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Chef Yosuke Suga is no stranger to Michelin stars, having worked to earn and keep them for more than a decade as a protégé of the late, great, Joel Robuchon, once the world’s most Michelin-starred chef. But when it was time to start his own restaurant, Sugalabo, in 2015, he turned his back on the critics.
“I’ve seen a lot of the behind-the-scenes workings of Michelin,” Suga said. “Because of that, both in a good and a bad way, I gradually lost interest … More than that, I developed a strong desire not to be evaluated by others; to not work in a way that seeks validation from a guidebook.”
“We serve for the customers, but don’t make dishes for critics,” he added.
Good luck getting a table, however. Ten years after opening, Sugalabo is inaccessible to nearly everyone.
The restaurant’s table policy is a watered-down take on “Ichigensan okotowari,” or “no first-time customers without introduction,” an old practice of some of Japan’s most lauded – and by their nature, secretive – establishments. These restaurants are patronized almost entirely by regulars, who may be permitted to bring a guest, but there’s no guarantee the guest will be allowed to return.
At Sugalabo, diners must be invited or recommended by existing patrons. There is no online booking system, no set opening times, only a private phone number known to the chosen few, who return time and again to the 20-cover bar and dining table.
Ten years in, the guestlist may have grown, but the restaurant is no less exclusive. “It’s not that we’re trying to be snobby,” Suga insisted. Instead, it comes down to guest experience.
“We’re very intentional about welcoming people who understand what we do and whose preferences we’re familiar with,” he explained. A guest from Taiwan or California may be used to different levels of seasoning, for example. “If we allow completely random guests, we can’t respond to each person’s expectations in the same way.”
Beyond their palate, Sugalabo also wants to know what diners will bring to the table. “We try as much as possible to understand their background – whether they’re a doctor, a lawyer, someone in finance or a journalist – because that can influence the kind of conversation I have with them,” Suga said.
The goal is to build a two-way relationship with guests. “In the restaurant business, it’s over if no one comes back to eat. If you (can) build a trustful relationship, it can be sustainable.”
Sugalabo’s exclusive door policy and omakase (chef’s choice) menu is a delightful power inversion of Western dining culture, where hospitality works in deference to the customer.
Ceding control to the chef allows Suga free reign to showcase the best produce the country has to offer, while bringing himself to the plate.
“My background is fundamentally rooted in French cuisine,” he said. His grandfather was head chef on passenger ships crossing the Pacific between Kobe, in Kansai prefecture, and California, before he opened a restaurant in Nagoya. Suga’s father later inherited the restaurant and dedicated the menu to French cuisine (Suga’s brother runs the restaurant today). “I decided to study French cuisine, that’s what led me to France, where I trained under Robuchon.”
Sugalabo doesn’t shy away from staples of French haute cuisine – lobster, foie gras, wine, and so on – but the chef knew they could not be the restaurant’s whole identity.
“While I’m deeply grateful for all that France has given me, the fact is that I now live in Japan. So, my focus is on incorporating local Japanese products and using French influences as a complement.”
One way he embraces his country is through a hyper-seasonal menu. “Japan is so rich in ingredients that we work within what you could call ‘micro-seasons,’” he explained.
Suga uses peaches as an example: each variety will only be at peak ripeness for a week, so across the six to eight weeks peaches are on the menu, Sugalabo will use six to eight varieties. “That ability to enjoy something only available for a limited time, in its best form – that’s what true luxury is,” the chef believes.
Every month, the restaurant closes for three days for staff to travel around the country, meeting and networking with suppliers. “I believe that when producers know who is going to use their product, they’ll send us the best they have,” said Suga. “There’s a kind of love in that.”
Even Sugalabo’s signature dish, cured ham with curry rice – a spin on a Japanese tradition of rice served at the end of a meal – embodies Suga’s ethos: the grains are grown in its own rice field.
The chef’s philosophy has won him admirers, including luxury brands. In 2020 he opened Sugalabo V in Osaka, the first restaurant inside a Luis Vuitton store (it also operates an invitation or by-introduction booking policy), and Suga has opened a more informal, walk-in only concept Le Café V at Luis Vuitton branches in Osaka and Tokyo.
The cafes serve dishes including cold corn potage and a peach coup dessert – similar to those at his original restaurant. For even the well-heeled, this may be as close as they get to the full Sugalabo experience.
Sugalabo, and Japan more broadly, isn’t alone when it comes to restrictive door policies. Since the 1970s, Rao’s in New York hasn’t accepted reservations, and instead bequeathed “table rights” to select regulars. Also established in the ’70s, London’s Le Beaujolais Club is a members-only restaurant (by invitation only) beneath what claims to be the city’s oldest French wine bar.
Alongside these institutions are a plethora of private restaurants catering to the wealthy and social elite. But the idea of paying tens of thousands of dollars to be permitted into a dining room appears gauche compared to Sugalabo’s process.
Despite its exclusiveness, the cost of dining – for this standard of food – is not excessive, with the menu priced at approximately $500 (wine pairings and service fee cost extra).
Suga insists he’s not being snobby. But guests can’t help but get an ego boost. Before taking a bite, they know they’ve been ushered into an elite of their own.
Dining and Cooking