision the serenity of a ryokan and a 200-year-old hinoki counter, which Sushi Masaki Saito offers. Instead, MSSM (the Ossington location, anyway) adopts the vibes of a hypebeast sneaker shop, with commisioned graffiti that lionizes the restaurant’s namesake chef alongside Canada’s most renowned groomer.
Do not look forward to the murmured reverence of traditional sushi counters. The overhead speakers will play you a litany of viral TikTok hits at a volume only to be rivaled by the clamor of diners struggling to be heard.
And even though the concept of omakase, which translates to “I’ll leave it up to you,” relinquishes all control to the restaurant, do not expect a slow, leisurely dining experience that’s paced appropriately. Instead, as you savor the last spoonful of dessert you’ll be interrupted by your waiter with the POS machine, signalling that the evening has come to an end.
“How was everything?” He’ll ask, but he won’t really be asking.
How was the fish? Fine, flavoured predominantly by marinade or blowtorch.
How was the rice? Loose, prone to falling apart before your hand can make it to your mouth.
How was the chef? Lovely and serious about his profession. His hands fluttered like bird wings as they shaped the contours of each nigiri before serving. It would be a spectacle if it didn’t feel like a charade. It would be beautiful if anyone bothered to look.
It’s not their fault. The space is conducive to chatter and designed for distraction—loud, clubby, with the food as an afterthought. It felt antithetical to all of my previous experiences of omakase, which some Saito-stans will tell you is the point.
I am no simp for elitist dining traditions, but I believe in committing to the bit. If you’re going to educate the masses about the principles of the art form—seasonal, intimate, attentive—then you owe it to them to give a faithful rendition. If you’re going for a lively, relaxed take on convenience sushi, don’t call it an omakase. MSSM straddles the two concepts and offers something that achieves neither. With the chef on the marquee and the in-this-economy pricepoint, it looks like a great deal. You’ll walk in thinking there’s value on the table, and leave feeling like you’re the one who’s been had.
MSSM Ossington
1221 Dundas St W.
Toronto