If someone in Ulsan asks me where to go for a proper Japanese omakase, Haebaragi (해바라기) in Dal-dong is the first name out of my mouth.
It sits in a quiet alley behind the Samsan food street, not far from the Ulsan intercity bus terminal.
I’ve been a handful of times and always walked out happy, so this round I went all in on the 90,000-won omakase course.
The short version: it isn’t cheap, but between the spread, the portions, and the service, the price made sense to me.
Below I’ll walk through how to book, what the private rooms actually look like, and exactly what came out, course by course.
The basics
- Name: Haebaragi (해바라기), Japanese omakase
- Address: 10 Dalsam-ro 72beon-gil, Nam-gu, Ulsan (달삼로72번길 10)
- Hours: Mon–Sat 17:30–24:00 (last order around 23:00) / closed Sundays
- Instagram: @ulsan_haebaragi
- Parking: 3–4 cars in front, tight; a nearby public lot is the easier bet
- Good to know: restrooms inside, corkage available
📍 View Haebaragi (해바라기) on Google Maps →
A couple of things that make life easier for visitors from abroad: almost every restaurant in Korea, Haebaragi included, takes internationally issued credit cards, so you don’t need to carry much cash.
There’s also no tipping culture here — staff may actually be a little flustered if you try, so just pay the bill and go.
And while the staff didn’t speak much English when I visited, ordering was no trouble at all; you can point at the menu and hold up fingers for how many.
For getting around, skip Google Maps walking and transit directions in Korea (they’re often off) and use Naver Map or KakaoMap instead.
How to book
Haebaragi basically runs on reservations, so book ahead — really.
The easiest route is the CatchTable app (캐치테이블).
You pick the date, number of people, and the course (omakase or the standard course), and you’ll prepay a deposit of about 10,000 won per person.
When you show up and dine, the deposit is automatically refunded in full.
Mine came back without me having to ask.
If you’re in a pinch, you can also call.
When I phoned the same day, only the counter (datchi) seats were left.
On weekends or during the evening peak, walking in without a reservation can mean no table at all, so booking about a week out saves you the stress.
What about the private rooms?
A lot of people ask about the rooms, so here’s the honest picture: Haebaragi does have partitioned private rooms (룸).
They’re toward the back of the restaurant, and when I went, both rooms were already fully booked — they’re popular.
As a rule of thumb you’ll usually need a party of three or more to reserve one.
The rooms are walled off, so they’re great for a quiet meal — bringing kids, dining with parents, or any small gathering where you’d rather not have the buzz of the main floor.
Just know that the rooms book up too, so confirm on CatchTable or by phone in advance.
I’ve also sat at the counter, and honestly it’s its own kind of fun.
The L-shaped bar faces the open kitchen, so you watch the chefs work right in front of you, and the staff explain each dish as it lands.
There are four-top tables too, so you’ll be seated according to your group size.
The whole place leans warm wood with slightly dim lighting, so it reads upscale.
That said, on nights heavy with company dinners and group outings, it can get a bit loud.
I personally prefer that kind of lively room over a hushed, formal omakase — less pressure — but if you’re picturing a quiet anniversary dinner, the private room is the move.
Menu and prices
Haebaragi keeps it simple with two courses.
- Haebaragi course, 60,000 won per person — chawanmushi, truffle ceviche, assorted sashimi, sukiyaki, fried shrimp, futomaki, and an ice cream dessert
- Omakase, 90,000 won per person — a fuller, chef’s-choice progression built around whatever’s good that day
Beyond that, there’s a deep drinks list: sake, Japanese shochu, Hwayo, highballs, and pours by the glass.
If you want to bring your own wine or sake, corkage is allowed.
(The corkage fee has shifted over time — it was free during a promo once, then 5,000 won for a stretch, and most recently I was quoted around 10,000 won. Worth confirming when you book.)
This time I went with the 90,000-won omakase.
The lineup changes with the season and the day’s ingredients, so take this as “here’s how it came out for me,” not a fixed menu.
The 90,000-won omakase, dish by dish
Things open with chawanmushi, the Japanese savory egg custard.
There’s a plump shrimp tucked inside, the seasoning is gentle, and it’s the silkiest version I’ve had.
The potato salad alongside was just sweet enough, not cloying.
The banchan spread is generous too — cabbage salad, ginger, pickled scallions (rakkyo), pickles, sweet radish, the lot.
Next comes the truffle ceviche (트러플 세비체), which arrives wreathed in smoke.
