Last week, President Obama and Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe had dinner at Sukiyabashi Jiro, considered by many to be one of the best sushi restaurants in Tokyo, if not the world. It’s certainly the most famous sushi spot on the planet thanks to the 2011 documentary “Jiro Dreams of Sushi.” The three-star Michelin restaurant is located in the basement of an office building near the Ginza station, with a modest wooden counter and only 10 tables in the entire establishment. 89-year-old master chef Jiro Ono serves a tasting menu of roughly 20 courses, for a total of 30,000 Japanese yen (just under $300). But some people question if the experience is actually worth the money. While there’s no question that diners are eating some of the freshest and most perfectly prepared fish available, the meal is often rushed. The Michelin Tokyo Guide warns “don’t be surprised to be finished within 30 minutes.” That’s the equivalent of spending 1,000 Japanese Yen — or $10 — per minute.

Andy Hayler, a food critic at Elite Traveler who has dined at every Michelin three-star restaurant in the world, had a less-than-stellar experience at Sukiyabashi Jiro in 2008. “It was very rushed, and I gather has become even more rushed since,” he told Business Insider. “A well traveled American friend went recently and timed it in and out in 28 minutes, his wallet several hundred dollars lighter.” (For those curious, Obama’s visit lasted for one and half hours, three times longer than the typical meal at Sukiyabashi Jiro.) There are a few reasons for Chef Ono’s fast pace. Connoisseurs believe that the highest quality sushi is served within five seconds of being prepared, and that diners should not let a bite of sushi rest, but consume it immediately. Plus, eating those 20 sushi courses over the span of hours could ruin the customers’ appetites as they become increasingly full, and they would not appreciate the later courses. Chef Ono’s meal lasts less than a half an hour, so there’s not enough time for diners to start to feel overly full (it takes about 20 minutes for our body to recognize that it’s satiated) and they can better enjoy every perfect bite of sushi.

In addition to the fast pace, however, some people claim the service itself can be hit or miss at Sukiyabashi Jiro depending on who you are and who you’re with. Foreigners who don’t speak Japanese, known as gaijin, have a hard time getting a reservation at Sukiybashi Jiro in the first place and an even harder time being served. sushi in dublin citySince Chef Ono doesn’t speak English and his son speaks very little, their explanations and any diner questions or requests are often completely lost in translation.sushi to go packaging Bringing along a friend or guide who speaks fluent Japanese is not only highly recommended by every reviewer, but often necessary. brown sushi rice balls

Some reviewers even describe a hostile relationship between Chef Ono and foreigners, with some going so far as to claim discrimination. Hayler described the poor service in the 2008 review: From the moment we sat down, the old gentleman who runs the place, and the chef who served us, regarded us with barely concealed contempt. jiro dreams of sushi 5 thingsThey spent their time glowering at us throughout. where to buy sticky rice for sushiThe fish came at a very fast pace, and when at one point my wife stopped for a few moments towards the end and explained (via our translator) that she just needed a moment, they just took her sushi away regardless.  sushi for delivery montreal“The customer is always right” is not a concept that has caught on at this place.what sushi rolls are low calorie

Many of his readers agreed with his assessment of the service in the comments section, describing their own experiences with Chef Ono. One man even said he and his brother were almost kicked out during a 2011 visit: As my brother and I entered the restaurant, my brother removed his jacket and placed it on a rack. Before I could reach for my scarf, my brother’s jacket was — literally — shoved back into his chest, and he was being pushed in the back towards me and told, “Sorry, no foreigner.” My wife, as yet unseen, suggested she try herself — being Japanese — and sure enough, she was treated as if a new guest had come in. When she confirmed our reservation and learned our table was ready, she beckoned us in. They were startled to see us re-enter the restaurant with her, although no apology was forthcoming. Despite these negative reviews, not everyone experiences poor service at Sukiyabashi Jiro, and most people still agree that the food itself is superb.

Obama called it the “best sushi I’ve ever eaten,” and Hayler agreed, telling Business Insider that he thought his meal was “objectively good,” but that it still did not compare to other Tokyo establishments such as Sushi Saito, Yoshitake, Mizutani, and Sawada. So if you are comfortable with feeling rushed throughout a $300 meal and potentially poor service, then it’s worthwhile to visit Sukiyabashi Jiro and try Chef Ono’s truly amazing sushi. But Japan is filled with fantastic restaurants. Jiro Ono’s spot isn’t even in the top 30 sushi restaurants in Tokyo by Japanese diners on Tablelog, Japan’s Yelp equivalent. And for those looking for a more affordable and low-key sushi meal in the U.S., New York is now home to Sushi Nakazawa. Owned by Jiro Ono’s former protégée Daisuke Nakazawa, the entire meal lasts for two hours and costs only $150 a head.I have been re-watching the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi for the past couple of months. I've seen it at least 10 times, probably more, while writing drafts for this article.

