FLORIDA
Inside Oku: Fort Lauderdale’s Secret Sushi Counter at Takato
★★★★★
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By Michael Lessne | Aug. 24, 2025
Fort Lauderdale’s dining scene just got a quiet but serious upgrade. Inside Takato, an oceanfront restaurant already a favorite for its Japanese-Korean fusion, executive chef Taek “Taka” Lee—formerly of Zuma, Makoto, and Monkitail—just relaunched his omakase counter, and it could hold its own in New York, Miami, or Tokyo. It’s not an everyday splurge—but it’s the kind of meal that reminds you food can reach the level of art.
“Oku” means secret, and that’s exactly how this counter feels. Only a handful of diners watch Lee slice pristine fish with monk-like precision, the setting intimate and quietly elegant. And the special entrance to the room gives the whole affair the air of exclusivity.
The evening opened with a cocktail of Milagros reposado tequila, amaretto, orgeat, and lemon—crisp, semi-sweet, and just syrupy enough to set the stage.
The zensai, or small bites, set the tone: gold-leaf caviar egg custard with crab (a touch less custard would have made it perfect), delicate salad with mandarin-kumquat cooked in yuzu, and an oyster from British Columbia so sweet it barely needed lemon. A flower smashed by hand and pressed into the hamachi made for an elegant moment—equal parts aromatic and visual.
Between courses, a yamamomo, or mountain peach, arrived as a palate cleanser, preparing us for a focused run of tuna and uni. Both were flown in from Japan, and both were striking. A cold corn soup that tasted uncannily like Corn Pops in milk—yes, really—gave the meal a playful pause.
The sushi itself was clean, confident, and exacting. Fish sliced perfectly before our eyes, ginger pickled and cut into fine strips in-house, each bite calibrated to let the ingredient carry the flavor. Where many chefs lean on sauce, Lee lets the rice and seafood shine.
The tuna courses dissolved on the tongue. A whitefish hand roll with uni, warm from the torch and cool from the sea, delivered a startling contrast in temperature and taste.
Not everything was raw: a scallop tempura that stayed improbably crisp, shortrib glazed with house-made barbecue sauce, and desserts that surprised in turn—Japanese crown melon (the sweetest imaginable), sweet potato with butter and caviar (luxury colliding with comfort), and then a playful bento box that included a green matcha latte.
This was more than dinner. It was a sushi lesson wrapped in generous portions, careful pacing, and an obsessive eye for detail. Fort Lauderdale needs more dining rooms like this—ambitious, elevated, but still warm and welcoming.
Chef Lee has built something rare: a world-class omakase in a city just starting to flex its fine-dining potential.
