If Truman Capote had ever traded his dirty martini for a Rising Sun cocktail and dined under the sleek glow of Kyoto-red torii gates in Times Square, he might have found himself at Fushimi—where modern Japanese cuisine meets performance art, and even the salmon seems to arrive with a knowing wink.
At Fushimi, the pandemonium of Manhattan yields to the glow of soft lighting and lacquered wood, dissolving into a space designed not for noise, but for nuance. Sake barrels sit in stoic repose above velvet-lined booths, while shadows play elegantly along mirrored surfaces. This is not merely dinner. It is immersion.
Presiding over this edible dreamscape is Max, the astute waiter whose precision rivals that of the chef’s knife. He does not serve so much as orchestrate, moving through the room with the kind of effortless command reserved for seasoned actors and spiritual guides. His recommendations are exacting, never indulgent. His timing is, quite simply, exquisite.
The meal begins in earnest with the Chef’s Choice sashimi—fifteen sculptural cuts arranged with monastic clarity. The tuna, in particular, evokes silk more than seafood, dissolving on the tongue with the restraint of old money and the confidence of new technique. The Blue Fin Toro Tasting follows in a velvet crescendo. Hononiku O-toro sashimi, haranaka chu-toro sushi, and an immaculate maki roll form a triptych of indulgence that defies the speed of the city outside.
The grilled salmon, bathed in a brown butter sauce of startling elegance, arrives next. Its flesh yields delicately beneath the fork, revealing a center of perfect blush. This is not the overworked salmon of boardroom lunches, nor the overly precious version found in boutique cafés. This is salmon as ceremony—rich, clear, and deeply considered.
For those in pursuit of drama, the Fire & Ice Roll offers a flamboyant interlude. Alaskan king crab, avocado, and cucumber are paired with seared filet mignon and a port wine reduction that smolders without overstatement. The Surf & Turf Roll, featuring spicy tuna, white tuna, and kani, comes wrapped in rice paper and lightly kissed by the fryer, yielding a satisfying crunch that contrasts its oceanic softness. These are not dishes for the indecisive. They are declarations.
Fushimi’s cocktail program deserves its own symposium. The Fushimi 75 marries Nikka gin and lychee schnapps with champagne in a crystalline flute that fizzes like gossip. The Masamune, composed of Iwai Japanese Whisky, Campari, St. Germain, and orange bitters, is both floral and forthright. Each drink is calibrated for pleasure without pretense.
Weekend brunch, known affectionately as Besties Brunch, transforms the space into a theatre of modern ritual. The $39 prix-fixe menu includes grilled salmon, tuna sushi, and the ever-indulgent American Dream Roll. Diners are invited to record their own podcast on-site—a brilliant fusion of content creation and culinary indulgence. Professional-grade microphones, HD cameras, and a dedicated equipment manager ensure that each guest leaves not only satisfied, but broadcast-ready. This is brunch as brand, brunch as memoir.
Founded in 2003, Fushimi has extended its vision across the city, with locations in Williamsburg, Bay Ridge, and Staten Island. Each carries the spirit of the original atelier, though the Times Square location remains its magnum opus. The design is global in language, yet deeply rooted in Japanese reverence. The result is a setting where the extraordinary feels effortless.
Fushimi does not perform for applause. It performs for those who understand timing, texture, and the slow seduction of restraint. It is not a restaurant for everyone. It is a restaurant for those who know the difference.
