Where Are America’s Female Sushi Chefs?

“When someone comes in and sees a female sushi chef, I feel like their expectations are low, like, ‘Oh boy, what’s this going to be like?’” explains Morgan Adamson, the 30-year-old chef behind Hōseki, a lunchtime omakase restaurant in New York City. Inspired by Japan’s subterranean departo-style dining, the six-seat counter is located on the basement floor of the Saks Fifth Avenue in the Diamond District.

For Adamson, a blond-haired Michigan native, apprehension is par for the course. At the previous restaurant she worked at, Lower Manhattan’s Kissaki, guests would take one look at her, then request to be seated in front of a different — and preferably, male — chef.

During her apprenticeship, Adamson struggled to connect with the all-male, mostly Asian back-of-house staff, in a kitchen where knowledge was a scarce, precious commodity that needed to be “earned.” “‘Do you deserve to be here?’ ‘Who did you train under? For how long?’ These are the types of questions I would get often,” recounts Adamson, matter-of-factly and without a trace of resentment.  

But why? Was it her age, her gender, or non-Japanese background that startled others? “There are so many factors that made me different from everyone else on the line, so it’s hard to tell. I couldn’t change any of the things they didn’t like about me,” she reflects. “They thought that someone [like me] would be disrespectful or naive,” she says. So, she educated herself. “Rather than thinking they just hate women or something, I told myself, ‘I’m not from this culture and I need to learn more about it.”  

The female sushi chef in America, who helms, or even owns her own restaurant, is a rarity, a figure who’s been reduced to somewhat of a myth. The west coast sushi mecca Los Angeles is home to legendary omakase restaurants including Nobu, the infamous celebrity haunt once name-checked by Future; Nozawa Bar, Sugarfish’s upscale older brother; and Michelin-starred newcomers like Morihiro and Sushi Kaneyoshi. 

Meanwhile, in a serene, all-white space on Pico Boulevard, Mori Nozomi offers a new type of experience. Open since March 2024, Japanese-born chef Nozomi Mori’s namesake restaurant conveys a certain level of subtle beauty and elegance, lifting its aesthetics from chado, or the art of the Japanese tea ceremony, of which Mori is formally trained in. “The principles of the tea ceremony — harmony (和), respect (敬), purity (清), and tranquility (寂) — deeply inform how we create the dining experience,” shares Mori, who conducted the interview through an interpreter, Megumi Yagihashi. “Like an orchestra conductor, I compose the omakase courses carefully, paying close attention to rhythm and flow.”  

At her side is Mori Nozomi’s all-female staff, led by the restaurant’s sous chef, Yuko Ikeda, who comes from Eleven Madison Park’s pastry team. Was this planned? No, reports Mori, who hired qualified candidates, regardless of gender. Yet, she admits, “I’ve noticed a growing support among women in California. I frequently serve female customers who specifically mention wanting to support women in the industry. Some nights, [the entire restaurant] is all women.”  

In 2011, during an interview with the Wall Street Journal, Yoshikazu Ono (the son of Jiro Ono, the “most famous sushi chef in Tokyo” and subject of the Netflix documentary, Jiro Dreams of Sushi) weighed in on why, exactly, there were so few female sushi chefs in Japan. “Because women menstruate,” he said. “To be a professional means to have a steady taste in your food, but because of the menstrual cycle women have an imbalance in their taste, and that’s why women can’t be sushi chefs.”

Ono must have missed the number of studies that found “no association detected” between the menstrual cycle and taste perception. He also seems to have missed research that suggests weight and age are the two most significant contributors when it comes to a general decrease in taste sensitivity and taste function, both of which decline at 60, then sharply again at age 70. A shame, since, at the time of the interview, Ono’s then-86-year-old father was still running the restaurant. 

Oh, and the myths don’t stop there. Other common “reasons” men point to, as to why women can’t become sushi chefs, include: women are unable to handle the demands of sushi-making. Female hands are too small to shape nigiri. Women’s hands are too warm and ruin the rice.  

These have all been debunked.  

“You would think that in 2024, we would see more female sushi chefs. But it’s not that common,” remarks Kate Koo, a sushi chef with over 24 years of experience and the owner of Zilla Sake, an omakase restaurant in Oregon. But even in a bastion of tolerance like Portland, Koo has faced gender discrimination. “A friend of mine told me that the head sushi chef came up to him and said, ‘I cannot believe I hired a woman,” Koo remembers, reflecting on the start of her career. “I always tell people I have multiple strikes against me: I’m Korean-born, American-raised, and a woman sushi chef.”  

And yet, she’s remained resolute, unfazed by the “roadblocks” set in front of her. In January 2016, Koo purchased Zilla Sake from the restaurant’s original owners. “My advice to young women who are interested in sushi is: be disciplined. You will face challenges. That’s okay,” she urges. “Show the world you are good enough to do this, because no one should tell you otherwise.”