Sugarfish As with many other habits, it can be expensive to pursue good sushi. The extreme end of the spectrum includes airfare to Tokyo as well as bribes to concierges at hotels. Even for New Yorkers, sushi-related news is expensive and increasing.
Sushi nuts
Sushi nuts with good finances have had the $145 omakase already and were served by the deeply courtly Kosaka employees on both sides. I tried Sushi Zo’s $200 omakase, which was almost indistinct under the very long and very soft ribbons of fish. Ichimura’s $300 sonata consisted of fish that has been cured and seasoned in an emphatic style that dates back to the days before refrigeration. I handed $400 to Sushi Ginza Onodera and to nigiri
sushi lovers whose bank accounts do not have the ability to self-replenish
This can be depressing for sushi lovers whose bank accounts do not have the ability to self-replenish. Consider the novice sushi fan who is now realizing that there are other pleasures than just eating tuna rolls from Duane Reade. What’s next?
Sushi Nozawa’s Sugarfish would love to know the answer. Although it’s not true, enough people believe or want it to be so getting into this four-month-old East 20th Street restaurant can be a challenge of patience.
Sugarfish came to town with a strong pedigree. The chain has many branches in Los Angeles. Kazunori Nozawa was one of the founders. He introduced a strict, autocratic style to the city. He was a specialist in omakase and was known for shouting at anyone who tried to add wasabi to their soy sauce.
Sugarfish didn’t yell at me
Sugarfish didn’t yell at me. However, the staff wasn’t eager to feed me. One weeknight, I attacked the host stand at 6:30. The place does not accept reservations. I was the only one there and was willing to wait, even if it meant that I would have to wait until closing — 11 at night. It was amazing to see how optimistic I was those days. A host declared, “We’re not taking any more names tonight.”
Later on, I learned that raids should be held between 2 and 4. This is when I don’t crave raw fish. One day I was able to get in and out within 30 minutes, just before sunset.
Sushi can be ordered by the piece
Although sushi can be ordered by the piece, the server and printed menu strongly promote the three “Trust Me” meals. This is a variation on omakase which roughly means “I trust my chef”, but Trust Me is not an omakase dinner. It’s essentially a set menu that is served in waves.
Each course starts with chilled edamame, and slices of tuna with ponzu then moves on to a few small courses of sushi and a hand roll. Trust Me Lite is the simplest and costs $27. It includes four pieces of nigiri.
The Nozawa Trust
The Nozawa Trust Me is the most expensive, at $51. It comes with 12 pieces of sushi and two hand rolls.
Every course is viewed through a glass in the kitchen, where sushi is made at an unusually fast pace. Sugarfish’s efficiency allows them to keep the prices low, the volume high, and the rice warm — something Jonathan Gold called the School of Nozawa.
Rice is warm. The rice is seasoned with vinegar so that it almost looks pickled. It is a deliciously energetic food that stands out from all the rest.
Fish is beautiful and soft
Although the fish is beautiful and soft, it doesn’t taste like fish. Both sweet shrimp and sea scallops tasted exactly the same as they should. However, the tuna was not hefty and the salmon was not deep. Anyone who likes shiny-skinned fishy-tasting species such as mackerel and sardines is wrong.
Website and menu make up much of Mr. Nozawa’s connections with elite fishmongers. However, the selection at Sugarfish is rarely above entry level. There are specials that are “when available” on the menu. The sea urchin was one of them. I didn’t see any other. This is the only New York sushi restaurant that cannot get sea urchins.
Sugarfish may charge too much for fresh wasabi
Sugarfish may charge too much for fresh wasabi, but the fish has no wasabi. This is a strange thing. Wasabi is more than a condiment when it comes to sushi. It’s the air between the tires. Sugarfish allows you to apply your own using concentric bloops that taste like watery horseradish, and look like the green version of the “poop emoji” without the smile.
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