Here are the secrets of one of the best Japanese restaurants in Italy

By Simone Rosti

This is the story of a love turned obsession — for Japanese culture and sushi.

We’re talking about one of the most brilliant interpreters of Japanese cuisine in Italy, Francesco Preite, and his much-celebrated restaurant Moi Omakase in Prato. It’s enough to say that in February 2025, Preite completed his 74th trip to Japan — with the 75th already planned for November — in a constant pursuit of authenticity and perfection. His success, then, is anything but accidental.

Born in 1983 in Borgo San Lorenzo in the Mugello area, to a Calabrian father and a Neapolitan mother, Francesco Preite embodies a mosaic of Mediterranean roots and temperaments that blend into a curious, disciplined, and restless personality.

His gastronomic story began more than twenty-five years ago, when, at just twenty, he left Prato for Tokyo with an idea far removed from cuisine: to discover the secrets of the legendary samurai katana swords. But it was another kind of blade — the kitchen knife — that captured him for good. From that moment, his fascination drew him into the heart of Japanese cuisine, where hand, mind, and matter meet in a ritual of precision and beauty.

Moi Omakase: a Japanese enclave in the heart of Tuscany

So in 2009, with a touch of madness, he created Moi in his hometown of Prato — a place suspended between East and West, discipline and instinct — where each evening a few lucky guests experience something that is both a tribute to and a reinvention of Japanese culinary culture.

A sort of modern-day temple, where Japanese tradition meets Italian sensitivity, and where his dishes tell his story: his origins, his travels, and above all, his constant challenge to himself.

Entering Moi feels like stepping into a suspended world of pale, delicate tones designed for contemplation: light wood, soft lighting, a counter like an altar, and the chef as the high priest. Each evening, only ten guests sit at the counter, ready to be guided through a journey of around twenty courses. In the world of omakase, there’s no ordering — one entrusts oneself completely, entering a form of collective intimacy.

The chef becomes both guide and storyteller; every bite is a chapter in a narrative about the sea, time, and culture — a dance of millimeters, blades that glide like brushes on canvas, hands moving in silent choreography where nothing is left to chance. The result at Moi is a symphony of perfect touches, where technique and emotion chase each other without ever colliding, with subtle Western digressions adding personality to the dishes without ever compromising the Japanese aesthetic.

Western digressions

The elegant opening — gin and tonic with elderflower and mint ice leaf — sets the tone for an entrée of Hokkaido scallops, indescribably soft, served with a tiny maple leaf to balance their richness. Next comes grilled octopus with soy sauce, where the bitter, smoky edge of the grill stands out.

The playful journey continues with two knockout hits: First, a steamed Cancale oyster with sake and Tropea red onion marmalade — a nod to Preite’s southern roots — meant to be sipped like a shot. Then, a red prawn from Mazara del Vallo with a remarkable sauce born from the union of five-month fermented soy and a lemon glaze bursting with citrus brightness.

Then comes the heart of the experience: the nigiri, meant to be eaten immediately to preserve the rice’s warmth and the fish’s room temperature — first with sea bream from Livorno, carefully trimmed of every muscle, then with mormora and scampi.

A gunkan (small seaweed cup) follows, overflowing with salmon roe, and then a complex dashi broth with kombu seaweed, raw quail egg, chives, and trout roe for a saline note. Wild Alaskan salmon carries a primordial energy, while smoked sea bass (applewood-smoked on the upper side) is paired with fresh wasabi root. The bluefin tuna from Elba, taken from the dorsal cut, impresses for its purity and intensity, thanks to a high concentration of red blood cells.

A change of register arrives with another dashi broth, this time made from smoked and dried bonito flakes, enriched with red garlic from Sulmona, lemon zest, and purple shiso sprout, slightly more bitter than its green counterpart.

Then, a tartare of Santa Margherita Ligure shrimp, seasoned with drops of Apulian olive oil and grated yuzu zest. Here, Preite plays his ace card: his favorite fish, mahi-mahi (lampuga), served almost raw with a single kiss of flame, Okinawa wasabi salt, and a few drops of sudachi (a Japanese citrus).

The journey continues with dentex, white seabream, and eel, each prepared with millimetric precision and crystal-clear ideas about balance — flavors that linger on the palate long after.

In conclusion

If you want to understand what it means to watch cuisine come to life, go to Prato, knock on the door of Moi Omakase, and let yourself be captivated. Because what Francesco Preite offers is not just a restaurant — it’s a theatrical performance of precision and emotion, to be enjoyed (for once, not as a cliché) with all five senses.

As I left the restaurant, I thought about the so-called “crisis” in dining and couldn’t help but smile to myself: the waiting list is so long you could open a new Moi every day and still not meet the demand. But thankfully, there’s only this one — a unique place where slowness is a virtue and waiting is part of the pleasure.

Menu price: €140 (drinks excluded)

Moi Omakase, Viale Piave 10-12-14, Prato – Tel. 0574.065595