It’s oak-smoked fish with truffle sauce and vegetables, and they kindly ask if you want a photo before the little smoke performance, so I grabbed a quick shot.
The smokiness and truffle play better together than I expected — a proper appetite-opener.
The truffle sauce can run a touch salty, so go easy with it.
Then a single piece of charcoal-grilled eel (장어구이).
One piece, but a big one, so it’s a full bite.
The glaze is so good it more or less melts away in your mouth.
Monkfish liver (ankimo, 아귀간) shows up too — rich and melting, a real treat if you love it, though it can read a little heavy if offal isn’t your thing.
This one’s down to taste.
And then the heart of the omakase, the modeum sashimi (모둠사시미), assorted sashimi.
Tuna belly, salmon, flounder, sea bream, yellowtail, sweet shrimp, plus whatever’s in season — each one thick-cut, and the platter alone gets you going.
The staff name each fish as they go, and someone suggested a squeeze of lime over the soy sauce for extra savoriness, which really did work.
The cuts are thick enough that you start filling up here.
I kept turning the salmon every which way just to show how chunky it was.
After the sashimi comes sushi (초밥).
Depending on the season you might get gizzard shad or mackerel nigiri — and the mackerel was a standout, none of the fishiness you’d brace for, just nutty and clean.
There’s also a course where you wrap sea urchin (uni), scallop, sweet shrimp, and cucumber in gamtae (감태, a fine seaweed) one bite at a time.
It’s full of sea-bright flavor and melts on the tongue — pile it on and you feel a little fancy.
Around the midpoint comes the jeonbok naejang pasta (전복내장 파스타), abalone innards pasta — the dish that stuck with me most that night.
Abalone and garlic on top, the sauce built rich from the innards.
That dense, briny depth is hard to forget.
Honestly, this single plate alone made the 90,000 won feel fair.
Just as you think you’re full, out comes a crisp crab cream croquette (게살 크림 고로케) — crunchy outside, loaded with crab and cream inside, impossible to skip.
A few clams steamed in sake on the side, too.
A fist-sized futomaki (후토마키) rolls out next, packed tight with fillings.
I’m a sucker for futomaki at izakayas, so this one made me happy.
The warm sukiyaki (스키야키) doesn’t get skipped either.
Thin-sliced beef and vegetables simmered in a shallow, savory broth — it lands at just the right point in the course, warming you back up after all that cold sashimi.
The meal winds down with a solbap (솥밥), a clay-pot rice with flaked fish, and miso soup.
There’s crisp fried fish folded into well-seasoned rice, and it pairs beautifully with the deep miso broth.
I was already stuffed and still kept reaching for it.
There’s also a soy-braised mero (메로조림, Patagonian toothfish) — or mackerel, depending — so tender it practically dissolves.
This braise is dangerous over rice.
Dessert is a soft milk ice cream; some seasons it’s a vanilla injeolmi (rice-cake) version.
Stuffed as I was, there’s always room for that last spoonful.
So, would I go back?
The good first: the course is genuinely full and the portions are generous.
Finish the whole 90,000-won omakase and you’ll waddle out.
The tableware is lovely, the staff walk you through each dish and even toss in little tips on how to eat them, and you come away feeling looked after.
The sashimi is thick and fresh, and since the lineup shifts each time, it doesn’t get old over repeat visits.
Now the less-good, honestly.
On busy nights packed with company dinners, don’t expect a hush.
If you came for a quiet, formal anniversary, it can feel a bit loud — which is exactly why I’d book the private room.
Some dishes, like the monkfish liver or the more strongly scented ones, will split opinion.
And I’ve heard from people who felt the same 90,000-won omakase wasn’t quite as special as they’d hoped, so your mileage may shift a little with the day and the ingredients.
Still, I’ll be back, no question.
When I want proper sashimi and a real Japanese course in Ulsan, this is where my mind goes first, and next time I might just drop in for à la carte plates and a glass of sake.
If you’re watching the budget, start with the 60,000-won Haebaragi course; if you want the full ride, go for the 90,000-won omakase.
Getting there
It’s tucked in a quiet alley behind the Samsan food street, and the sign stands out from a distance, so it’s easy enough to find.
It’s close to the Ulsan intercity bus terminal, which is a handy landmark to navigate by.
If you’re driving, the 3–4 spaces out front fill fast and the lot is tight, so parking at a nearby public lot and walking over is the smoother plan.
Without a car, a taxi via the KakaoT app from the terminal is quick and inexpensive.