Buffalo Spree Magazine

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Sushi Superstars
By Gwen Ito

Kuni Sato
“I thank them [my customers] for coming...and they thank me by coming back.”
— Kuni Sato

Patrons of the cozy sushi bar at 752 Elmwood should be thankful that their host, owner Kuni Sato, is the youngest in a traditional Japanese family. Indeed, if he’d been born the eldest, he would have probably never made his way to the United States — let alone Buffalo, New York.

Kuni Sato.
Photo by Jim Bush.

The man famous for introducing raw fish and other Asian delicacies to the Elmwood Strip was born in a tiny village near Niigata, where, like his father, the majority of male residents are proud rice farmers. Family custom puts enormous pressure on the oldest son to stay rooted in his hometown. Kuni admits that it was his brother, the oldest of three children, who had to fall in line with tradition. By contrast, Kuni’s parents encouraged him to “do whatever you want, go wherever you want.”

So right out of high school, the free-spirited Sato followed his heart, leaving the close-knit community of his childhood for the bright lights and bold pace of Tokyo. He took a job in a supermarket restaurant, where he learned to prepare Asian and Western cuisine. Kuni explains that as far back as he can remember, “I just wanted to cook.” Growing up, he would help his mother in the kitchen — an uncommon passion for most Japanese boys.

In the early 1980s, Kuni briefly returned home after his brother asked for help running a trendy coffee shop. But the side business quickly folded, and Kuni again set off on his own — this time to work in a Western-style “snack bar” that featured lively karaoke. With no serious plans for the future, he was simply enjoying his freedom, going out with friends and customers just about every night. But after a couple of years of “too much fun,” Kuni felt the need to “get a real job.” That meant going back to Tokyo to work for a coffee machine company, which had him repairing espresso machines in hotels and restaurants until late at night. If he missed the last subway train home, he simply curled up on a cot in the office, or slept at one of Japan’s famous “capsule hotels.” He didn’t mind succumbing to the Tokyo workaholic routine; he admired the two bosses who were teaching him the art of gambare, or perseverance.

In August 1990, Kuni visited a high school friend who had relocated to New York and opened a catering business. It was a week-long trip that would change Kuni’s life. He reminisces how, gazing at the Manhattan skyline shortly after his arrival, he took a deep breath and thought, “This is it. Wow.” Drawn to the spontaneity and laid-back attitude of New Yorkers, Kuni was compelled to reflect on his own yearnings. If Tokyo was about stress and workaholism, New York City meant freedom and individuality. He grins as he describes his romantic impression of the East Village, where the people were “just hanging out all day doing nothing.”

A few months after he returned home to Japan, the same friend called and made Kuni an offer he couldn’t refuse: come back to the U.S. and become a business partner. By February of 1991, he’d made the decision to quit his job in Tokyo for another serendipitous career move. Though shocked and upset, his mother knew “she wouldn’t be able to change my mind.”

Sato’s fascination with American culture began long before that memorable vacation. He recalls being nine years old and listening to one of his sister’s records — a sixties pop hit called “Simple Simon Says” by the 1910 Fruitgum Company. Western movies figured prominently in his image of America as well. Whether it was the physical stature of cowboy heroes like John Wayne and Clint Eastwood, or the wide-open landscape dominating the screen — the hugeness of everything intrigued him.

Working in New York turned out to be less liberating than Kuni had imagined. Even though his friend taught him how to prepare sushi, the new business partner was mainly selling omelets and shrimp to Japanese restaurants. And instead of mingling with Americans after hours, he found himself staying at home with his friend’s family in New Jersey. “I was bored,” he explains.

Eight months after his arrival, Kuni told his friend he was going home. Then, almost as an afterthought, he decided to thumb through the “help wanted” section in a New York-based Japanese language paper. He answered an ad placed by an employment agency. Convinced by the recruiter’s glowing recommendation, Kuni applied for the position: assistant chef for Saki’s, a posh sushi restaurant in Buffalo, New York. He got the offer and promptly accepted — only to learn that not only hadn’t his recruiter ever been to Buffalo, he didn’t even know where it was.

