In a now famous, Schwab's Soda Fountain style-story, Robert De Niro came into the restaurant with Roland Joffe (who directed him in "The Mission") and became entranced by Matsuhisa's food. Matsuhisa had no idea who his famous client was.

De Niro invited him to New York, where the actor had just bought a coffee warehouse in lower Manhattan. They walked around the empty space talking about De Niro's plans and his hope that Matsuhisa would open the future TriBeCa Grill. But he wasn't ready.

Even though Matsuhisa turned down De Niro's offer, De Niro kept eating at Matsuhisa Restaurant whenever he was shooting a movie in Los Angeles. "Bob doesn't say anything after I say no. Then finally after four years he calls me at my house. Is Nobu ready to come to New York? Do you know what it means? It means he is waiting, waiting, waiting, four years for me. He was watching me. The first time he called me nobody knew Matsuhisa, because I was not a success yet. Then after four years a lot of people knew my name, the restaurant was a success. That's why I came. I so appreciate him. He says 'Don't worry ... I am here.'"

Nobu, as the restaurant was named, opened in midsummer, when Manhattan's who's who has fled to the Hamptons. Other Japanese chefs in New York told Matsuhisa he'd be out of business within six months, but the restaurant was an instant success, drawing everyone from former Secretary of State George Shultz to members of the glitterati. Once Nobu New York had opened, Matsuhisa and his partners, De Niro, restaurateur Drew Neiporent and movie producer Meir Teper ("What's Eating Gilbert Grape?"), opened Nobu restaurants in London and then Tokyo.

If New York was risky, Tokyo was a downright intimidating return for this prodigal son who was very familiar with the restrictive environment of traditional Japanese cooking. "I was worried about it before opening because I'm afraid they didn't respect my food in Japan, because the Japanese are always very traditional about Japanese food. This is different from the United States, Japanese food has a long history."

Despite his concerns, Matsuhisa was confident about his food and his understanding of what people would enjoy eating. He also understood the fashion component of the restaurant business and the fact that the Japanese, like the denizens of his other cities, were looking for a new flavor, not to mention that his reputation and his celebrity clientele would make the restaurant a success.

Then came the backlash. When the Los Angeles Times did a story about the Japanese delicacy of "ikezukuri," live-fish sashimi, where the fish is carved live and reassembled on the plate, head and all. A local news crew picked up the story and showed up with cameras asking Matsuhisa to demonstrate ikezukuri. He pulled a live fish out of the tank, sliced it and served it. After the piece was broadcast, Matsuhisa had 50 calls in 10 minutes accusing him of cruelty, including calls from Greenpeace and animal-rights activists. He was incredulous. "People eat the chicken, people eat the beef, they still say, 'Don't kill the fish.' This is a 2,000-year-old, very traditional Japanese way to prepare fish. It has a history."

He called the station asking them not to air the piece again, but they told him that all the calls they'd gotten were from people looking for reservations. "The TV station lied to me. The next Sunday they showed it again twice. Again a lot of phone calls, a lot of complaints. You know what they say? 'You going to kill the fish, I'm going to put a bomb in front of the restaurant.' I think, are you crazy? Fish! I just show the ikezukuri! I was so scared of a bomb that I never do ikezukuri anymore. But," he adds, "we still do the live lobster."

Flying on the Concorde, Matsuhisa visits as many as three different restaurants in three different cities in a single day. At this point he only cooks about three to four days a month, spending the rest of the time supervising the kitchens, communicating new recipes to his various chefs and combing Tsukiji for new ingredients.

Strolling around this year's James Beard Awards (the culinary equivalent of the Oscars, where Matsuhisa was nominated for his third consecutive "Outstanding Chef of the Year" award), dressed in an elegant Armani tux, he is friendly with many of the other top chefs. But one, Wolfgang Puck, who is also based in Los Angeles, has a special place in Matsuhisa's heart.

"They are all my friends, but Wolfgang Puck is my hero. He has a good business, plus he is Austrian. He came here and is a success." Matsuhisa has even opened the first of his simpler noodle and tempura restaurants, Ubon, in the Beverly Center mall, which is clearly inspired by Puck's chain of cafes.

Like Puck, Matsuhisa is becoming a celebrity in his own right. Herb Ritts photographed him for a Gap ad a couple of years ago. This made his face so recognizable that on a trip to Japan with De Niro to promote "Casino" (in which Matsuhisa made his acting debut in the role of a Japanese gambler), people in a department store recognized him, but not the dark-haired white guy he was with.

With fame has come fortune: Last year Forbes magazine put Matsuhisa on its list of top five money earners in his profession, (Puck made number one on the list). He's even up for another movie role in the big-budget feature "Pearl Harbor."

But Matsuhisa's got other things on his mind. He is spending three days a month in Japan working on his first cookbook. "I'm 51 years old. What I do takes time, but in meantime it's on the table, people use chopsticks, my art is gone. Every dish is being photographed. It's like all my souvenirs, a chef's life. Fifty-one is the best age, I know the food, I know the fish, everything is a lifetime. I'm not doing this for the money, it's my life."

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