Why Omakase

There is a particular kind of courage in sitting down at a sushi counter, meeting the chef's eye, and saying the words that give the whole evening away: omakase — I leave it up to you. No menu. No ordering. No control. You hand the next two hours to a stranger and trust that they will spend them well.

It is, when you think about it, the same trust a son places in a father for the first eighteen years of his life. You don't choose the courses. You're handed them, one at a time, in an order someone wiser decided — and only much later do you realize how carefully each was timed.

This Father's Day there are no grandstands and no five red lights. There is a counter, a chef's hands, and a quiet hour. After a year of loud things, that felt like the right way to say thank you.

So, Dad: tonight you don't have to decide anything. Just sit. Omakase. I've got it from here.

— Bowen