Kuni Sato's sushi.
Photo by Jim Bush.

Kuni began working at Saki’s, located in the Guaranty Building, in 1992. Within a few months, he became the head chef. Friends helped him get an apartment in Allentown, and Kuni soon became a regular customer at the Towne Restaurant. The defining moment in his budding romance with Buffalo occurred during lunch there one day. When Kuni asked about the tasty green object on his plate, the waitress responded by bringing him a big bowl of pepperoncini — on the house. He smiles, “I thought ‘What a nice person! This is a great city...Maybe I should stay here!’”

Despite the support of a growing circle of American friends, the four and a half years at Saki’s proved exhausting, and Kuni finally quit. After a few months of exploring other U.S. cities, including Boston and Seattle, he returned to Buffalo for one express purpose: to open his own restaurant. He wanted to offer the city an alternative to Saki’s — an affordable place that could become “a part of people’s daily life,” not just an exotic setting for elite business deals. More importantly, he needed a way to stay in the City of Good Neighbors.

The Elmwood Strip seemed just the right location for the new business. Kuni took his savings and began the relentless treks to banks and City Hall. He nearly gave up because of all the red tape over a business license and permits — made ten times worse by the English language barrier. As the restaurant’s opening day got closer, the nervous owner obsessed about the many “what ifs.” Despite sleepless nights, he reaffirmed his reason for risking his life’s savings — he was doing it all “to live in Buffalo.” In April of 1996, Kuni’s Sushi Bar opened. Kuni laughs that it was “busy from day one — way more than I expected.” With just him behind the bar, two people on the floor, and “one guy in the kitchen,” the scores of enthusiastic customers were “almost too much.”

Kuni’s is now enjoying its sixth successful year, and the amiable restaurateur is quite content with life in his adopted city. In addition to a thriving business, he has a “house I really love,” and can even appreciate the Buffalo winters. The Sato family is thrilled with his success — and a little amazed by his celebrity. During one visit, Mrs. Sato was walking with her son when a passerby exclaimed, “Hi, Kuni.” His mother gushed, “Oh, you’re famous!”

He returns to Japan every few years, but never stays longer than ten days. Kuni admits that after a week, he’s already homesick for Buffalo. He misses the air, for one thing. “I can’t explain it...but it somehow smells more clear here.”

After decades of wanderlust, it seems that Kuni Sato has found his niche. For him, being in the restaurant business is “not just about serving food, but helping the community.” He’s proud to have created a neighborhood establishment, where many sushi lovers eat dinner at least twice a week. “I thank them for coming,” he explains, “and they thank me by coming back.”

Kevin Lin
“Working in Tokyo taught me the techniques of sushi; Wegmans has taught me the techniques of business.”

Kevin Lin.
Photo by Jim Bush.

There are two misconceptions that Chef Kevin Lin would like to clear up right away: One is that sushi is just raw fish, and the other, that only Japanese can make sushi. The astute businessman, who manages two successful franchises in area Wegmans stores, takes great pride in telling curious shoppers about the sushi he creates. First and foremost, the word means “vinegar rice,” and refers to the way the Japanese dish is prepared. Indeed, raw fish is only one of many possible ingredients. Once Kevin has educated his customers about his culinary passion, he’s eager to give them a lesson on his ethnicity. The native of Myanmar (formerly Burma) is half Burmese and half Chinese. “So many people think I’m Japanese,” he laughs. While it’s true that Kevin speaks fluent Japanese, that’s only one of a few languages he knows.

Kevin’s wife, Stephanie, who helps out at the sushi franchises, was also born in Myanmar. The two grew up in the same city, Dawei, which is located near the coast of the Andaman Sea. Dawei lies about hundred miles south of the terminus for the infamous Bangkok-Rangoon “death railway” of World War Two, made famous on screen in the 1957 classic, “Bridge on the River Kwai.” For the Lins, the long and interesting journey that finally brought them to this country was filled with its own unique challenges.

