A personal “Zen Garden” offers each diner a few moments of meditative play before dishes arrive.
Photograph by Martha Williams
Atlanta’s high-end Japanese scene didn’t build slowly. It landed fully formed right after Covid, which is a dining prediction I could not have foretold given the intimate nature of most omakase dining. In just a few short years, the city has evolved from having a handful of high-end Japanese restaurants to boasting multiple Michelin-starred omakase restaurants, which offer a fixed menu the chef chooses. Those starred establishments are: Mujo, Hayakawa, Omakase Table, and O by Brush. What was once a niche genre has become a defining part of the city’s fine-dining culture, taking over last year’s Michelin awards to the chagrin of some people. Not me.
Along with that recognition came the prices. There are numerous omakase places where someone can eat for less than $150, but a typical high-end experience now starts around $200 per person before drink pairings, pricey add-ons, and service charges. Hayakawa is $315. At that level, we diners expect more than just the best seafood and precision. Sure, the nigiri is expertly made, the uni luxurious, and the toro glistening with perfect marbling. However, after a while, everything starts to blend, and the meals can sometimes feel interchangeable.
Ryokou, a new kappo-style restaurant in Adair Park (just south of Mercedes-Benz Stadium) is owned by chef Leonard Yu who also owns Omakase Table. The restaurant builds its identity by sharing its passion for knowledge and exploration. Kappo means “to cut and to cook” in Japanese. Guests can expect a multicourse meal crafted by chef Paul Gutting, featuring both cooked and raw items. Hidden inside the Abrams Fixtures development, the restaurant is hard to find without help, and we wandered around before a suited staff member ushered us through a series of doors. The industrial exterior gave way to a calm, warm space with just the right amount of exposed brick, an onyx counter, and a glowing cabinet of twinkling bottles of illuminated liquors. It felt like a hidden secret, and the feeling echoes Ryokou’s theme. The name means “travel” in Japanese, and the restaurant leans into the concept, but it’s not heavy-handed.
Beverage options include two sake pairing tiers along with a small selection of sakes by the glass and the bottle, cocktails, wines, one beer, and curated teas. A tea pairing is also in the works, which is delightful for guests who would rather avoid the sugar in mocktails. A flute of junmai sake adorned with cherry blossoms was elegant and floral. A sparkling tea from Copenhagen, with soft acidity and notes of hibiscus, was so good that I wished I could take a bottle home to drink on a hot summer day.
Rather than a traditional sushi-only omakase, Ryokou offers an eight-course kappo-style tasting menu (versus the 20-course meal at Omakase Table) with optional add-ons, such as shaved truffles, that explores Japan’s regional cuisines, allowing you to experience each dish as if you were on a culinary road trip. Each dish focuses on ingredients and techniques from a specific prefecture, served alongside an explanation—a Yu hallmark.
Our journey began in Kyoto with a course featuring a personal “Zen Garden” tray complete with sand and a mini rake for you to play with before the dishes arrive. It was our favorite course because, rather than wait, you’re given something interactive. Suddenly, servers start placing each dish in the open spaces on your tray. Tiny dishes and shells filled with delicacies from the sea—such as otoro and ikura, grilled tachiuo, creamy ankimo—and seasonal pickles create a landscape to explore.
It’s a quiet and delightful start. An explanation accompanies each course, detailing the origin of the ingredients, their importance to that part of Japan, and how they’ve been prepared. Hokkaido follows with a cold seafood trio of kuruma ebi (shrimp), nama uni, and scallop, paired with mozuku seaweed. Tokyo’s influence is evident in a classic nigiri trio of tuna: chutoro, akami zuke, and otoro; each piece is presented with meticulous balance and precision.
The grilled saba from Oita, served with maitake mushrooms, sweet onion, and lime, was one of the most memorable dishes of the night. It was simultaneously smoky, earthy, and bright, and the bites of sauced saba and onions, soaked to lessen their spiciness, were a change from having it as nigiri. Another crowd-pleaser, this time from Nagasaki and Niigata, was a gorgeous bowl of thin capellini noodles dressed in kegani crab miso and topped with Kaluga caviar.
A delicate clam broth made from two types of miso from Fukuoka reset the palate before the final savory stretch: a perfect handroll filled with negitoro (chopped fatty tuna and scallions) and rice studded with uni. The smokiness of the sukiyaki course featuring Wagyu strip, ikura (cured fish eggs), and shimeji mushrooms was deeply comforting without being heavy. Dessert was not listed but arrived quietly. The custard with a gelee topping was a soft, fruit-forward finish to an intentionally crafted meal.
Service at Ryokou is conversational and inviting. Each dish is introduced with context—where it comes from and why it matters. It’s not just performance; it’s education. Unlike some omakase restaurants that expect guests to sit silently, Ryokou encourages curiosity and conversation. Questions are welcome, and the staff is attentive without hovering. Gutting works quietly behind the counter and only occasionally narrates his own experience. However, his food speaks for itself, and the beverage director leads the evening.
The pacing between dishes was generally smooth, although a few pauses between courses lasted longer than necessary for this diner, who gets antsy after an hour sitting on a stool. Still, the evening never lost momentum, and the meal felt like a thoughtfully mapped journey. And it should, because it is one of the most expensive nights out in Atlanta. My tab easily hit $600 after our meal for two, including two glasses of sake, two beers, and the tip, which is automatically added. This is not an everyday occurrence, although I overheard one diner remark that they’d already visited multiple times.
As Atlanta’s upscale Japanese dining scene grows more polished and expensive, Ryokou offers something that is becoming increasingly hard to find: a point of view. It doesn’t try to outdo its peers, and it is not about chef worship. It’s more like hanging out with a friend who is a total nerd about Japanese food and wants to tell you about it while feeding you. That passion, combined with its respect for tradition and precision, is what makes the biggest impression. There are excellent omakase restaurants and sushi experiences for less. And Yu, now a bona fide restaurateur, even has a new “entry-level omakase experience” called Neko (meaning “cat”) in Omakase Table’s former space in West Midtown for $150.
This article appears in our September 2025 issue.
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