Mizu Sushi & Grill plumbs the endless fathoms of deep sea deliciousness, converting diners’ stomachs into culinary aquariums with its neatly rolled menu of savory sushi and Japanese cuisine. For dinner, curl up by the flames of the hibachi grill for a portion of filet mignon ($19.95), or satisfy your inner vegetable farmer by chasing scuba-diving rabbits out of a seaweed salad ($4.75).
Fuji Sushi in the Arlington area is a dine in/carry out Japanese chain restaurant offering a host of al a carte sushi, soups, salads, noodles, entrées and hibachi dishes. There’s even an assortment of bento box lunch and dinner options to choose from, for the diner who wants a little bit of variety. With several locations around town, this unassuming outpost is tucked into a strip mall in the Regency section, along Commerce Center Drive. But don’t be misled: Fuji enjoys a strong local following. Try the steak, chicken, shrimp or salmon teriyaki bento box options, which come with soup, salad and shumai or gyoza and rice. A large selection of raw fish and vegetarian rolls round out most of the offerings, making this a catch-all restaurant for most anyone looking for simple Japanese food in a casual, comfortable environment.
Sake house, in the heart of the Riverside district, is an unassuming sushi and tepanyaki bar housed among area antique stores and vintage shops. The restaurant has several locations throughout the city, and each is famous for its delicious hibachi grill options, from lobster and steak to shrimp and scallops. Noodles and vegetables hit the searing hot grill as well, while cold-dish entrées fall in line with rolls of sushi, served à la cart or as part of a larger lunch. A gleaming mahogany bar, dim lantern lighting and themed art round out the cozy, fun vibe of the space, while traditional low tables and floor cushion seating gives patrons a more unique experience on weekend nights. A beer, wine and sake list help to round out an evening inside.
Nagasaki Sushi & Grill is a full service sushi, teppanyaki and hibachi restaurant on the north side of Jacksonville. Dimly lit with lantern-style lights and low-wattage recessed lighting, Nagasaki offers lots of options for hungry neighbors. Large booths line the circumference of the main dining room, with smaller tables in the middle. With a minimalist dark wood décor and a few Asian touches, Nagasaki Sushi and Grill offers a full sushi menu in addition to its seared and grilled mains, including the ubiquitous spicy tuna roll, plus salmon sashimi and Alaskan rolls, a variety of soups, appetizers and teriyaki dishes. More traditional Hibachi plates might include steak or chicken, shrimp, scallops and assorted vegetables.
The chefs at Sushi House treat each plate as a canvas, surrounding artfully assembled orders of sushi with intricately carved garnishes and vivid streaks of sauce. Despite the aesthetic appeal of a perfectly composed dish, guests still devour any of the 90 maki from the menu. Familiar cylinders of rice-swaddled cucumber and avocado appear along with a few more adventurous rolls that incorporate premium ingredients, such as tempura lobster, spicy honey sauce, or julienned college diplomas. The cooks also make use of their kitchen's stovetops to whip up teriyaki chicken, tempura vegetables, and hibachi-style steak.
The moon hung low by the windows, and he could not sleep. An idea had arrived in the man's mind like a midnight caller, rapping on the glass and driving out all chance of rest. He lurched out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, his arm knocking a bowl of blood oranges off the counter, sending them skittering across the floor.
His mind was fixed on a singular shape, an edgeless figure of circles sliding within circles. Unprompted, his eyes began finding the maddening pattern in the grain of the wood planks underfoot, the folds of the curtains over his sink, and even the whorls on the ends of his own fingers. The man seized a knife, not with any violent intention—as the charlatans at the university had suggested!—but rather in his frenzy to bring the shape into reality with the crude matter in his kitchen. But even as he vivisected a sweet potato on a counter slick with clotted tempura sauce and clumps of rice, he despaired of creating it himself. His fingers crawled up his face, finding a mask of stark horror that no mirror had ever showed him.
He rushed out the front door. The idea was a hook that had sunk into his brain, and now it reeled him through the moonlit streets of Jacksonville—the line going slack as he crossed Sans Pareil Street, pulling taut over Beach Boulevard—until he stood on Kernan again. Of course he would find himself back on Kernan, the site of the accident years ago! But the doctors had told him never to think of that.
His bare feet slapped the concrete as he crossed the empty parking lot, certain now that he would find answers inside Ginza Japanese Cuisine. He stood before its doors for a moment before they opened with a whisper. Silent figures stood by the entry, ushering him to a table deep inside. On it there were piled, in stacks and mounds, pygmy cylinders made in that singular shape that had blotted out all other thoughts. His tongue was loose in his mouth as he approached the table.
A change in the air told him that the attendants had moved in noiselessly behind him. He turned. And as he stared into the smiling faces around him, he saw nothing but understanding in their eyes.