When they first met in December of 1989, it didn’t take long for Kevin to realize that Stephanie was the woman with whom he wanted to share his life. He’d been introduced to her by his friend, one of Stephanie’s brothers. From the very beginning, Kevin, an only child, felt comfortable around his girlfriend’s large family, which included three sisters and five brothers. By 1990, he was anxious for a career that would allow him the confidence he needed to make a lasting commitment to his future wife.

Another woman who played a key role in Kevin’s early ambition was his mother. He explains that when he was just three months old, his father died in a tragic accident. It was an event that intensified the bond with his only living parent, and forced adult responsibilities onto him at an early age. Grateful for his mother’s love and strength, he wanted more than anything to learn how to take care of her as they both got older. Though he studied auto mechanics in high school, Kevin soon realized the value in honing practical business skills. At age twenty, he tried his luck at running a rice noodle business; a few years later, he was managing a men’s retail clothing store. But it became increasingly clear to this aspiring entrepreneur that his economically depressed country offered few long-term prospects.

So in 1990, Kevin made the gutsy decision to relocate to Tokyo, Japan, where he hoped to build up a resume that could open more than a few doors abroad. The idea was to make enough money so he could marry Stephanie. The two would then settle down in a place with more promise than their native country—ideally, the United States — and eventually find a way to care for his aging mother.

One of Kevin’s first jobs was washing dishes in the Shinjuku district. It took another few years for his big break: becoming a chef’s assistant at a raku raku restaurant on the Ginza, Tokyo’s version of Park Avenue. It was here he learned the fine art of preparing sushi. Earning a decent living, Kevin was nevertheless bothered by the reality that because he was not a Japanese native, he could never aspire to anything more than assistant chef.

Kevin Lin.
Photo by Jim Bush.

While her future husband was earning his culinary stripes abroad, Stephanie remained in Myanmar. She earned a college degree in zoology and then became a wholesale dealer of imported dried foods at a government-controlled market. Throughout their six-year separation, the two communicated through frequent letters and phone calls. Kevin remembers phoning Stephanie before setting out for work each morning. Every half-hour conversation helped him reaffirm his “clear purpose” for the self-imposed exile to Tokyo.

In 1996, Stephanie applied for, and won, a visa through the American government’s lottery system. She quickly inquired with the U.S. consulate if she could bring with her a close family member, namely, her husband. On April 20, Kevin returned home from Tokyo and a month later, he and Stephanie were married. “We felt on top of the world,” Kevin beams.

They arrived in Queens in July 1996. Kevin immediately set about finding employment, which included restaurant jobs in Manhattan and Long Branch, New Jersey. Within a few months, one of his childhood friends, a successful sushi chef, told Kevin about the AFC Company, a franchise based in Los Angeles.

It was AFC’s contract with the Wegmans supermarket chain that brought Kevin and Stephanie to Erie, Pa., and soon after, Buffalo. They still recall the grand opening of the Amherst Street Wegmans store in November of 1997. Five years later, Kevin remains committed to his sushi enterprise; he hopes to open more supermarket sushi shops in the area. “Working in Tokyo taught me the techniques of sushi; Wegmans has taught me the techniques of business,” he explains. A few years ago, the chef had the opportunity to transfer to Tallahassee, Fla., whose hot temperatures more closely resemble the climate of his birthplace. But after a visit, Kevin concluded that not only are the supermarkets in Western New York much better, the people of Buffalo are more open-minded about delicacies like sushi. So Lin declined the transfer, a decision that was just fine with his wife. “I love the snow!” she laughs.

As they sit next to each other and recount how they made their way to this city, Kevin and Stephanie Lin — born Kyaw San Oo and Nan Cho Lin — can’t help smiling. This past summer, on June 13, they made it official. After legally changing their names, they were sworn in as U.S. citizens during a courthouse ceremony downtown.
“We’re home in Buffalo,” Kevin says happily.

Gwen Ito is a freelance writer living in Buffalo.

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