Once all the sushi is served, one of Jiro's apprentices moved me to a side table and serves me a slice of the juiciest honeydew melon I've ever consumed, along with a cup of tea. It's a nice reflection time at the end of the meal - a meal that has finished in about 25 minutes. Jiro literally has been handing me a piece of sushi as soon as I swallowed the previous piece.

At the end, I ask if I could take a picture with the master and his son. Jiro washes his hands, steps out from behind his altar of fish and, with a spring in his step, meets me outside the restaurant. We pose for a quick photo, and the master bows and returns to his post.

While Jiro was stoic and reserved, his son Yoshikazu was much friendlier, readily shaking my unworthy hand. It's a picture that I'll spam across social media for the rest of my life.

Like it says in the Michelin guide, a three-star restaurant is worth traveling for, and Jiro's definitely lives up to the hype. I can still hear the music, playing in my head as I gingerly consumed each and every piece of sushi laid before me. It can be said that Jiro still dreams of making sushi even better, dreaming up stuff that no one can yet imagine. Feasting on the product of that spirit is worth a trip to Japan alone.