Did Someone Say Sashimi?

Prepare for sashimi to melt on your tongue in ways you never thought possible at Sushi|Bar.

Written by Delaney Willet | Photographed by Silas Fallstich

Bluefin Tuna Tartare, Ponzu, Soy, Avocado Mousse, Scallions, Ikura

I didn’t think a 17-course tasting menu existed outside the confines of Napa Valley’s French Laundry, but that is exactly what Montecito Inn’s newly opened Sushi|Bar accomplishes— culinary feats never before thought possible. It is the second of its kind—the first opened in Los Angeles in 2017 as part of Phillip Frankland Lee’s group, Scratch Restaurants, and has been selling out months in advance ever since. Phillip’s brother, Lennon is working magic while simultaneously charming guests behind the counter at Sushi|Bar.

Before my Sushi|Bar experience even began, I sensed that this would be more than just a meal. This was a well-oiled machine, and mere weeks after opening at that. A week before my reservation I received an email from Sushi|Bar’s hostess, asking me to arrive 15 minutes early to enjoy a specialty cocktail before our meal. As I breezed through Montecito Inn’s lobby at 5:45 for my 6 o’clock reservation it was as if the staff had been lying in wait, theatrically repositioning themselves for each guest’s special arrival. A couple and two other women were littered about a grand fireplace, sipping from saucers. I was escorted to a bar cart tucked away from the main drag of the lobby, where the hostess triple-checked that I had no dietary restrictions and went on to perform a ceremony of sorts with Japanese whiskey. She explained to me that in Japan, cocktails are poured with the intention of overflow to symbolize the abundance of spirit and joy. The mix of sake, ginger, lime juice, and Japanese whiskey tingled my taste buds, a warm-up for the adventure they were about to encounter.

Upon finishing our warm welcome cocktail, my four dinner companions and I were led to a rounded room on the other side of the inn. The anticipation amongst the group was palpable as we approached the door. Everyone seemed to be celebrating, whether it was in the spirit of sweethearts’ anniversary or simply

Spanish Blue Fin Chu-Toro with Italian Sturgeon Caviar, Housemade Soy Sauce, Fresh Wasabi & Sliced Scallions

Yellowtail, Sweet Corn Pudding, Wasabi, Sourdough Breadcrumbs

life itself. Curtains were drawn to obscure our view into the dining room and our hostess rang a small white doorbell that sat at eye-level. This speakeasy style of dining nodded to the Japanese sushi bars of the 1930s and further separated Sushi|Bar from any dining experience I have had before.

Inside, a menu of each of the seventeen courses was posted behind the bar and the seats were outfitted with a chalkboard denoting each guest’s name. The space was cozy in all the right ways, creating an intimacy with the dinner team and my fellow diners. Not a detail was missed. My water glass, along with my plate, was infallibly refilled before I noticed it was empty. A soft evening light shone in from Coast Village Road as the magic closed in before our eyes.

When presented with the oyster first course, I shuddered at the thought of slurping the slimy specimen. Then, the team let me know it was filled with caviar and fresh from the docks, and I decided this was the sort of dinner where one threw caution to the wind.

Sushi|Bar is as much an education as it is a meal. Outfitted with a mixologist, Head Chef Lennon Lee, and his sous chef, the diners had three overqualified teachers behind the bar. Along with the toro and caviar, I also consumed the facts that Santa Barbara has some of the world’s best, creamiest uni and Japanese beer tastes better in a cedar box, as it brings out the natural flavors.

The Real Seal Of Shimoda with Suntory Toki, Pomegranate, Smoked Honey, Green Tea Salt Rim

Morrow Bay Oyster with Caviar, Puffed Rice, Aerated Nigori Sake Foam

With the recommended house pairing, each course or two was matched with a wine, a sake, an original Japanese-inspired cocktail, or imported beer to complement the particular bite’s flavor. In the words of the house mixologist, this was a marathon, not a sprint. Wise words, too, as this was the sort of meal that made one want to hang on until the lights went off and management had to kindly tell them it was far past time to leave.

Before we were presented with the meal’s finale (dessert—a kaffir ice cream cube), the bar opened up to market specials that may have been missed in that night’s menu or repeats of any personal favorites. Naturally, I had to know how Chef Lee would prepare the truffle. A comfortable silence filled the room as we contentedly devoured our chosen bites. The chefs filled the space with a sort of farewell, presenting us with our final pour of cedar beer. This was their home, they told us, and we were their new friends. What greater sign of hospitality than opening up your home and sharing a beer?

Ubers inched closer and the group begrudgingly scattered from our seats. By the time we parted ways, I was equipped with a full stomach, more sushi facts than I knew what to do with, and seven new companions. After all, what brings people closer together than over pouring Japanese whiskey and fresh fish?

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