First Impressions of Silvers Omakase

Chef Lennon Silvers Lee developed quite a following—and earned a Michelin star—while at Sushi Bar Montecito (now Sushi by Scratch Restaurants), so it came as no surprise that prime reservations at his new Funk Zone restaurant, Silvers Omakase, have been getting snapped up quickly since it opened earlier this month. Scarcity is a factor: Silvers can accommodate just 150 people per week, and a third of those are for a 9:30 p.m. (!) seating.

During our interview a few weeks ago, Lee bristled when I compared Silvers to Sushi by Scratch, which was founded by his brother and built into a chain, but squint and the two restaurants could be twins. The base price is $185 at both, and whether you’re at one of the other, you will wait in a separate room for the other patrons to arrive, be offered a welcome beverage, get ushered as a group into the main room, where each seat has a place card, and served a set menu of around a dozen small dishes, with an emphasis on nigiri.

At Silvers, there’s a stark contrast between the modest building and the stylized interior, and I liked feeling as if I had entered a different world, although arriving during daylight can be disorienting; the first room, with its windows covered up, is dimmer than it appears above. The furniture is arranged in two groupings that seat five, so you’re likely to be joined by another party. We offered to make room for a couple looming awkwardly nearby, which seems like something the host could facilitate.

In the main room—also windowless, but more sedate and elegant than the antechamber—the 10 seats are in a row, facing the chefs, a gorgeous floral arrangement, and a mural of mountain ranges here and in Japan. The chairs are comfortable and the foot rail is a nice touch.

There are no descriptions on the menu because the chefs introduce each dish as it’s presented. I preferred the food at Silvers to that at Sushi by Scratch Restaurants: the emphasis is on highlighting the flavor of the main ingredient than zhooshing it up. And there were no disappointments in the entire lineup. While the sushi was excellent, I’m no aficionado, which is probably why three highlights for me were the luscious Wagyu, the raspberry-and-sea-buckthorn sorbet, and the uni rice with caviar, in which the crispy puffed rice really popped. One issue I have with any sushi-centric tasting menu is that the texture remains consistent from dish to dish. Another is that you often leave a little hungry, a nettlesome feeling at this price point. (The prix fixe at Silvers doesn’t include drinks, tip, or tax; if you drink only water, which is included, and you tip 20 percent, you’ll pay around $240.) If I remember correctly, Sushi by Scratch gives each patron a bottomless bowl of pickles and offers the option of à la carte sushi at the end.

As is the norm at any chef’s-counter establishment, the experience is more like immersive theater than a traditional restaurant visit. The meal doesn’t build to the climax of an entrée, with dessert as the denouement, and the service is not meant to be unobtrusive. Instead, the chefs present a dish—one bite, maybe two—every five to seven minutes, paired with exposition about the ingredients and/or the preparation. Invariably, you then talk to the other patrons about how much you liked it. And watching the chefs’ precision and artistry, and sensing the passion they have for what they do, is a large part of the appeal. I very much enjoyed that aspect at Silvers, particularly as the evening went on and everyone loosened up. Where you’re seated will impact how convivial your night is. The patrons at each end have a wall on one side—i.e., better for introverts—and because the 10 seats are in one row (with no corner, as at Sushi by Scratch), the folks on the inside of parties larger than two may feel a bit left out of the fun.

While Sushi by Scratch benefits from more prestigious location—much of Montecito won’t venture beyond Coast Village Road for dinner—Silvers has the edge when it comes to luxuriousness. The dishes and glassware are probably the loveliest in the county, and no one forces you to do time in the Montecito Inn lobby. The exit, however, feels a little like you’re being kicked out (or, more kindly, like a celebrity avoiding the paparazzi): you pass through a curtain into a hallway and then through a back door off the parking lot. My companions agreed that one way to soften the re-entry into the real world would be to have a staffer outside, saying goodbye.

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