The Best Sushi in Canada

A lantern outside, a curtain to slip past, and fourteen seats at a Douglas fir counter where the binchōtan grill is the whole point. Sumibiyaki Arashi is a yakitori omakase counter in Mount Pleasant, and the chef runs heritage birds through every cut imaginable, thigh to heart to chicken knee, over charcoal hot enough to demand constant attention. A Michelin star and the tare on that grill go back decades. Reservations are scarce.

An eight-seat omakase counter in Mile End where the rice alone could start a conversation: pesticide-free, cooked in a cast-iron pot, seasoned to match the fat content of whichever fish comes next. The edomae technique here runs to careful aging and marinating, with fish flown in from Japan several times a week alongside Quebec lobster and Magdalen Islands scallops. The minimalist room doubles as a ceramics gallery. Michelin one-star.

The counter is a single slab of hinoki cypress, two centuries old, polished by hand before every service until it releases a faint citrus scent. That kind of obsessive care sets the tone for this intimate omakase room tucked off Robson Street, where the chef holds a Michelin star and sources his tuna through Japan's most revered merchant, authentication papers displayed quietly at your elbow. The vibe, somehow, is kitchen party.

A black curtain drops at the exact minute of your reservation, which tells you everything about what follows. This omakase counter imports nearly all its fish and produce directly from Japan, but the kitchen goes further with live music, Buddhist chanting, and bamboo leaf carving woven between courses. It holds a Michelin star and reads less like dinner than like a ceremony someone spent years choreographing. Dress accordingly.

A 200-year-old hinoki counter anchors this intimate omakase room on Avenue Road, where Chef Masaki Saito flies his fish exclusively from Japan and keeps the atmosphere warm enough that laughter genuinely competes with reverence. The room itself is a statement, all traditional woodwork and quiet ceremony, and the price is serious. It holds a Michelin star. Come prepared to surrender the evening and let the chef decide everything.

Counter seats at this intimate omakase spot put you close enough to watch each piece of nigiri take shape in real time, which is either meditative or nerve-wracking depending on your personality. Chef Masayoshi Baba runs a jewel-box Edomae sushi room on Fraser Street, letting BC's local catch guide the progression. The room is quiet, the pacing is ceremonial, and the tab reflects all of that. It holds a Michelin star.

The hinoki counter running the length of the room sets the tone before anyone's poured water. This is Edomae omakase, so settle in and let the chef lead, whether that's the shorter introduction menu or the longer, more personal progression. The nigiri moves from delicate silvery kohada up through richer cuts in a deliberate arc. The rice blend is left uncolored, its acidity calibrated to the fish. A Michelin star for those keeping score.

Six seats tucked into the corner of an unrelated restaurant, accessed through a print shop, which tells you everything and nothing about what follows. This is a Michelin-starred omakase counter where the chef trained at a top Tokyo bar, and the room is so spare that the food has nowhere to hide. His wife runs hospitality with the kind of quiet attentiveness that makes a long tasting meal feel effortless rather than ceremonial.

Natural light and blonde wood keep things calm at this small, counter-forward sushi shop on Main, where the focus is squarely on the fish. The chef's approach is classic: beautifully cut sashimi, seasonal ingredients, and just enough acidity to lift the sweetness of top-notch seafood. Easier on the wallet than the city's omakase circuit, and a Michelin Bib Gourmand. One judge called it the first place they'd send an out-of-towner, which tracks.

Eight seats tucked at the back of the main room, twice nightly, all ingredients flown in from Japan. Sushi Yūgen is a kaiseki-influenced omakase counter where the chef builds around 18 courses and occasionally lands something like okoze, the devil scorpionfish, which is either thrilling or alarming depending on your disposition. The wine list leans toward white Burgundy, and the Japanese whisky selection includes bottles that don't surface anywhere else in the country.

