The one with plenty of seating.
The one that takes reservations.
The one where native Japanese speakers sit elbow-to-elbow with pre-theater diners ordering California rolls.
The one that is on a random street in a seemingly so-so atmosphere – rather suburban and tired.
The one that has a small cult following on Chowhound.
The one that has incredible uni – clean and creamy, from Santa Barbara.
The one that has an omakase, with 12 pieces and a cut roll of rich, buttery toro, for just $45.
The one where you should avoid the fishy, oddly crunchy herring, but to everything else, say “Yes, please.”
The one where the seared scallop is so undeniably sweet, so mouth-meltingly tender, that it would be at home at Nakazawa.
The place where I am scared to tell you the name. I don’t want this place to blow up and become ridiculously crowded and expensive. It isn’t 15 East, but it’s SO FAR ABOVE PAR, with excellent rice and truly fresh, well cut fish.
Want the name?
Give me an email and I’ll give up the goods.
And when I tell you the name…ssshhh…mum’s the word.