Flames, flavours and fond memories ignite as a longtime patron revisits Benihana’s iconic “dinner with a show,” journeying from The Avenues to the new Sabah Al Salem branch in search of culinary theatre and top-notch Japanese cuisine.
The familiar sizzle of butter on a searing grill and the rhythmic clack of spatulas against steel welcomed us before we even sat down. I felt a tingle of nostalgia mixed with excitement – this wasn’t my first Benihana experience, not by a long shot. For years, the Benihana at The Avenues Mall has been a beloved fixture of my family’s dining traditions. As we took our seats around the teppanyaki table at the new Sabah Al-Salem branch, I was instantly reminded why Benihana isn’t just about food; it’s about the show. In that moment, the stage was set for an evening where dinner and theatre would deliciously collide. Benihana’s concept is rooted in a rich history that spans continents. Founded in New York in 1964 by Rocky “Hiroaki” Aoki – a Japanese-born wrestler-turned-restaurateur with a flair for showmanship – Benihana was among the first to introduce America (and later, the world) to the joys of tableside hibachi cooking
Aoki’s idea was revolutionary for its time: combine teppanyaki – the Japanese art of grilling on an iron plate – with a dash of Broadway-style theatrics. Chefs would not only cook beef, chicken and shrimp on a flaming hot steel grill, but do so with dazzling tricks, punny jokes, and occasional literal fireworks. This “hibachi” dining concept (an American term for traditional teppan-yaki cooking, teppan meaning steel grill and yaki meaning broiled caught on like wildfire. In the decades since, Benihana’s blend of flavour and spectacle has made it a global icon of Japanese-American cuisine, with dozens of locations spanning from its native Tokyo and New York to cosmopolitan hubs in the Middle East. It’s fair to say that Benihana helped pave the way for Japanese cuisine’s worldwide appeal – turning foreign concepts like teppanyaki grilling and even sushi into familiar favorites.
My own Benihana journey began over a decade ago at the Kuwait Avenues branch. Walking into that restaurant for the first time, I recall being mesmerised by the sight of knife-wielding chefs in tall hats, effortlessly juggling salt shakers and tossing shrimp tails into their shirt pockets to delighted applause. Since then, countless birthdays, family gatherings and weekend dinners have drawn us back to that Ground Level enclave in The Avenues Mall – a place forever echoing with laughter, the hiss of soy sauce hitting the grill, and the phrase “Irasshaimase!” cheerfully called out in welcome. Those visits became cherished memories: the first time I caught a piece of flying shrimp in my mouth, the way my late grandfather’s face lit up at the onion volcano trick, or simply the comforting routine of the meal itself – steaming onion soup, crisp salad with that signature ginger dressing, and the anticipation of the main event. With such nostalgia attached to Benihana, news of a new branch in Sabah Al-Salem piqued my interest. Could it recreate the magic? Would a modern setting in a new neighbourhood live up to the legacy?
Stepping into the Sabah Al-Salem location at the Pixel Complex, I immediately noticed a fresh yet familiar ambiance. The décor strikes a balance between contemporary chic and Japanese charm. Sleek wood-panelled interiors and subtle lighting give it a modern upscale feel, while accents like a stylized wall mural of cherry blossoms and traditional lantern motifs nod to its Japanese roots. The centerpiece of course is the arrangement of communal teppanyaki tables, each a stage in miniature, surrounded by comfortable seating that grants every guest a front-row view. Despite being in a relatively new area, the restaurant was already abuzz on this weekend evening – a mix of families, couples on dates, and friend groups like ours, all murmuring in anticipation of the performance to come. Yet, thanks to a clever layout, it didn’t feel overwhelmingly noisy; rather, it was intimate and convivial, as if each table had its own private show while a warm communal energy tied the room together.
A hostess in a vibrant kimono-patterned uniform greeted us with a smile and promptly showed us to our table, where our chef would soon work his magic. The hospitality was immediately apparent. As we settled in, our servers draped a fresh napkin on our laps and took our drink orders. Before firing up the iron grill, our chef – a jovial gentleman – introduced himself and asked if anyone had any food allergies or dietary preferences. This level of attentiveness impressed me; one of my dining companions mentioned a shellfish allergy, and chef instantly assured her that he would prepare her portions separately and with utmost caution. It’s a small detail, but in an age of increasing dietary awareness, such mindfulness set a professional tone from the start. With formalities out of the way, the chef clapped his spatulas together in a showy “let’s begin” gesture, and the evening’s entertainment was underway.
