The old Miyake is dead.

Before reading any further, that’s the most important thing that you must come to grips with. Gone is the hole in the wall shack with IKEA furniture and run-down tapestries, and gone is the tiny kitchen powered mainly by toaster ovens, creativity, and superlative knife skills.

Yes, I’ll admit that I’ll always have a place in my heart for the era gone by. The old Miyake was special, a place where you always knew the food would be incredible and the service unique (not to mention you could bring in several bottles of wine from home) in the most unassuming environment imaginable.

But now it’s all over.

Miyake’s new incarnation is to be regarded as a completely separate entity from the old, in addition to being held to a much higher standard due to higher price tags. As a restaurant, it is amazing in a different way than the former Miyake was, with a gorgeous new dining room similar to what one may expect to find in New York City or Las Vegas. Most of the visually stunning serving dishes now come from Korin in New York, and the wine glasses purchased at Target have been replaced by real crystal stemware.

Masa Miyake now owns a farm in Freeport, where he raises pigs, guinea hen, ducks, and chicken, in addition to growing a plethora of vegetables. All of this, of course, is put to good use in his restaurants.

Much of the menu remains the same, though a bit more expensive, with the addition of several dinner entrees and a few more salad options. On this particular visit, I opt for the seven course chef’s omakase, an option I would strongly recommend for first time diners.

To go with my tasting menu I order the “high-end” wine and sake pairing, a much more appealing avenue than the seemingly out of place options listed on the regular drink menu.

An ice-cold Kirin Ichiban lager helps me get settled in as I case out the new digs. The amount of cooks on the line has been greatly increased from the old setup, in addition to the vastly superior array of kitchen equipment.

For amuse bouche I am presented with a John’s River oyster, grilled and topped with a leafy herb called shungiku. Next to that is a quail egg from Masa’s farm sitting in a pool of spicy Japanese mayo, and garnished with scallion and nori.

The pairing for this course is the “Silk” sake from Ichishima, a sweeter style that the representative from the brewery once told me was “designed for the American palate.”

The oyster is pleasant and mild, playing off the aromatic shungiku nicely. The combination of the creamy and spicy mayo with the quail egg gives it a “deviled” feel, with the scallion and nori providing a nice textural element. Unfortunately, the “Silk” sake pairing proves to be the weakest of the evening, by no fault of the food.

The first official course is blue fin tuna tartare with spicy sesame oil, shallots, and teriyaki sauce, garnished with a raw quail egg and served over orache, a leafy green with a salty, almost spinach-like taste.

Pairing with this is the Ichishima Junmai Ginjo, a much more palatable, drier-style sake than the “Silk.” It has subtle notes of cocoa and marshmallow, and syncs up perfectly with the richness of the tuna and the quail egg. The tartare has many layers of flavor and is much more refined than the mayo-driven version at the old Spring Street location.

Moving on to the sashimi course, I am poured a glass of Weingut Steininger Riesling Sekt, a sparkling wine from Austria. To be honest, this wine would go with pretty much anything I can imagine—including breakfast cereal—with its delightful balance of sweetness and acidity wrapped in soft bubbles. It’s so good, in fact, that I request a second glass.

To put it simply—I can’t imagine raw fish tasting any better than it does at Miyake. Every bite is more pleasurable than the one before it, and my assortment this evening is as follows: raw Maine lobster tail, Hamachi Toro (yellowtail belly), Hiramasa (yellowtail amberjack), Suzuki (striped bass), Kinme Dai (golden-eyed snapper), Tai (Japanese snapper), dashi-marinated salmon toro (belly), artic char, and Mirugai (giant clam).

The presentation has been greatly augmented in Miyake’s new location to fit the decor of the dining room, giving Masa’s food a more refined appearance. This is a good thing, provided that the new restaurant doesn’t forget its roots.

Course number three is trout, grilled yuan yaki style and accompanied by wax beans and local lettuce with bonito and cucumber vinaigrette. The fish is cooked on a ceramic Shichirin grill, which is powered by white charcoal made from Japanese oak called binchotan.

A glass of Kubo Shoten Denshin “Air of the Brewery” Junmai Daiginjo sake takes everything to the next level. Its sarsaparilla and fennel flavors match up perfectly with the smokiness of the trout, which is cooked to perfection. The wax beans and salad cool everything down while adding a bit of crunch.

