DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SUSHI CHEF
[ Pan seared salmon. Served with a side of snow pea sprouts tossed in ginger dressing, sake seared shiitake mushrooms, and spicy miso butter sauce ]
Sushi Isn’t Just Slicing Fish (It’s a Whole Lifestyle)
People often think being a sushi chef is just about knowing how to handle a knife or roll a picture-perfect maki. Sure, those skills matter—but that’s like saying a painter just knows how to hold a brush. There’s way more to the story.
My journey didn’t start in culinary school. It started with a psychology degree, a mountain of curiosity, and ten years of hands-on apprenticeship—learning the kind of things no textbook can teach. Like how the weight of a knife should feel, or how a simple bite of fish and rice can make someone close their eyes in happiness.
Sushi is about more than technique. It’s about attention. To detail. To flavor. To texture. To the tiny things that no one sees but everyone tastes.
Every morning starts with a hunt. I’m out scouting the freshest, most flawless ingredients like they’re rare gems. Avocados that are perfectly creamy, not a bruise in sight. Mangos that smell like sunshine. Herbs that still carry the memory of the soil they came from. These things matter. Because when the ingredients are that good, you don’t need to overcomplicate the food—you just need to let it speak.
Then, back in the kitchen, the rhythm starts. Rice seasoning has to be exact—one too many grains of sugar, and suddenly the balance is off. Kombu is steeped just right, adding that subtle whisper of umami. Every cut of fish is inspected like it’s auditioning for a Broadway role: texture, color, structure. No slouches allowed.
Sushi lives in contrast. Creamy meets crisp. Sweet meets salty. Cool fish, warm rice. A slice of jalapeño here, a yuzu zest there. Every plate is an equation of balance—and a little poetry, too.
We prep like mad scientists, we taste like critics, and we plate like artists. But at the end of it all, we’re just trying to make something you’ll love. Something that makes you sit back and go, “Whoa. What is that?” That’s the best kind of compliment.
And look—I’d be lying if I said it was all glamorous. There’s stress. There’s sweat. My fingers permanently smell like vinegar some days. But there’s also so much joy. Especially when I get to serve someone a dish I’ve been tinkering with, watching them take that first bite, and seeing the smile start before they even finish chewing.
Being a chef is about constantly evolving. Learning from cookbooks, from other chefs, from a random late-night bowl of noodles that makes you rethink everything. I never want to stop growing. Never want to stop playing with new flavors, new ideas, new techniques.
Because that’s the heart of what I do. I feed people. I surprise them. I make them happy.
And maybe, if I do it right, I remind them that food isn’t just fuel—it’s an experience.
Your friendly neighborhood Sushi Cowboy,
Ryan @ Sushi Win Jr. 🍣🔥❤️