A sushi and pan-Asian restaurant that comfortably wanders into Italian and French territory without apologizing for it, Peacock landed on Canada's 100 Best list in 2026. The chef layers flavors across cuisines with a clean, unhurried hand, moving from sushi classics to charcoal-grilled fish with black-bean marinara without it feeling like a concept pitch. The room on Grant Avenue draws a crowd that follows cooking, not categories.

Six seats wrap an omakase bar where 17 to 20 courses lean on sustainably sourced, mostly Canadian fish and produce some of it grown on the chef's own farm. Darren MacLean runs Japanese technique through an unmistakably Canadian larder, and the daikon "steak" alone makes a case for taking vegetables seriously. The sake list is long and thoughtful, the cocktails herbaceous. Canada's 100 Best puts it at number 75 in the country.

Three seats. Two chefs. That's the whole room at this omakase sushi bar on Denman, and the math is deliberate. No gold leaf, no theatrical dry-ice fog, just precise nigiri and a quiet confidence that comes from cooking for fewer people than most restaurants seat at the bar. The Michelin Guide has it listed, and the intimacy earns every bit of the attention that comes with that. Show up ready to eat slowly and say very little.

The two-sided fireplace in the center of the room does a lot of heavy lifting at this sleek hotel lounge inside the Fairmont Pacific Rim. Pull up a seat at the marble bar or grab one near the stage for nightly live music, and order from a sushi-focused menu that leans on local salmon and steelhead. The Michelin Guide has it listed, and the crowd dressed just well enough to be here tends to linger.

Six seats at the bar and two small tables make the math on reservations here pretty unforgiving. Sushi Jin is a quiet omakase counter that a lot of Vancouver hasn't found yet, which is either a shame or a favor depending on how you feel about crowds. The chef works in a traditional Japanese register with a personal edge, and the nigiri runs from delicate hirame to fatty otoro topped with Hokkaido uni. The Michelin Guide has it listed.

Octopus figurines colonize every surface of this cozy, been-around-forever sushi shop on Cornwall, which either charms you immediately or makes you wonder if you've wandered into a marine biology gift store. Luckily the fish is the real draw: supremely fresh nigiri that rotates with the seasons, maki that wanders happily off-script, and specials worth paying attention to. Reservations are famously hard to come by, which tells you something about the neighborhood's loyalty.

A counter with room for barely twenty, where the chef works through a dozen-plus nigiri at a pace that suggests he has never once second-guessed himself. This is omakase sushi on Robson Street, priced closer to a nice dinner out than a flight across the Pacific. The fish is fresh, the pours run from sake to Japanese whisky, and the whole thing moves with a quiet confidence that makes the room feel smaller and more deliberate than it actually is.

A curtain rises to dramatic music before the meal even begins, which tells you everything about the register of this omakase counter. Twenty-plus courses move from chawanmushi through nigiri made with fish you may not recognize alongside cuts you absolutely will, including otoro and Hokkaido uni. The pacing is relentless in a good way, and the theatrics are sincere rather than silly, which is a harder trick than it sounds.

Drums play overhead while chefs break down whole fish at the counter, so the omakase here functions more like dinner theater than a quiet procession of nigiri. This is a high-energy sushi counter with outposts in Vancouver and Montreal, and the room is in constant motion, everyone grilling, slicing, or frying something at once. The price tag matches the spectacle, so come ready for that conversation.

A strip mall omakase counter tucked between a Markham auto repair shop and wherever your expectations were parked. Inside, wood slats and careful lighting give the room a calming, considered feel. Fish arrives from Japan several times a week, the rice is warm and finely vinegared, and the nori is quietly serious. The chef's counter is where you want to sit, and the approach stays traditional, a clean swipe of soy doing most of the talking.

A grab-and-go sushi and sashimi shop where the fish is sliced to order straight from the chiller, Sashimiya is the solo project of Taka Omi, who spent years behind the counter at the Fairmont Pacific Rim's RawBar. There are no seats, which the waterfront a short walk away quietly solves. Party trays, bentos, and platters are the move, and the shop stocks Japanese grocery finds alongside the fish for good measure.