Ate | altogether experimental | Omakase

Nikhita Kotru

2 days ago

5.0

Had such a lovely experience at ate Gurugram The food was absolutely delicious and beautifully presented — every dish looked as good as it tasted. The vibe and ambiance were perfectly done, making it such a relaxing and enjoyable place to spend time. The hosts were incredibly warm and friendly, which made the experience even better. And undoubtedly, one of the best coffees in town ☕️ Highly recommend this place!

Sanchit Luthra

1 week ago

5.0

The coffee was amazing. Especially the Brandy Sour and Raspberry rush. The food was amazing - the shawarma, the piggy back pizza. Completely sourced in house and amazing food. The french toast is just the cherry on the cake you wish for! The staff were very sweet. And the owners came and explained things to us. We also got free desserts. Definitely gonna visit again

Rahul Prabhakar

5 days ago

4.0

The Art of Slowing Down: ATE Omakase Gets It Right There is a particular kind of restaurant that Gurugram has been quietly missing. Not the kind that announces itself with a grand entrance, a rooftop skyline view, or a DJ who considers himself an essential part of the dining experience. I mean the kind of place that understands — really understands — that the most powerful thing a restaurant can do is make you forget, for a couple of hours, that the rest of the world exists at all. ATE Omakase, tucked into the first floor of Ascott Ireo City Central in Sector 59, is that place. Let me give you some context first, because context matters here. Most of you will know ATE — Altogether Experimental — the Delhi restaurant that husband-and-wife duo Vicky and Chef Anukriti built into something of a cult favourite. ATE worked because it understood a particular kind of urban ritual: the long coffee that turns into lunch, the conversation that refuses to end, the meal that feels less like a transaction and more like a pause in an otherwise relentless day. It was social, open, constantly in motion. ATE Omakase is something entirely different. And yet, in a strange way, it is also the most honest version of everything the couple has always believed in. When I sat down with the philosophy behind this place — and with omakase, you are always sitting down with a philosophy before you are sitting down with food — what struck me was the simplicity of the intention. This wasn't about introducing a Japanese fine-dining concept to Gurugram. It wasn't about the word omakase itself, which has been somewhat exhausted by restaurants that use it as shorthand for "expensive tasting menu." Vicky and Anukriti were interested in something more fundamental. They wanted to know what happens when you remove the noise. When the pace is set by the making, not the ordering. When craft is allowed to speak without being amplified. That, if you ask me, is a rather brave thing to attempt in a city that tends to reward the loud. The space itself does the philosophical heavy lifting before a single plate arrives. It is intimate — deliberately, almost aggressively so. There are no superfluous design gestures, no mood lighting engineered to make you feel you are having more fun than you actually are. What there is, instead, is a quality of attention. The kind of attention you notice only when you have been somewhere for twenty minutes and realised, with mild surprise, that you have not checked your phone once. This is harder to achieve than it sounds. Now, to the food and drink, because ultimately that is what we are here to discuss. I began with the Berry Oat Blush — ATE's house blend espresso pulled through strawberries and finished with oat milk — and I want to say that this drink deserves far more attention than its charming name might suggest. The espresso here is confident enough to hold its own against the fruit without being muscular about it. The strawberry is present as a genuine flavour note, not a syrup afterthought. The oat milk rounds everything off with a creaminess that feels earned. It is the kind of drink that makes you reconsider your standing order everywhere else. The Berry Lemonade — crushed berry compote, lime cordial, organic honey, sparkling water — was, frankly, the most refreshing thing I have had in recent memory. It had that quality that the best non-alcoholic drinks achieve: complexity that makes you forget you are not drinking something with alcohol in it. The Chicken Katsu arrived and immediately commanded the table's full attention, which is no small feat for a sandwich. Milk bread — properly made milk bread, pillowy and ever so slightly sweet — cradled a panko-crumbed chicken katsu that had been fried with the kind of precision that produces a crust which shatters on contact but leaves the chicken within perfectly moist. The in-house kimchi was the detail that made everything click into place. Sharp, fermented, alive — it cut through the richness of the katsu and the Kewpie with exactly the acidity the dish needed. Scallions and pickles completed the picture. This is a sandwich that understands itself completely. The Cuban Pulled Chicken Taco was a more relaxed affair — soft shell, generously filled with chicken that had been given the time and spicing it deserved. The seasonal salsa brought freshness, and the sour cream brought balance. What I appreciated was that neither element was trying to steal the show. It is a taco that trusts its ingredients, which is, in my experience, the mark of a kitchen that knows what it is doing. Dessert was the Double Chocolate Chocolate Cake — a construction of soft chocolate and almond torte, dark chocolate ganache, a smooth 55% chocolate mousse, and a chocolate streusel finish — and I want to be precise about what this dish achieves. It is not merely chocolate used several times. Each layer has its own temperature, its own texture, its own register of sweetness and bitterness. The torte is dense without being cloying. The ganache is serious. The mousse is the moment of levity that the dessert needs. The streusel provides the final note of texture, the thing your spoon keeps seeking out even after you have told yourself you are finished. I was not finished for quite some time. Here is what I think Vicky and Anukriti have understood about omakase that many of its imitators have not: the word means 'I leave it up to you' ... and the "you" is the chef. But the deeper truth is that it also means the guest must leave something behind — the impulse to control, to over-order, to perform the act of dining rather than simply experiencing it. ATE Omakase asks you to be a more patient version of yourself. To notice things. To sit with what is in front of you. In an age when restaurants increasingly compete on spectacle, this is a genuinely radical proposition. And the remarkable thing is that it works. If you have been looking for a reason to make the drive to Sector 59, this is it. Go with someone whose company you actually enjoy. Turn your phone face down. Order the Berry Oat Blush. And let the kitchen do what it clearly does very well. You can thank me later.

Karishma Govil

1 week ago

3.0

I was extremely excited when I saw several Instagram posts talking about the new ate Omakase but this place didn’t live up to all the hype. Omakase, very fancy name and concept, but there’s absolutely nothing Omakase about this place. The coffee was really good, we ordered OG Coffee Tonic, Rare Cold Brew and Almond Croissant Latte. The mains were absolutely disappointing, we ordered the Katsu bowl - the kimchi didn’t taste good, there was no ‘curry’/sauce. The Cuban Pulled chicken - the chicken was not seasoned at all so was flavourless, the rice too dry. The Red noodle curry was very average. The only saving grace was the Cheesecake French Toast, it was the right amount of sweet and paired so well with the custard cream. I’ll probably only visit for a coffee and dessert.