We almost didn’t go out that night. It had been a long week, the kind that makes you want to stay home. But the occasion asked for something more, so we washed up, dressed a little nicer than usual, started reading our own drafts of articles, and made our way to Tanjong Pagar as the sky went soft and violet.
Sushi Yujo sits inside Amara Hotel, at 165 Tanjong Pagar Road, up on the second floor. You step in from the ordinary bustle of the city and the noise drops away almost at once. The room was low and warm, lit the way a room should be for an evening you want to remember. Everyone inside seemed to be speaking a little more slowly.
Come sit with us. We’ll tell you how it went.
Why We Chose This Place
We wanted a dinner that felt like an occasion without needing to try too hard. Not a tasting menu that demanded reverence. Not a rowdy group table either. Something in between. Somewhere we could lean into the counter, watch someone work, and let the evening unfold at its own pace.
A few people had mentioned Sushi Yujo Singapore as a gentler way into omakase. Modern rather than strict. Creative rather than austere. That sounded right for what we wanted, which was less about ceremony and more about sitting together somewhere lovely and being looked after.
First Impressions
The counter seats thirteen, and we took our places along the pale wood, close enough to see the chef’s hands.
If you’ve never done omakase, the word simply means you trust the chef. You don’t order. You sit, and the meal comes to you, course after course, in whatever order and rhythm the kitchen decides. There’s a small surrender in it that feels good after a week of making decisions.
What struck us first was the pacing. Plates arrived without long gaps, sometimes within two or three minutes of the last, so the evening never sagged. But nothing felt rushed either. Someone cleared our plates quietly between courses. Someone refilled a glass before we thought to ask. The whole team moved with a kind of unhurried attention that made the counter feel less like a restaurant and more like a table set just for us.
The Meal, Course by Course
It began with a truffle appetiser, aromatic and gentle, the scent reaching us before the fork did. Strong enough to notice, restrained enough to let the seafood underneath keep its voice. A good opening. It told us what kind of evening this would be.
The carpaccio came next, and it stayed with us longest. Thin slices of fish laid out with care, cool and clean, the seasoning light enough that the freshness led rather than the sauce. One of us, who usually leaves raw fish alone, ate every piece. That felt like a small quiet triumph.
Then the uni. Sweet, creamy, without a trace of the sharp sea-tang that puts people off. It carried none of that low fishy note you brace for. Just a soft richness that dissolved slowly, the kind of thing you eat with your eyes half closed.
The signatures are where Sushi Yujo shows its hand. The Aburi Ootoro arrived lightly seared, topped with negitoro, a whisper of truffle caviar, and a small leaf of gold. The torching softened the fatty tuna into something almost melting, warm at the edges, cool at the center. The Aburi Foie Gras came layered with scallop and sea urchin, a rich and unusual pairing that leaned into indulgence without tipping over.
These are not restrained, traditional bites. They’re bolder than that, built around truffle and torch and luxury. If you come hoping for minimalist, fish-forward sushi in the old Edomae style, this may read as too much. We found ourselves happily in the other camp, though there was one moment, somewhere in the richer stretch of the meal, when we caught ourselves wishing the truffle would step back a little and let the fish speak on its own.
The Small Human Moments
Somewhere in the middle of the meal, the reason we came out that night stopped mattering less and started mattering more.
A small cake appeared. The staff had remembered the occasion, and they marked it without fuss, the way you’d hope a friend might. They offered to take a photo, and we said yes, and now that photo sits somewhere on a phone, blurry and warm, the two of us grinning over an empty counter.
That’s the thing we keep coming back to. The food was beautiful, and we’d talk about the ootoro for days. But it was the noticing that made the night. The sense that someone was paying attention to more than the plates.
What You Should Know
A few practical things, offered plainly. The Sushi Yujo menu runs across several tiers. Lunch is the softer landing, starting from around $68, which makes it one of the more approachable ways to try omakase in the city. Dinner climbs from about $148, up through the signature Yujo menu at $288 and the Shinzoku at $348. Where you land depends on how deep you want to go into the premium ingredients.
Seating is limited, so book ahead, especially for weekends and celebrations. The thirteen-seat counter is where you want to be if you like watching the chef work and don’t mind a little quiet company on either side. Private rooms suit larger groups, birthdays, or a business dinner where you’d rather talk than watch. Let them know in advance if you’re marking something. In our experience, they’ll rise to it.
Dinner ran a little over an hour for us, an easy, paced evening rather than a marathon. If you’re hoping for photos without breaking the mood, a weekday or an earlier seating gives you a calmer room.
So, the Perfect Celebration Dinner?
Not perfect, if perfect means flawless.
There were moments the richness ran ahead of the fish, and if your idea of great sushi is spare and traditional, like some of the article seen from this article, you might leave admiring the craft more than loving the style. That’s an honest thing to say.
But perfect for a celebration? That’s a different question, and the answer felt closer to yes. Because what we remember isn’t the scorecard. It’s the low light, the cake we didn’t expect, the friend beside us eating uni they swore they’d hate. The sense of time slowing down for one warm evening in the middle of an ordinary week.
Some dinners you photograph*. Others you simply carry with you afterward.* This one turned out to be both.
If you have something to mark, and someone to mark it with, pull up a chair here. Order more than you think you need. Let the evening take its time.
We’re still thinking about it.
