Shoes off, sushi on: Terasu redefines omakase in Israel - restaurant review

On a street in Jaffa, behind an unassuming door, chef Daniel Schiff is serving one of the city’s most intimate and in-demand dining experiences: Terasu, a modern sushi omakase that’s both elevated and personal.

Schiff, 32, is the kind of chef whose path doesn’t follow the traditional culinary-school-to-fine-dining pipeline. In fact, much of his training was self-taught. “When I started, there weren’t many places to really learn traditional sushi in Israel,” he explains. “So I taught myself the basics.”

He honed in on that curiosity by over the years occasionally working alongside private chefs. But his biggest leap came recently: a six-month internship in Tokyo under renowned chef Hiroyuki Sato, who runs a traditional sushi omakase counter in Ginza. It left a lasting impression, not only in technique but in work ethic. “The chef goes to the market every day at 6 or 7 a.m. and finishes at 1 a.m. Daily. With one day off.”

It’s that level of dedication that Schiff brought back with him to Tel Aviv.

Dinner at Terasu is a 22-course progression of small bites, beginning with around seven appetizers before moving into sushi. The fish is succulent, while the rice strikes a subtle balance between sweet and savory. Throughout the evening, diners enjoy fish including hamachi and a variety of bluefin tuna cuts, from akami (the lean red meat from the upper back of the tuna), to chutoro (a medium-fatty cut from the side and underbelly), and otoro (the fattiest belly portion). The menu also features bites topped with ikura (salmon roe) and one of the evening’s highlights: sweet red shrimp nigiri.

This is not an experience for vegetarians or those who avoid fish entirely. And if you don’t eat shellfish, don’t fret: the team will ensure your meal remains a fish-only journey. The structure of the meal stays consistent, with the fish changing depending on season and daily availability. Desserts rotate occasionally. I’m still dreaming about the chocolate mousse with miso.

The price is 590 NIS per person (excluding drinks and service). Schiff’s sake program ranges from small pours at NIS 50–75 to bottles priced between NIS 300–600. Wine is also available, with bottles ranging from NIS 190–290. Classic cocktails are offered as well, with three options priced from NIS 55–70.

Terasu typically operates Tuesday through Thursday, with occasional special Friday services. The dining room seats 12 guests per seating, with two services each night at 6 p.m. and 9 p.m., lasting about two to two-and-a-half hours. Unsurprisingly, the restaurant is booked out months in advance.

When you enter Terasu, which I would consider locally a semi-fine dining experience, it doesn’t feel strict or stuffy. It’s sophisticated but comfortable, perhaps partly due to the restaurant’s modest beginnings in Schiff’s own home.

About three years ago, he started hosting couples and small groups on the balcony of his apartment on Rothschild Boulevard. The name Terasu is a nod to those beginnings: “terrace” in Japanese. Since then, Terasu has grown into a fully realized omakase experience, one that continues to evolve with every trip Schiff takes to Japan. Much of what guests see and touch throughout the meal, from the handcrafted tableware to the uniquely beautiful sake glasses, has been imported directly from Japan. These small aesthetic details are intentional, adding another layer to the experience.

“I picked everything out myself while I was there,” Schiff says. “Handmade Japanese pottery and porcelain is a big part of the experience at the table.”

“The demand is growing,” he says. “More and more people are traveling to Japan, and when they come back, they crave that connection to Japanese culture.” He sees the rise of omakase not as competition, but as a sign of a maturing dining scene.

“People focus on the fish, but sushi is rice,” Schiff says. “Eighty percent of the importance is the rice.” It’s a philosophy rooted in tradition, and one that stands in contrast to the elaborate sushi rolls that dominate much of the local market. “I’m not against it,” he says, referencing popular additions like sweet potato, avocado, or spicy mayo. “But it’s not traditional Japanese sushi that we focus on at Terasu.”

In a city that never slows down, Terasu offers something increasingly rare: a quiet, deliberate meal where diners settle close to the floor and surrender to the rhythm of the chef’s choosing. It’s a new chapter for omakase in Israel, and demand shows no sign of slowing.