Inside Brisbane’s Most Exclusive Restaurant You’ve Probably Never Heard Of
By Invite Only
It’s no coincidence that Brisbane’s most exclusive restaurant is also one that you’ve probably never heard of. Six seats a night. Three nights a week. No signage. No website. And yet, when reservations opened for 2026 last month, they booked out in just one day.
Headed by chef Katsu Huang, Katsu Ya is as private as it is coveted. I’m seated at the six-person table overlooking Chef Katsu’s kitchen. The space is intimate but considered. Windowsills lined with Japanese sake; shelves scattered with trinkets and figurines collected over the years. Despite the elusive, somewhat intimidating reputation Katsu Ya has earned, the atmosphere is disarmingly warm. It’s like pulling up a stool at a friend’s kitchen bar and catching up while they make dinner.
It’s by design. Chef Katsu’s philosophy is simple: the restaurant is an extension of his home, and guests are treated like friends invited over for the evening. A night at Katsu Ya is about good conversation, good sake, and good food — and as any host would agree, if your guests aren’t respectful, you will not be invited back.
The booking system mirrors this ethos; it’s referralonly. If you’ve managed to snag a seat as one of their 900-odd diners for the year – first of all, congratulations. Second, someone had to vouch for you. “If you want to be someone’s reference, you can,” he explains. “But if your friend messes up, they will be banned, and you will be banned too.”
What does “messing up” mean? Not respecting him. Not respecting his food. Arriving late. “This whole place is just about me,” he laughs. “It’s what I want to share with my friends and family. If you don’t appreciate that, that’s okay. These doors lock.”
There’s a process of trust here, and the “customer is always right” mentality doesn’t apply. On the subject of their strict 15-minute grace period, Katsu says: “You can waste my time, but you can’t waste the other customers’ time. So, I have to say sorry, but you can’t come in. But that’s my loss. I won’t charge you.”
It’s not a marketing ploy or an attempt to manufacture exclusivity — it’s simply how he runs his kitchen. In fact, Katsu doesn’t really believe in marketing at all. He prefers to keep things intentionally low-key, letting the food, and the experience, speak for itself. There’s no website, no Google reviews. Just an Instagram account, quietly opened for bookings once a year, and word-of-mouth from those lucky enough to secure a seat.
“This is not my job,” he says simply. “This is my hobby, and I want to share what I love.”
Each night’s menu is entirely dictated by what Chef Katsu wants to cook and eat. Tonight, it’s bluefin tuna from Japan, dry-aged for two weeks; plump scallops; a creamy sea urchin; and an 11-score wagyu presented with the cow’s birth certificate and nose print, amongst other things.
He promises “the best steak of your life,” and he’s not wrong. The wagyu is seared on the hibachi grill, unseasoned, then served in a clear dashi broth he’s spent three hours preparing before we even arrived.
Every dish is stripped back to the essentials: a squeeze of yuzu, a drizzle of his homemade soy sauce, a pinch of chives, a bump of caviar. It’s remarkably simple, humble food, where the premium ingredients from his trusted suppliers do all the talking.
For Katsu, it’s not about chasing accolades. He’s not interested in Michelin stars or Chef Hats. He just wants six people a night to experience what he loves most. And for those lucky enough to walk through that unmarked door and take a seat in his kitchen, it’s a dining experience that will stay with you for a long time, unlike anything else Brisbane has to offer.
Imagery: Natalie McGowan
