Wagyu Factory

Chubby Group knows how to deliver premium all-you-can-eat experiences centered on Japanese wagyu beef. We know this from visiting Chubby Cattle BBQ, the Las Vegas-based hospitality company’s luxurious AYCE wagyu chain with multiple Los Angeles locations, now only months away from opening in Orange County. But we wouldn’t have cared if our first Chubby experience was at Wagyu Factory, the company’s first OC concept, which opened at The District at Tustin Legacy in summer 2025.

On the Wagyu Factory website, the Tustin location is listed as Wagyu Factory Shabu, while a Lake Forest version is Wagyu Factory BBQ – a hint that these brands are meant to parallel the company’s higher-end Mikiya shabu shabu and Chubby Cattle BBQ restaurants, each planned for Irvine openings around fall 2025. However, the operative word here is “parallel,” not “equal,” as Wagyu Factory delivers a comparatively sub-par, faux-Japanese experience for roughly the same price as a good AYCE Korean BBQ or shabu meal.

At $40 for weekday lunch, $47 for weekday dinner, or $50 for any weekend meal, you’re given self-service access to a somewhat underwhelming array of raw beef and pork slices, cooked mini steaks, and individual sushi pieces, as well as a handful of fried appetizers, basic desserts, soda fountain drinks, and slushes. We say “somewhat underwhelming” for two reasons: First, the Factory’s all-you-can-eat beef is touted as wagyu – genetically similar to but substantially cheaper and less deluxe than Japan’s famous Kobe beef – yet shows only limited signs of the unique marbling commonly associated with Japanese breeds. Second, you get access to six comparatively low-end raw cuts of this beef (plus one type of pork) for those AYCE prices, then need to pay by the plate for more marbled (“A5”) cuts.

Raw or cooked, Wagyu Factory’s meat isn’t much to write home about: To paraphrase John Mulaney, it’s what people unfamiliar with authentic Japanese dining might imagine that experience would be like. Wagyu sushi is served medium-rare-ish, lean, and smothered in wasabi cream from a buffet basket; short rib-like chops are soy-teriyaki glazed and forgettable; a tablet-ordered individual wagyu skillet takes 20 minutes to arrive laughably small and as clearly overcooked as its two tiny pieces of accompanying broccoli. In sum, we’ve had much better beef – wagyu and otherwise – at less expensive buffets.

In our view, the best way to enjoy Wagyu Factory’s meats is shabu shabu-style: Pick up the chilled slices and dunk them in your choice of six broths, or more specifically one broth per person, no extras. To try something different, we ordered the Thai tom yum-style broth and enjoyed its mix of lime, galangal, and spices, but thought the single-broth limitation was sort of silly given Wagyu Factory’s premium price points. Two tonkotsu pork broths, two tomato broths, and a Hokkaido seafood broth are also available.

Non-wagyu items reflect the restaurant’s otherwise less than premium options. Wan chicken wings and sliced hot dogs sat on metal trays beneath heat lamps, next to steamers holding overcooked but at least interesting-looking kimchi and seafood dumplings, and containers of cooked salmon and eel sushi. More heat lamps illuminated skewers of fatty Chinese-style beef, pork, and lamb, which were pleasantly spiced with Sichuan peppercorns but not particularly high-end.

Fried choices listed on the table’s tablet included gyoza and takoyaki balls, the latter delivered well after initial ordering with an uncharacteristic deep-fried crispy exterior, molten interior, and none of the octopus balls’ typical bonito flakes, scallions, or seaweed; we didn’t continue ordering from the kitchen because of the low quality and long wait. Our only regret was missing the chance to try Wagyu Factory’s Japanese-style curry, which can be ladled onto rice dispensed by a machine near the entrance. Due to its unusual location next to guests waiting to be seated, we only noticed it when we were nearly ready to leave.