Main Course: The Nozawa Way, Sugarfish's Streamlined Sushi Excellence

All I knew of Sugarfish before the Corona del Mar branch opened last January was that its predecessor by Chef Kazunori Nozawa was a Studio City sushi hot spot for celebs and paparazzi during the Reagan administration. Sure, it’s grown to 16 bicoastal locations, but none were nearby until now.

Knowing reservations aren’t accepted and hour-long waits are common, my first visit was a Tuesday daylight dinner. Happily amazed to be seated immediately, other surprises followed. The no-frills venue is ultra compact, so of course it filled to capacity within minutes. This is the first sushi specialist I’ve reported on that has no sushi bar. In fact, no sushi chefs interact with diners—they’re sequestered in the kitchen churning out precise nigiri and unfussy hand rolls at a feverish pace. Designed for heavy usage and maximum turnover, the 40-seat setting is spare, bordering on utilitarian.

This no-nonsense approach to sushi spotlights the star of the show: pristine fish and flawless vinegar rice in absolute balance, elegant in its simplicity. It’s the Nozawa way, yet utterly reproducible as a brand, complete with a motto: “Don’t think, just eat.” The message underscores the simple menu of four signature Trust Me feasts—seven- to 10-course omakase meals from a big-bigger-biggest selection. All start with cold edamame and a shallow dish of tuna sashimi in thin, small pieces. Alas, the bits are awash in ponzu that dominates every bite—a surprising start to a menu that only gets better from there. Two pieces each of albacore and salmon follow—the buttery salmon graced with toasted sesame seeds, the albacore painted ever so lightly with ponzu. This is when Nozawa’s famed warm rice first appears—soft, fluffy, and loosely packed.

The meticulous rice-to-fish ratio ensures the rich salmon’s flavor shines, the mild albacore’s firm texture soars. Translucent New Zealand sea bream’s flavor is so delicate, the kitchen adds only a whisper of citrus salt. All omakase lineups include an understated toro hand roll in crisp nori, a welcome pause in the procession of nigiri. Next up are nigiri pairs of faintly sweet Japanese yellowtail, subtle hirame (flounder), and luxurious bluefin otoro (belly). Most omakase meals end with a lovely fresh blue-and-Dungeness-crab hand roll in toasty seaweed that melts in your mouth on arrival. Reviews by fans often cite this course as their favorite.

Service is brisk, matching the snappy pace the menu suggests for eating, i.e., consume all items promptly, while at peak freshness. Staffers deliver and clear plates in quick succession, barely pausing for interaction. Tables and banquettes are Tetris-tight, so expect your conversation to be semi-private at best. It’s an upbeat, high-energy scene with noise levels to match.

Few decisions are required at Sugarfish, and few special requests are honored. Three beer choices are variations of Sapporo; three white wines are from California vintners; all four sakes are imports, two of them private labeled for Nozawa. Control freaks might feel powerless in this framework, while fresh fish fanatics will delight in this streamlined path to excellence by the bite. Attractive prices only add to the allure here—my tab totals were no higher than what I pay at my favorite coastal sushi haunts.

You can veer away from the omakase model by choosing items a la carte. And always check the day’s specials, starring fish limited by season or availability. A dozen or so offerings might include a toro tasting, pink lobster from New Zealand, or Vancouver sweet shrimp with lemon and yuzu kosho.

I admit to being caught off guard by Sugarfish’s narrow focus and lean setting—though the brand’s dedication to ethical sourcing and reverence for quality is impressive. It echoes the mindset of Uniqlo, a colossally popular Japanese clothing brand worshiped for high quality, The modern dining room few frills, and fair prices. Swarms of locals vying for seats this summer confirm Nozawa’s sushi vision endures both time and place—making Sugarfish a bona fide SoCal classic.