Is Michelin’s Bib award for Royal Sushi a snub? Chef Jesse Ito takes the izakaya’s honors in stride.
No matter which way the Michelin Guide's announcements went this week, chef Jesse Ito knew one thing: Post-gala karaoke was required.
There were chef tears of joy, stunned looks from some unexpecting winners, and the silent sting of award-show snubs as the Michelin Guide announced its first-ever round of accolades for the Philadelphia restaurant scene Tuesday night.
But there was also some lingering confusion that followed the much-anticipated Kimmel Center ceremony. One of the biggest gasps of baffled surprise rippled through the crowd when Royal Sushi & Izakaya, a favorite predicted by many to earn a star, was instead awarded a Bib Gourmand.
The Bibs are widely coveted as Michelin’s nod to restaurants with “exceptionally good food at moderate prices.” Ten Philly restaurants were awarded Bib Gourmands, including Angelo’s, Dizengoff, and Pizzeria Beddia.
But how does Royal Sushi & Izakaya — where a seat at chef Jesse Ito’s omakase counter now clocks in at a city-high $355 — qualify? Is it now the world’s most expensive Bib Gourmand?
Michelin, which is renowned for secrecy, would not clarify its reasoning: “The Michelin Guide doesn’t reveal specifics,” said spokesperson Carly Grieff.
The answer, most logically, is that Royal has always been two distinct restaurants under a single name and roof, and the Bib most logically applies to the more casual one: the lively izakaya-style tavern that anchors the front of the Queen Village building, where a relatively affordable a la carte menu of cooked Japanese classics and sushi is served to a walk-ins-only crowd, with cooked items ranging from $6 to $38.
Ito’s luxury sushi tasting counter, meanwhile, hums along in a separate room in back, where Ito handcrafts every bite with artistry using some of the world’s most expensive ingredients. Such omakase counters are prime candidates for Michelin stars, including at least two (Boston’s one-star 311 Omakase and New York’s three-star Sushi Sho) that picked up accolades at the recent ceremony in Philadelphia.
But the 16 nightly seats of Ito’s omakase counter are so locked down with devoted regulars — who can rebook their seats for another meal before leaving their dinner — that even Michelin’s anonymous inspectors, it appears, could not score a reservation.
“They only ate at the izakaya,” surmises Ito from Michelin’s review, a glowing assessment of the izakaya’s menu range and high-quality ingredients, with only a passing mention acknowledging its “exclusive” omakase counter.
Ito was hardly a loser at the Michelin ceremonies, even if he didn’t win a star, because he was thrilled with the Bib acknowledgment: “I’m super-proud of the izakaya and this is very fitting for what it does … The stars are really great and obviously every chef wants that, but the Bibs will also prove useful once tourists come, especially next year for the FIFA World Cup and Philadelphia’s 250th anniversary.”
Nonetheless, the uncertainty of how Michelin might handle his dual-concept space has weighed on the chef, who knows the roller-coaster emotions and anxiety of awards program recognition more than most.
He’s experienced tremendous highs, such as this fall when his restaurant was named the 32nd best restaurant in North America by World’s 50 Best. He’s also repeatedly dealt with the disappointment of coming up just short with the James Beard Foundation, being named a finalist eight times — only to miss out every year, including once again this spring.
Ito said he’s considered various ways to more clearly separate the two concepts, or at least make the reservation process for the omakase more accessible.
“But I wouldn’t even know how to do that,” said Ito, who’s worked through some alternatives and fears that bots would ultimately snap up seats for scalping. “I’m able to have regulars this way, and we have the best guests with whom we’ve created real relationships over time. But I love having new people, too, and that definitely still happens.”
The exclusive nature of the omakase, and the unintended fallout from such limited reservations — especially with hopeful guests, including possibly judges for potential awards — was never intended. It just happened.
“I didn’t think about any of this award stuff when I was opening this restaurant nine years ago at age 27 on limited resources,” said Ito, whose initial goals were to support his parents and create something for himself.
As the restaurant continued to evolve and garner national attention, however, he’s had to learn to cope with the anxiety of increasing acclaim. And no matter how veteran the chef, the nerves always tighten the gut at an awards ceremony, when the announcement draws near. He’s learned the hard way to find a silver lining in whatever the results.
“Just because you’re not [ultimately] a winner doesn’t mean you’re not deserving,” says Ito. “That’s part of losing the Beard award eight times! You come away with the ability to enjoy the moment of just being recognized.”
Ito says he owes much of his current attitude to getting sober five years ago.
“Beforehand, I used to always crave that external hit, that numbing sensation of having fun. But now in my life, I find happiness in my routine and relationships, my business and personal journey. The awards? I’m happy to be a part of them — but they are not what defines us.”
What drives Ito is his passion for turning raw fish into edible art for the devoted customer base he values, and “to improve myself and the omakase a little bit each day,” he says, citing the Japanese philosophy of kaizen.
So, once the Michelin ceremony concluded — “a weight was lifted from my shoulders,” he says — and it was back to what he loves most. He went straight to dancerobot, his new restaurant in Rittenhouse Square where a Resy-sponsored after-party was in full bloom. He put on his apron and immediately busted out the premium uni and caviar to top hundreds of aka-taka toro rolls brought in from the izakaya, and strolled through the crowd with a tray, handing out $75 bites for free.
“Everyone was so relieved [it was over], we were just celebrating and having fun,” he said.
And then out came his secret weapon: the karaoke mic, an important Ito ritual for every post-awards party, no matter the result.
“I sang 'Creep' by Radiohead," he said, his usual song. “Then I left when the party was still bumping, because I didn’t want to go to bed too late.”
He had another busy day to prep for service at Royal Sushi & Izakaya ahead.