48 – The Logic Behind “Private”
That night confirmed what my heart already knew.
My choice to run small, private classes was not just a branding decision.
It was a practical conclusion drawn from lived experience:
One chef can only give full attention to a small group.
Attention is what transforms a class into a memory.
And memories are what people actually come to Tokyo for.
In big group classes,
you can hide.
You can let others ask the questions.
You can go home having “done” the experience
without really being seen.
In a private class with six or eight people,
you cannot hide.
You are asked to touch the rice, feel the weight of the fish,
shape the nigiri with your own hands.
You are also seen—
by me,
by the people you came with,
by the version of yourself who maybe never imagined
you would be shaping sushi in Tokyo one day.
My classroom was small.
The chairs were mismatched.
The table was second-hand.
But in that tight space,
I saw very clearly the future of my work:
Not mass tourism.
Not big groups and headsets and raised flags.
But intimate circles,
private conversations,
eight seats at a time—
and a kind of hospitality where every guest is not just “one of many,”
but the only one that matters in that moment.