Sheikh Zayed’s Odoriko ‘Dances’ On The Tongue - A SceneEats Review

Real Japanese food is not for hobbyists. It’s for people who find thrill in high-risk dining - where a single reckless dab of wasabi can launch your soul clean out of your body, detour through your nasal cavities, and wipe critical data, like your Netflix password or the names of your children.

Of course, some city dwellers have only encountered its gentler, fusion-diluted cousins - the ones where your “sushi” arrives topped with Cheetos and far too many dollops of full fat mayo. Others, like myself, find themselves in a recurring state of re-acquaintance, forever hunting for that elusive standard the purists among us solemnly call ‘authenticity’ - usually with the same desperate intensity as someone trying to locate a real charger at a dinner party full of fake USB-C cables.

Odoriko, Sheikh Zayed’s new Japanese outpost by Better Folks Hospitality is a secret society dedicated to watching diners pretend they have self-restraint. The menu politely advises you to ‘only order what you can finish,’ which is adorable, because everyone just panic-orders two of everything ‘to share,’ then guards the gyoza like it’s classified government property.

Upon arrival - specifically at the little pocket of Arkan Plaza where Odoriko lurks like a well-designed secret - you’ll do what everyone does: briefly forget you’re in a mall and assume you’ve wandered into an elaborately constructed cedar forest with better lighting.

You’ll be greeted by actual human smiles, a shocking development in the digital age where most customer service interactions feel like negotiating with a chatbot. And then comes the question that separates the seasoned from the doomed:

"Do you have a reservation?"

The menu is extensive. Salmon, tuna, calamari, gyoza, various cuts of luxury-grade beef, BAO buns, noodles, and the occasional rogue boba - all conspiring to test just how much protein a human body can legally absorb before slipping into a pleasant, soy-scented coma.

Vegetarians, fear not: there’s still plenty for you to chew on, although you’ll face some eternal moral dilemmas - load up on enough sashimi and tataki to legally qualify as a coastal predator, or remember that some of the finest meals in life are, begrudgingly, heavy on vegetables.

The Torched Truffle Salmon and the Salmon Hosomaki function as palate cleansers - or, at the very least, as polite opportunities to remember how chopsticks actually work.

The Grilled Octopus Wasabi, meanwhile, shows real ambition: it arrives on a bed of potato foam, wearing lemon-coriander dressing, burnt leek aioli, and a crispy seaweed hat. It’s a refreshing change from the usual octopus-in-a-bowl situation, where the tentacles are tossed onto some wilted greens and optimistically called a salad.

For the commitment-phobes, the Reef and Beef Gyozas let you dip your toes into the surf-and-turf lifestyle without having to explain yourself to a waiter. And if you're smart, you’ll also order the Truffle BAO Burger - a fluffy little unit of joy stuffed with enough greens to make you feel virtuous right up until the moment you inhale it in three bites.

‘Leave room for dessert’ is something you tell yourself at family dinners where the highlight is a fruit salad and someone mispronouncing ‘quinoa.’

At Odoriko, merely ‘leaving room’ will not suffice. You’ll need to vacate a junior suite overlooking the Nile, clear customs, and possibly petition for additional storage rights. Fluffy cheesecakes and molten matcha cakes leave you no choice but to surrender and pray your trousers possess a forgiving waistband.