The meal unfolded in courses, each bringing its own delights. First up was the Japanese onion soup. Served in petite bowls, this clear broth was a comforting opener: steaming and fragrant with hints of onion and mushroom. Floating on top were crispy fried onion strips and sliced scallions adding texture to each spoonful. Despite its simplicity (essentially a light dashi-style broth with a few ingredients), the soup had a depth of flavour that belied its appearance – a soothing umami warmth that gently awakened our taste buds. For me, that first sip was like Proust’s madeleine; it instantly transported me to all those past visits, recalling the same familiar taste that hasn’t changed a bit over the years. Next came the Benihana salad, a chilled bowl of fresh lettuce, shredded carrot and purple cabbage. The star was the dressing: that famous ginger dressing that Benihana aficionados rave about. Creamy yet tangy-sweet, it coated the crisp greens with notes of ginger and rice vinegar. I savoured each bite, crunching contentedly – it was as delightful as I remembered, a refreshing interlude before the rich feast to follow.
As we finished our salads, the chef reappeared with a tray of raw ingredients, and an expectant hush fell over our table – showtime! With a swift flourish, he spun his spatula and fork, eliciting a metallic jingle that turned heads from nearby tables. We watched eagerly as he began preparing the shrimp appetizer, the traditional next act of any Benihana meal. A knob of garlic butter hit the hot grill with a dramatic sizzle, and he placed a line of plump shrimp on the teppan. A mouth-watering aroma of browning butter and seafood rose in the air. “Everybody ready?” he quipped, flashing a grin, and with rapid-fire precision he started deveining and chopping the shrimp right on the grill. In a matter of minutes, the bite-sized morsels were cooked to a juicy opacity and deftly flicked onto each of our plates. Two little bowls had been set earlier at each place – the dipping sauces. One held a tawny, opaque ginger sauce, the other a cream-colored mustard sauce. Following Benihana tradition, the ginger sauce (zingy, with grated ginger and soy notes) is meant for seafood and vegetables, while the creamy mustard (blended with soy, mustard seed and hints of sesame) is a classic pairing for the meats. I tried the first shrimp plain to appreciate its natural sweetness and slight char – delightful. Then I dipped another into the ginger sauce; the bright, tangy kick transformed the flavour, marrying perfectly with the tender seafood. Across the table, appreciative murmurs confirmed that my friends were equally pleased with this appetiser. Notably, even as the shrimp sizzled and a brief flare of flame shot up when the chef added a splash of soy, the air remained clear – the restaurant’s exhaust system was clearly doing its job, whisking away smoke and odours with impressive efficiency. The only thing that lingered was the savory perfume of our meal in progress, enough to tantalise without overwhelming.
With the appetizer dispatched, it was time for the hibachi vegetables – and some real theatrics. Chef piled up a colourful array of sliced onions, courgettes (zucchini), mushrooms, and carrots onto the grill. A few quick chops and flips of his spatula later, the vegetables were artfully diced. As they cooked, he couldn’t resist engaging us in a bit of fun. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he tapped his spatula three times – a signal we’ve come to recognize – and then sent a small piece of zucchini flying towards an unsuspecting member of our group. We all broke into laughter as my friend fumbled the catch. On the second try, she succeeded in catching the airborne veggie in her mouth, earning her a round of applause from adjoining tables! The chef followed up with the ultimate Benihana classic: the onion volcano. Stacking concentric rings of onion into a little cone, he poured some oil inside and dramatically struck a match. Woosh! A plume of flame erupted from the onion stack, eliciting delighted gasps. The mini-volcano spewed its fiery “lava” for a moment before subsiding into a cloud of aromatic steam. “Viva Benihana!” our chef cheered, fanning away the last flickers – and we couldn’t help but cheer along. It’s a tried-and-true trick, one I’ve seen countless times, yet it never fails to charm. There’s a childlike glee in watching food become entertainment in that way, and judging by the smiles around, we all felt it. Crucially, even with that burst of flame, we remained comfortable thanks to the excellent ventilation – no smoke in our eyes, no acrid after-smell on our clothes, just pure enjoyment of the show.
