Yuki in Burnside | SA Weekend restaurant review

Food reviewer Simon Wilkinson finds a Japanese chef who is breaking the mould at a Burnside restaurant that’s well worth a visit.

Mandarin pudding and sorbet, hazelnuts, caramel at Yuki in Burnside.

The bloke who plonks down on the stool beside us is on a mission. A Sydneysider, he has flown in specially for a weekend of eating. He’s not mucking about, either. Over the next couple of days, he tells me, the itinerary includes Restaurant Botanic, Hentley Farm, Shobosho and a couple of other heavy-hitters.

But it’s this first stop that intrigues me. How has he ended up here, in the outer eastern ’burbs, at the far end of Portrush Rd, in a restaurant whose next-door neighbours are a “wellness centre” and a pool?

Over the next couple of hours, the answer is delivered in a captivating succession of dishes that draw upon reservoirs of tradition and technique, combined with some of the finest ingredients that money can buy.

Toothfish, sweet soy sauce, ginger, broccolini at Yuki in Burnside.

Dining room at Yuki in Burnside.

Yuki’s Platinum Omakase takes shape like an exquisite piece of origami. Such precision, such beauty. Or perhaps it is better compared to a dance, given it is based on a sequence of fundamental steps that must be followed before the chef becomes creative. Either way, nowhere else in Adelaide is cooking Japanese like this.

A little bit of background … four years ago, in the little town of Aldgate, Mike Oh opened a family-friendly restaurant specialising in sushi and tempura that he christened Yuki in the Hills. The name, perhaps, hinted at plans for more than one Yuki, and Oh’s dream of showing diners a more sophisticated style of Japanese food. To achieve this, he moved into the Burnside site towards the end of last year and recruited a pair of chefs from the acclaimed Ishizuka in Melbourne.

Yohei tells us he has spent 18 years learning the intricacies of this food as he wields his knife, dissecting the seafood he has sourced from wherever he thinks the quality is best.

Sashimi plate at Yuki in Burnside.

The omakase menu unfolds over eight stages. Braised turnip is trimmed into a hexagonal doughnut, the hole filled by a ginkgo nut, shimeji mushroom and peeled prawn, a light bonito broth lapping at the edges. Flavours build in the Zensai, a tasting plate of sorts, including an intriguing mix of fig, soft tofu, sesame and chrysanthemum, braised octopus tentacle and a single, perfect piece of unagi (eel) sushi.

Next comes sashimi, the slivers of raw king george whiting – translucent, firm, sparkling –even outshining two superb blocks of soy-marinated bluefin tuna. Once again, each piece is eaten slowly and savoured, the only regret being that it is finished too soon.

A more substantial piece of grilled Patagonian toothfish, hauled from the depths somewhere near Antarctica, cleaves into luscious, glossy lobes to wipe through a masterful savoury/sweet soy concoction.

The only red meat is elite Japanese wagyu, meaning the proportions of marbled fat and flesh are similar, and the few mouthfuls provided are more than sufficient. With a single carrot and slice of king mushroom to the side, it’s like a minimalist roast dinner.

If forced to pick a favourite, however, it would be the savoury finale: a small atoll of rice draped with sheets of raw, sesame-cured snapper that is partially submerged in dashi stock. Try the fish as it is, then swipe it through the hot liquid to partially cook, then combine with a little of the rice. Oh goodness.

There’s more. A mandarin and cream cheese souffle/pudding somehow baked in the hollowed-out fruit skin comes with sorbet, hazelnuts and a caramel sauce. And, finally, a toffee-coated strawberry that is filled with soy custard cream.

The Yuki experience may not be everyone’s cup of sencha. The restaurant is quiet, the service demure, to the point that most people seem compelled to whisper. And the bigger-is-better, steak and chips brigade might end up less than satisfied. But, like my mate from Sydney, I reckon Yuki is worth travelling for – even if it’s only to the other side of town.