Miso

It was the last Friday night before Fall break and, while the dining halls can be great, the six of us needed something extra to help us get through the final stretch of midterms. Instead, we decided to head over to Miso, a Japanese restaurant about a ten-minute walk from campus. The restaurant is known for its fresh sushi at student-friendly prices — with classic rolls ranging from $8 to $10 and specialty rolls topping out in the mid-teens — making it one of the more reliable Japanese spots in New Haven. The atmosphere features modern, paneled walls, dim lighting, and a steady buzz of conversation, making it a perfect venue for a casual yet “nice” dinner that feels like a step up from the usual. The service was a little on the slower side, but not in the worst way – slow enough that we all really savored our appetizers, but not enough to make us check the time.

To start, we split spicy edamame, spicy tuna crispy rice and, of course, we each got miso soup. The spicy edamame was perfectly seasoned, spicy but not overwhelming. The crispy rice had a great texture – crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. I personally think the tuna could have had a bit more kick (though the other five people at my table disagreed). The miso soup was perfect – warm, comforting, and exactly what I needed. 

As a former vegetarian – four years strong from the beginning of my sophomore year of high school to the end of my first year at Yale – eating fish and meat still felt a little foreign to me. My friends suggested I ease back into fish, so yes, I was the person who got chicken katsu at a sushi restaurant. It felt like the safest entry point: crisp, familiar, and blissfully free of anything raw while I worked up the courage to rejoin the world of seafood. I have no regrets. 

The portions were massive and we all ended up sampling from each other’s plates, which made the dinner feel more like a shared experience than a formal meal. The chicken was the best thing I’ve had this semester and I even got a little adventurous – trying a bite of my friend’s spicy salmon roll. I didn’t hate it. Progress!

By the end of the meal, our table was a mess of finished plates and soy sauce—the good kind of chaos that comes with sharing everything. Between the dim light, background chatter, and comfort food, Miso felt like the perfect place to take a break from midterms. We left full, happy, already debating whether the extra roll had been a bold decision or a tactical mistake.