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Most omakase restaurants are difficult to get into. But you have to have the strength of a Mandalorian, wisdom of Yoda and faster-than-a-speeding-bullet swiftness of Superman to get in to Yoshii’s. Not to mention a lazy $350 per person.

Seats are released at noon on the first day of each month for the following month. Given the range of my superpowers, it has taken 2½ years for me to get here.

Crown’s executive Japanese chef, Yoshii Ryuchi, and head sushi chef, Hyota Sugihara, welcome their 10 guests as they prepare the evening’s 17-course dinner, made up of five entrees and 12 nigiri.

Yoshii-san, who ran the acclaimed Yoshii in Pyrmont, then The Rocks for 14 years, works quietly and confidently, willing his guests to observe, experience and interact. The first dish is a statement of intent; a whole fresh yuzu (Japanese citrus), grown by Mountain Yuzu in Victoria’s Ovens Valley. Hidden inside is cherrywood-smoked tataki toro (tuna), dressed in miso vinegar; fresh and citrusy.

Then comes a beautiful ceramic vessel tied with a red silken tasselled cord. Opened, it’s a box of sashimi treasures that we have seen being made in front of us, from cuttlefish to kingfish to a rosette of Tasmanian salmon. A tiny, deep-fried river crab is more crunch than flavour – I notice one guest slips hers into her bag instead of eating it.

An intricate four-colour maki roll is a Rubik’s cube of textures, and fresh wasabi, from Tasmania’s Shima Wasabi farm, makes everything more fun.

There is a little money-purse of crepe filled with lobster, in a gentle dashi broth. A wondrous tempura roll of soybean curd filled with snow crab and topped with N25 caviar. A super-rich, mouth-filling concoction of wagyu kushiyaki with truffle red miso sauce, tiled with Manjimup truffle.

Omakase is the perfect opportunity to explore the world of sake, and a glass cooler of Chokyu Junmai Ginjo (180ml, $40), delivers clarity and smoothness without sweetness. A welcome surprise: the wine list has a number of bottles under $100, such as the 2020 Kooyong Clonale Chardonnay ($18/$85).

After a 10-minute break to stretch legs, it’s time for the business end of dinner: 12 courses of nigiri. The performance ramps up, the knifemanship ever more precise, the warmed, vinegared rice tamped and shaped by hand with speed and grace. We hear the kitchen uses no gas or electricity, and even the rice is cooked in a claypot over charcoal.

Each nigiri is so distinct, there is little sense of repetition. Imperador is topped with Okinawa sea salt. Chutoro from New Zealand is rich and is surprisingly refreshing, followed by otoro bluefin tuna from Chiba, as fatty as wagyu. Squid is cut and carved matsukasa-style, transforming into a snow-white pine cone, its flesh permed into curlicues.

On two occasions, citrus juice is squeezed over the fish at the last second, and on two occasions, I think it would have been better without. But that’s omakase for you. The chefs are alive to the differences in their ingredients from day to day, and you are in their hands.

Yoshii’s “Big Mac” is over-the-top with scampi and diced tuna belly, roofed with sea urchin and deep blue scampi caviar. Unagi (sea eel) is daubed with Yoshii-san’s 31-year-old master sauce. We’re in the home straight, with sweet, mousse-like tamago omelette. Then a dramatically black charcoal ice-cream with a charcoal tuile, ho hum. Finally, the charm of a monaka (crisp wafer shell) filled with new-season chestnuts done Mont Blanc style, as mousse, and as marron glace.

I can see why people get hooked on omakase. It’s a rare privilege to be so close to the creation of your meal, and a timely reminder, in this casual era, that dining can reach ceremonial heights. Yoshii’s is hellishly expensive, but it’s also three-hour performance theatre; dinner and a show. Not even Taylor Swift gives you sushi as well.