In Japanese, the sea is one syllable: umi 海. In the language of an island people, that syllable outgrows its dictionary meaning. The sea is Japan’s pantry, its road and its poetry; in the eighth-century anthology Man’yōshū there are wave sounds and shore people gathering seaweed, and at today’s Toyosu auction the same sea’s bounty changes hands. Thirteen hundred years have passed; the gaze toward the horizon has not changed.

The Umi Selection Set is the longest letter our menu has written to the sea: forty pieces, drawn from the counter’s entire repertoire. The naked honesty of sashimi, the hand-balance of nigiri, the richness of the rolls, the courage of the hot bites. On this board the sea shows all of its moods; the cool and silken one, and the smoky, warm one too.

The selection is made for long tables; it does not care for haste. The board is set at the center, the chopsticks multiply, and the conversation weaves itself around the plate. The task of our largest boards is not only to fill; it is to gather.

The largest board of a kitchen named after water was always going to belong to the sea. Umi: our thanks to the source.