With unassuming signage and a façade that blends into the up-and-coming Wheeler District neighborhood, AKAI doesn’t prematurely give away any secrets to the wonders that wait inside. Heaving open the massive door (which is truly a sight to behold), however, gives way to an intimate atmosphere that simultaneously buzzes with activity.
I knew as soon as I sat down that I was in for something special. Full of patrons, even on a Sunday night, staff weaved effortlessly through tables with an energy that can only be described as genuine belief in the food they were ferrying.
As is my tradition when trying somewhere new, I ordered what sounded like the prettiest drink they had, and it didn’t disappoint. Lost Plumway ($12) — a mix of blossom sake, lychee liqueur and plum foam — admittedly feels like it belongs on a dessert menu. Floral yet light, it was equal parts refreshingly bright and deviously sweet, a drink that makes you feel like you’re splurging even before dinner begins. I had two.
To kick off dinner, I started with an upscale classic: shishito peppers ($10). Perfectly charred and served in a yuzu miso, the peppers provided exactly the roasted chili profile I was expecting. The problem? This simple yet acceptable dish quickly became overshadowed by the masterpiece that followed.
Brought out by yet another member of the charismatic staff, the runner gave our table a crash course in the best way to eat the chicken karaage ($14) he’d placed in front of us. Squeeze the lemon across the plate, wrap a bundle of field greens around a piece of chicken, dip it in the sauce and don’t forget a little umami salt. Simple enough, right? What could really be so special about a glorified chicken finger? (I’d like to take this time to apologize for the blasphemy I’ve just spewed against this chicken.)
One bite of this juicy slice of heaven brought tears to my eyes, and I wish I was joking. As I savored one of the most succulent pieces of meat I’ve ever had the joy of eating, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense that the person who made this chicken genuinely loves their craft. Crispy, yet light, the chicken melded flawlessly with the lemon’s acid and the umami depth of its accompaniments. I’m sure the field greens were doing something, but I was so caught up in this chicken’s ability to make me believe life is worth living that I barely registered their presence.
However, in the spirit of giving other proteins a chance, I bid adieu to the empty plate and welcomed our next dish, the albacore crispy onion ($20). Something you should know about me is that I’m a ride-or-die fan of a good onion, so this cold app had a decent chance at success before it even got to the table. Soaked in a delightful onion ponzu, the albacore’s buttery flavor was tasty but easily overpowered and outperformed by the crispy onions. If I’m honest, the fine people at AKAI could have brought out a plate of just the crispy onions, sans albacore, and I would have been just as happy.
Perfect potatoes
Since AKAI is a sushi restaurant, it would have been short-sighted to walk away without sampling some of that fare. With a two-piece minimum for nigiri, it was easy to get swept up in the whimsy of ordering a bit of this and that, especially when choices for truly fresh fish in this landlocked state are few and far between. As a shellfish avoider (heartbreakingly allergic), Hamachi ($8/$16) is my go-to nigiri choice, so that made its way to my table alongside Otoro ($16/$32), or bluefin, and a non-fish selection of foie gras ($13).
When I inevitably make my way back to AKAI, I’ll likely order a mini buffet of the sushi alone. A tried-and-true staple, the Hamachi offered the familiar lightness I’ve come to love. The Otoro was perfect with every bite. In fact, in the moment, I wished I had five more pieces. As for the foie gras, you either love it or you hate it. Personally, I’m a big fan of the sultry richness, and this preparation met the brief of decadence to a T. The nigiri acted as a nice bridge between the table’s starters and what was soon to be the star of the show. (Trust me, I didn’t think anything could outshine the chicken either.)
As the American wagyu short rib ($36) arrived, I couldn’t help but admire how beautiful it looked. There’s something about a delicate piece of braised meat nestled in a bed of potato puree that brings a sense of rightness to my bones. Our table was momentarily knifeless, but that didn’t seem to matter. In the time our server retrieved one and came back, we’d already cut through the short rib with nothing but a spoon, experiencing the truly mouthwatering meltiness of its flavor-packed layers. Not to be forgotten, the mashed potatoes, infused with an abundance of butter, were exactly what you envision the perfect potato side dish to be: creamy, cozy and packed with dairy. I once again found myself feeling lucky to be alive, lucky to be experiencing some soul’s heartfelt creation. It might seem dramatic, but you could truly taste the passion in every bite.
I rounded out the night with a simple, yet elegant dessert. A Japanese-style cheesecake ($10) dipped in chocolate sat next to strawberry coulee and some fresh strawberry slices. At first, the interior was so subtly flavored that it seemed like nothing worth writing about at all. But then, on second bite, a chocolate cookie layered at the bottom of the cheesecake appeared front and center. Not too sweet, this crisp cocoa cookie balanced the airiness of the cheese. I’m not too proud to admit I’m still thinking about that cookie even now.
Whether a special occasion or just a Sunday night, I highly recommend carving out time to grab a table at AKAI. You deserve it, and frankly, so do your taste buds.
This article appears in Queen of Oklahoma.