Wakuriya

A friend who knows San Mateo better than I do put Wakuriya at the top of a list of three. He was right, as he often is.

The room is exactly what you want it to be: tiny room, one nightly seating. We were seated near the back, given menus we hardly needed, and brought a small bowl of olives without being asked.

We started with country pâté with cornichons, which set the tone — generous, unfussy, and confident enough not to crowd what was coming. With it we ordered a Chianti Classico Riserva I wrote down in my notebook, and were glad of both.

Then the main event: a5 wagyu sukiyaki course, the dish that puts Wakuriya on every short list. There was a thumb of butter melting into the cross-hatch, and a single sprig of thyme on top, and not one thing more. The signature touch — kaiseki precision around a perfect slice of beef — is not a gimmick; it is the reason to come.

For sides we asked for asparagus with hollandaise and fried okra and a dab of remoulade. Both arrived hot, both arrived early, both were exactly large enough to overdo it. We overdid it.

Dessert was crème brûlée with a proper glass crust, mostly because the waiter raised an eyebrow when we hesitated. He was right to.

I paid the bill, walked out into the San Mateo evening, and put the address back into the notebook with a star next to it.