People are often surprised when I tell them that I still feel nervous before service.
After years behind the sushi counter, after thousands of guests, and after preparing countless meals, they assume confidence replaces uncertainty. The reality is more complicated.
The nervousness never disappears.
What changes is the relationship I have with it.
Each evening, as guests begin arriving, I feel a familiar sense of responsibility. Every person who sits at the counter has chosen to spend part of their day with us. Some are celebrating milestones. Others are visiting for the first time. A few may have waited months for a reservation.
That trust is something I never want to take for granted.
Cooking professionally is often described as a craft, but I believe it is also a form of hospitality. Technique matters. Precision matters. Ingredients matter. Yet none of those things mean much if they are not serving people.
The nervousness comes from caring.
I want the rice to be exactly right. I want the fish to be presented at its ideal moment. I want every guest to leave feeling they experienced something genuine.
Perfection, of course, is impossible.
That realization took me years to accept.
When I was younger, I believed mastery meant eliminating mistakes entirely. Now I understand that mastery is the willingness to pursue excellence while accepting that learning never ends. There is always something to improve. There is always another lesson waiting behind tomorrow's service.
This mindset extends beyond the restaurant.
When developing recipes, I often find myself returning to the same dish repeatedly. Small adjustments are made. Details evolve. Components disappear. New ideas emerge. What looks complete from the outside often continues changing quietly behind the scenes.
The pursuit itself is what keeps cooking exciting.
Perhaps that is why I still feel nervous.
The day I stop feeling responsibility toward the ingredients, the guests, and the craft is the day I should leave the counter.
Until then, I will continue embracing that feeling.
It reminds me that every service matters.
And that every meal, no matter how simple, deserves our full attention.