As course four, lemon sole with sesame leaf, squash blossom, and white asparagus and fennel tartar sauce, arrives, I become confidant that seven courses will not be enough.

The non-intrusive sweetness, lemon-lime flavor, and zippy acidity of the next pairing, Weingut Gysler Scheurebe Halbtrocken from Germany, does not overpower the delicate sole. The tangy pickled white asparagus, creamy tartar, and surprisingly toothy sesame leaf, and perfectly seasoned squash blossom complete the equation.

An old favorite from Spring Street, barbequed swordfish belly, shows up in course five and is greatly improved from having spent time on the Shichirin grill. It is joined on the plate by a grilled shishito pepper covered in ponzu mayo, as well as hijiki seaweed and pickled ramp blossom.

The Antinori Cervaro della Sala, a Chardonnay blend from Umbria, is the surprise winner of the evening when it comes to a spot-on pairing. It has lightly oaky and almost tropical flavors, with a Chablis-like acidity, that cuts through the rich and fatty swordfish belly like no one’s business.

The pacing of my meal has been very relaxed; each course arrives about five minutes after I finish the one before it. Despite a busy dining room and multiple courses with pairings, I receive seamless and efficient service. I’m starting to get a little bit loved-up when course number six puts me right over the edge.

Galantine of Guinea Hen, stuffed with foie gras and braised leg, sits alongside a terrine of squab liver and foie gras, with an eggplant and aka miso (red) sauce underneath.

The pairing here has been split into two glasses, the first being the Weinbau Sattler St. Laurent, a red wine from Austria, for the Galantine, and the Domaine Tempier Rouge, French Mourvedre from Bandol, to compliment the terrine.

The Guinea Hen is a dish that I’d like to eat at every Thanksgiving meal for the rest of my life. Its rich and delicate flavors marry nicely with the cherry and black pepper notes of the St. Laurent, whereas the more aggressive, rustic characteristics of the Domaine Tempier are suited well with the squab liver terrine.

Don’t worry; we’re almost to the end.

What is intended to be my final course consists of four pieces of nigiri: blue fin tuna, otoro (the highest grade of bluefin belly), aji (horse mackerel), and mirugai (giant clam). Once again, raw fish doesn’t get any better than this—unless you serve it like this on top of perfect sushi rice, so there you have it.

The transition back into sake is seamless with the Ichinokura Taru “Ace Brewery Barrel Taru Junmai,” aged in cedar barrels. The flavor imparted by these barrels is joined by hints of lychee and white pepper, and is absolutely amazing with the nigiri, particularly the aji.

Thinking that I may be finished, I am presented next with mignardise, a spicy ginger and white chocolate bonbon, served with a glass of plum sake. For most people, this would be a perfect ending to a perfect meal. Not me.

I fire up an order of Maine Hamayaki—lobster, crab, and scallop lovingly drenched in Japanese mayo, then broiled, garnished with sansho pepper and white truffle oil, and plated up on a scallop shell. To wash all of this down, another glass of Antinori Cervaro is in order (though at this point, who wants to think about pairing anymore?).

After vanquishing the Hamayaki, I order a piece of seared foie gras nigiri as a “palate cleanser,” in addition to another glass of the sparkling Riesling. This is one of the most perfect bites in any restaurant anywhere, and no experience at Miyake should come to an end before including at least one taste like it.

Because the foie gras is so rich, it seems necessary to eat another piece of blue fin otoro nigiri. When anyone tells you that they don’t like raw fish, feed them a piece of this. If they say they still say they don’t like it you are perfectly justified in becoming very defensive, because this is one of the best things on Earth.

The addition of an actual pastry chef has brought the desserts at the new Miyake up to the level of the rest of the menu. That being said, I couldn’t leave without tasting the steamed yuzu pudding with blueberry compote and candied almonds and finishing off the last few drops of my Riesling. The dessert proves to be airy, delicate, and a fitting end to my extended meal.

After personally spending some of the best years of my restaurant career happily employed at the old location, I have to admit that I didn’t want to like the new concept. Though I, and many others, will always miss Spring Street, I can safely say that Miyake has grown up and is moving in a positive new direction.

This is one of the greatest dining experiences in Maine.

468 Fore St. | Portland | 207.871.9170 | miyakerestaurants.com