I've watched it alone, with my wife, with friends, and I don't tire of it; I've recommended it to everyone I know, and now I'm wholeheartedly recommending it to you. I have watched this film in fascination, trying to extract lessons from this master. What have I learned from him? And what questions do these lessons open up for me? This little gem of a documentary by David Gelb takes a look at the work and life of Jiro Ono, a Michelin three-star sushi chef who, at 85 years of age, continues to work on his craft every day at his tiny restaurant in a Tokyo office building basement opposite a subway station entrance. His colleagues, his country, and at least one very knowledgeable food writer recognize him as perhaps the greatest sushi chef alive.What lessons have I learned from him?"Once you decide on your occupation," says Jiro, "you must immerse yourself in your work. You have to fall in love with your work. Never complain about your job. You must dedicate your life to mastering your skill.

That's the secret of success and is the key to being regarded honorably." Jiro himself is enormously happy with his work; he is a blissful craftsman who truly enjoys his work, which keeps him vital in his old age.However, it's crucial to note that he doesn't say "find work that you love," as if suggesting one goes on some romantic quest in search for the perfect job, but rather he tells us to love the work we have chosen.This means to consciously and voluntarily cultivate love, much like we do in a marriage. This is different from a teenage crush whereby one gets struck in the head by a random force and goes temporarily mad, only to wake up to disillusioned weeks or months later. Jiro's path to joyful work requires a lifetime of devotion. This brings to mind a more common conception of work some of us have: We tend to categorize jobs as being either "passion work" or "work just for the money." Then we tell ourselves that passion work is a pipe dream and we must endure a lifetime of mindless toil until the day we retire and begin to enjoy life.

What would happen, I wonder, if we consciously and purposefully loved the jobs we feel condemned to do "just for the money"? Could this perhaps completely revolutionize our relationship with work, increase our quality of life, and diminish our hunger for retirement?Sushi is by definition a minimalist food, and Jiro has taken this simplicity to another level, not only in his sushi-making technique, but also in the composition of his menu. Unlike other restaurants of its kind, Jiro's does not serve appetizers. Rather, they create a daily menu of about 20 pieces of sushi per person. He serves sushi only, and no other dishes. Moreover, his restaurant has only 10 seats. This allows the staff to focus on preparing top-quality sushi and serving each client the best possible way, noticing little details like how much they eat or if they are right- or left-handed.Jiro's eldest son, Yoshikazu, who is a sushi chef in his own right but still works with his father as the heir apparent, says that at the restaurant they try to repeat the same thing every day.

What's left implied is that mastery results from this constant repetition.This focus goes beyond the confines of work: Jiro repeats the same routine every day, down to standing on the same spot to take the train. He dislikes holidays and wants to return to work as soon as possible. It seems to me that Jiro increases his creativity by going deep, rather than wide—start with an automatic daily routine, pursue a narrow focus at work, and within that narrow focus, the combination of talent and hard work open up a universe for creative exploration.This reminds me of that mad genius William Blake, who wrote in "Auguries of Innocence":To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour.With happiness like that, who needs vacations?If we stick for a moment with the "passion work" scenario I mentioned earlier, I notice that some people tend to assume that doing work you love is free of difficulties and that everything will be well in your life if you just switch careers.

Doing work you love may cost you dearly, especially in the initial stages, and everyone choosing such a path should be willing to pay the price of admission. In my case, pursuing studies in the humanities and striking out on my own instead of finding a place in academia meant I have to work longer hours and make less money compared with people working in established organizations and with perhaps fewer years of education.I have made peace with that fact because I am doing work that I love, but the trade-off is evident. Today I aim to increase my income to a more comfortable level by cultivating focus and honing my skills, but it's a steep climb. Still, this was a conscious choice that I do not regret. I know this may seem to contradict a little bit what I said earlier about loving the work you've chosen, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that loving your work can at times be difficult, but if you persevere you will find yourself rewarded for it.In the case of Jiro, the demands of his job kept him away from his family while his children were growing up.

He also had to struggle against poverty; when he got married he had no money in the bank, and years later his kids had to save for months before they could afford a Coca-Cola. Things have changed today, Jiro shares a good relationship with his children, who learned their craft from their father, but it took years of sacrifice and hard work to get there. Jiro himself had to endure being slapped or kicked during his learning years, but he didn't quit. He's had apprentices, however, who only lasted a day in his kitchen.The point of this, to me, is that the kind of bliss Jiro finds in his daily work can't be achieved through quick solutions and four-hour workweeks. It takes hard, intense, concentrated, and often painful work. Dream jobs don't simply work their magic because you find them; they do because you marry them for life and they reward you for your efforts as years go by.I am not suggesting, of course, that citizens of 21st-century Western democracies with different cultural prejudices put up with unfair or unsafe work conditions, but Jiro's tale is a reminder that love and sacrifice can reward us in transcendental ways that cannot be reduced to quick formulas for easy success.