By now, the chef had our full attention and we were eagerly awaiting the main course. The Benihana Trio – a combination of filet mignon, chicken and shrimp – was our chosen star of the night, and its components were arrayed raw and ready to hit the grill. With swift, practiced movements, he began with the filet mignon. The steak, trimmed into bite-sized cubes, met the grill with a satisfying sizzle. He pressed each piece down slightly to ensure a good sear. A splash of soy sauce (the source of that signature Benihana aroma) and a dab of garlic butter were added for flavour as he expertly sautéed the steak. Flames leapt up briefly around the beef as the seasonings caramelised. In moments, those filet cubes were glistening brown on the outside, which usually means medium-rare doneness inside – just as we’d requested. Using his spatula, the chef nudged a few pieces our way to test for readiness. I popped a piece into my mouth and reveled in its tenderness; it was buttery-soft inside with a lovely charred edge, juicy and rich. Next, the chicken took the stage. Cut into small chunks, it cooked quickly. The chef poured a teriyaki-based glaze over the chicken towards the end of its grilling, infusing it with a sweet soy glaze that coated each piece. The chicken sizzled and browned, picking up a shiny lacquer of flavour. Even a simple chicken breast can be transcendent when cooked hibachi-style – this was succulent, savoury, with just a touch of caramelised sweetness. Lastly, additional shrimp were thrown on the grill to complete the Trio. “Third time’s the charm!” our chef joked (it was indeed our third serving of shrimp including the appetizer, not that we were complaining). He gave these prawns a lighter treatment, a squeeze of lemon and a pat of butter, searing them just until they curled and turned opaque. They were plump and meaty, and perhaps thanks to our earlier practice, one of my friends managed to snag an extra tossed shrimp mid-air like a pro, prompting laughter and high-fives around.
As each element finished cooking, the chef artfully plated them on our warm plates, joining the grilled vegetables and a neat mound of steamed rice. (We had opted for the plain steamed rice this time, forgoing the egg-fried rice extravaganza to save room for other dishes – a small sacrifice, though I did momentarily miss the playful heart-shaped fried rice presentation that usually accompanies the fried version.) The portions were generous, and the colours on the plate – the golden seared chicken, the ruby-centered steak pieces, the pink coral shrimp, alongside vibrant green zucchini and orange carrot – made for an appetizing tableau. We dug in enthusiastically. I tried a forkful combining steak, rice, and a bit of grilled onion dipped in the creamy mustard sauce – it was divine. The mustard dipping sauce is a Benihana hallmark: velvety in texture, with mellow mustard warmth, a slight nuttiness from ground sesame, and soy’s saltiness tying it together. It elevated the beef and chicken beautifully, almost like a rich gravy with a kick. Meanwhile, the ginger sauce – thin, brown, and pungent with fresh ginger and vinegar notes – was excellent drizzled over the veggies and shrimp, adding a bright, palate-cleansing zing after the richer meats. Each bite became a choose-your-own-adventure of flavours: one with mustard sauce lending a creamy tang, the next with ginger sauce cutting through for contrast, and sometimes just the natural juices of the perfectly cooked meats speaking for themselves. Around the table, there were murmurs of approval and happy nodding between moments of comfortable silence – the kind that only happens when everyone is too busy enjoying their food to chat. Suffice to say, the Benihana Trio lived up to its reputation; it’s a best-of-all-worlds selection that satisfied our indecisive craving for “a bit of everything.”
In addition to the teppanyaki feast, we had also ordered a few dishes from the kitchen to share. The Ebi Tempura arrived just as we were polishing off the last of our mains, giving us a brief respite to reset our taste buds. Biting into a shrimp tempura yielded that incredibly satisfying crunch, followed by the sweet, oceanic flavour of the prawn itself – a delightful textural contrast to the grilled shrimp we’d been enjoying earlier. The tempura vegetables were equally good; the sweet potato had that soft, sweet center under a shattering crisp shell, and even those who claimed to be “too full for more” couldn’t resist snagging a second piece. Accompanying the Ebi Tempura was the classic tentsuyu dipping sauce – a light soy and dashi-based sauce – and a little mound of grated daikon radish to stir in. The sauce’s gentle salinity and the radish’s slight bite perfectly complimented the delicate fry on the tempura. It was an elegant side dish that highlighted Benihana’s range: not everything here is about pyrotechnics, they also execute traditional Japanese dishes with finesse.
