Rise of the Sushi Nazi

mexicali

SugarFish and the mid-range sushi revolution

By Noah Galuten

Ask Kazunori Nozawa what’s in the chef’s choice menu and he’ll point to a sign reading: “Today’s Special: Trust Me”

Only in Los Angeles will you find people willing to pay hundreds of dollars to eat raw fish in a strip mall. At its best, sushi (being used here as a blanket term) can be a revelatory experience—an invigorating example of nature, coaxed by man into the best version of itself. More commonly, it’s a gummy wad of cold starch wrapped around flaccid seaweed and stuffed full of graying, chopped tuna.
Sure, there are spots between these extremes. If you’re looking for satisfaction but not amazement, you can try your luck at any number of mid-range Little Tokyo sushi joints, fifteen-dollar all-you-can-eat early bird specials, or chain restaurants pushing bland (though medically safe) lunch combos. Times used to be that was all there was out there, but now there’s a newcomer in the mid-range market; a newcomer who might change the way Los Angeles eats sushi.

His name is Kazunori Nozawa, though he is commonly referred to by the well-earned appellation of “Sushi Nazi.” Nozawa runs his own namesake restaurant in Studio City, located in one of those aforementioned strip malls. He is a fierce traditionalist, famously kicking patrons out of his restaurant for being rude, or talking on their phones. He doesn’t care if you’re an A-list celebrity or an old woman off the street; you’re going to eat the food he wants to make, the way he wants to make it. No spicy tuna rolls. No California rolls. Ask him what’s in the chef’s choice menu? He’ll simply point to a sign reading: TODAY’S SPECIAL: TRUST ME.

But while Nozawa asks you to pay top dollar for high quality ingredients, his chain of SugarFish restaurants (currently found in Brentwood, Marina del Rey and Downtown) do not. There is no sushi bar in the Downtown incarnation of SugarFish. Its chefs are hidden behind closed doors, visible only thorough a narrow window on one side of the restaurant. The menu itself is sparse. It is mainly driven by the three set menu options listed at the top: “Trust Me,” “Trust Me/Lite,” and “The Nozawa.” Each one includes edamame, a bowl of marinated tuna sashimi, a few pieces of sushi and a hand roll or two. Of course, the more expensive the set menu, the more fish you get.

But other than a few fish specials here and there, the menu does not change. Last month’s “Trust Me” is the same as today’s. And beyond the chef’s tasting menus, there isn’t much on which to prey, unless you have a strong desire to order a la carte. There are no salads, no fusion rolls and no scoops of green tea ice cream (all dessert requests should be directed to Bottega Louie, across the street). SugarFish is there to do one thing: pump out near-identical orders of tender, fresh sushi, day after day after day.

That’s not to say that the restaurant is entirely soulless. The interior is modern/mid-century modern, with exposed concrete columns pushing through the floating white drop ceiling and subtle, aquatically themed design elements. The servers properly convey the casual atmosphere, whether during dinner or lunch, while guiding guests through the menu with a good bit more patience than we imagine Nozawa himself might deign to express. But the rice is warm (the way Nozawa likes it), the fish is fresh and well prepared, and you can be in and out without having to put any extra coins into the one-hour parking meters located just outside.

The “Trust Me” specials are priced at $19.50 for light, $28.50 for regular and $35-$38 for “The Nozawa.” (Lunch prices are a few bucks cheaper.) Based purely on the fish and rice, and especially when it’s compared against the quality of similarly priced sushi bars, SugarFish is a very good deal.

And yet, eating at SugarFish is a lot like having sex with a really dumb, hot lover. The meat is firm, and fresh, but ultimately, it is no way to achieve real happiness. Once the final bite is consumed, that adrenaline quickly dissolves into emptiness. All of a sudden, I’m pining for something with a little more substance. I have no personal connection to this flesh, no relationship with what’s really behind it. I miss, in the end, watching the guy behind the counter. Without that level of human involvement, it’s just a plate of sushi.

 

SugarFish Downtown Los Angeles is located at 600 West 7th Street (corner of 7th and South Grand). It is open Monday through Saturday from 11:30 a.m. through 10:00 p.m. and from 12:00 p.m. through 9:00 p.m. on Sundays. Contact the restaurant at (213) 627 3000. SugarFish does not take reservations.


ADVERTISEMENT