Despite our growing fullness, we knew we had to try the desserts, especially as they carried on the playful tempura theme. We ordered two to share among the four of us: the Cheesecake Tempura and the Tempura Ice Cream. When these desserts arrived, even our chef – who had finished cleaning up the grill with a flourish and a final joke (“No more egg-cuses, I’m done!”) – lingered a moment to see our reaction. The Cheesecake Tempura came as several bite-sized squares of velvety cheesecake, each wrapped in a thin tempura crust and lightly dusted with powdered sugar. On the side was a drizzle of raspberry sauce adding a pop of color and tangy sweetness. I must admit, I was intrigued (and slightly skeptical) about fried cheesecake, but the first bite put any doubts to rest. It was heavenly: the outer shell was delicately crispy without a hint of oiliness, giving way to the lusciously creamy cheesecake inside. The contrast of temperatures – warm outside, cool interior – and textures made it one of those wow moments. It’s rich, yes, but splitting the portion made it just the right few bites of indulgence. The Tempura Ice Cream was equally delightful in concept. A scoop of vanilla ice cream had been coated in cake and tempura batter and flash-fried. It arrived as a golden-fried orb sitting in a pool of chocolate sauce, looking for all the world like some exotic croquette. We cracked it open to reveal the still-frozen ice cream inside. Each spoonful combined warm crunch and cold creaminess – a playful contradiction that brought grins to our faces. The vanilla ice cream, now slightly softened, oozed into the crispy shell, and the chocolate sauce provided a bitter-sweet note to round it off. In a meal full of highlights, these desserts held their own and provided a memorable finish.
Throughout the evening, service was consistently on point. Plates were cleared with unobtrusive efficiency. The manager made a polite stop at our table mid-meal to ensure everything was to our liking. Little touches, like offering to take a group photo when she saw us snapping pictures of the food, or promptly bringing extra ginger sauce when one friend became particularly enamoured with it, did not go unnoticed. Cleanliness also deserves a mention – the cooking area in front of us was kept impeccably tidy. After the chef finished cooking our meal, he expertly scraped and scrubbed the grill clean, leaving it spotless. Even the surrounding countertop, which often can get messy during an action-packed cooking session, was wiped down so fastidiously that it was hard to tell cooking had just happened there. Such attention to detail reinforces the sense that, while Benihana is all about fun and flair, it’s also serious about being a top-quality restaurant.
By the end of the night, our group was thoroughly satisfied – not just sated by the food, but charmed by the experience. We sat for a few minutes longer, chatting and reliving the meal’s best moments. “That steak was unbelievably good,” one friend mused, still savoring the memory of the filet mignon. “And I could drink that ginger sauce!” laughed another. My shellfish-allergic friend, who initially had some reservations about a seafood-heavy menu, expressed how pleased she was with the chef’s careful handling and her ability to enjoy everything worry-free. For me, the highlight was more holistic – it was how seamlessly the new Sabah Al-Salem branch managed to recreate the Benihana magic I knew so well from the Avenues. The core elements were all there: the friendly welcomes, the chef’s showmanship, the comforting flavors, and that feeling of communal joy around the table. Yet it also had a touch of newness – perhaps in the slightly different menu offerings, or the modern décor, or just the novelty of a different location – that made it feel like a fresh adventure rather than a rote repeat.
Benihana Kuwait, with its two locations (The Avenues Mall – Ground Level, Phase II, Al Rai, and now the Pixel Complex, Block 1, Street 136, Sabah Al-Salem), has succeeded in bringing this unique dining theatre to a broad audience. In a city where new restaurants come and go, Benihana has carved out a niche that’s as much about entertainment as it is about excellent food. It bridges cultures – a Japanese cooking style exported to America, now enjoyed in Kuwait – and in doing so, brings people together for shared moments of delight.
