The Trump International Hotel in Washington is back on track to get a second restaurant. Nakazawa, a sibling to the highly regarded Sushi Nakazawa in Manhattan helmed by chef Daisuke Nakazawa, who appeared in the acclaimed documentary "Jiro Dreams of Sushi," will open in the converted Old Post Office Pavilion next summer. Nakazawa signed on with the hotel about a month ago. The announcement follows past upheaval among the hotel's restaurant prospects. Celebrity chefs José Andrés and Geoffrey Zakarian had plans to open ambitious restaurants at the hotel but pulled out of the project in July 2015 after then-presidential candidate Donald Trump called Mexican immigrants rapists and drug dealers. Both restaurateurs are embroiled with Trump in lawsuits. Andrés's aborted Spanish-Japanese restaurant was replaced by BLT Prime, a high-end steakhouse overseen by chef David Burke. The space that was to be Zakarian's restaurant was turned into a conference room. Nakazawa will take over an unoccupied area at the back of the hotel and will have its own entrance.

[José Andrés on Donald Trump's victory: Life will go on, and so will business] With regard to the restaurant's second location, Nakazawa owner Alessandro Borgognone said the current political climate has "nothing to do on how we conduct business." Of Trump, he added, "his political views are not our political views." Several years ago, Borgognone probably would never have imagined he'd be opening a sushi restaurant, let alone one in Washington. It was only after watching "Jiro Dreams of Sushi," in which Daisuke Nakazawa appears as a senior apprentice, that Borgognone cold-contacted the chef, who was living in Seattle at the time, via Facebook and sent him a note with some help from Google Translate. The pair opened Sushi Nakazawa in the West Village in 2013. Borgognone said the D.C. restaurant will be extremely similar to the New York concept. Almost immediately out of the gate, Pete Wells of the New York Times gave the Manhattan restaurant a four-star review, his highest rating. The Post's Tom Sietsema said Sushi Nakazawa "serves the finest omakase in the land."

Sushi Nakazawa's excellent reputation, combined with a limited number of seats — not unlike Jiro Ono's eponymous Tokyo spot — have made getting a reservation for the $150 sushi bar experience (it's $120 in the dining room) notoriously difficult. Unlike Jiro, however, Sushi Nakazawa has yet to receive any Michelin stars, much to the consternation of its fans. [The Trump Hotel restaurant: Gilded touches on yet another steakhouse] The omakase experience, a tasting menu of 21 nigiri courses, will carry over to Washington, Borgognone said. sushi fisch kaufen mannheimSo will the chef, at least for a while: Borgognone expects him to be in Washington a "good majority" of the time. sushi grade fish savannah gaBorgognone, who runs several other restaurants in New York, including his family's Italian spot, Patricia's, and recently revived speak-easy Chumley's, said he was drawn to Washington because "it's growing by the minute," especially the dining scene. sushi at home gomi

Plus, the setting in the Old Post Office Pavilion is, he said, "one of the most beautiful properties in D.C." Correction: An earlier version of this post incorrectly referred to the Washington restaurant as Sushi Nakazawa. The correct name is Nakazawa. This version has been updated. - The search for America's best food cities: New York - Watch Donald Trump answer questions about his campaign and hotel in a video deposition - Donald Trump, José Andrés and the death of a grand Washington restaurant In 2011, Naomichi Yasuda shocked devotees of his lauded midtown stalwart—open since 1999—when he announced that he would be returning to Japan. Fans breathed a sigh of relief when he turned the simple maple counter over to longtime kitchen lieutenants Tatsuya Sekiguchi and Mitsuru Tamura. Reserve a seat at the bar of this bamboo-clad space to watch Tatsu and Mitsu—as they’re affectionately called by regulars—dispatch purist renditions of nigiri onto wooden trays in elegant, efficient movements.

Like the old master, the pair eschew over-the-top combos, letting the primo seafood and their superior knife skills shine. They top rounds of lightly vinegar-moistened rice with beautiful seafood, like a meltingly soft slab of fatty tuna; a milky disk of sweet sea scallop; or baby purple squid brightened with shiso and wasabi. That top-shelf sourcing doesn’t come cheap, and reservations are booked out far in advance, but even without its namesake toque, this storied sushi den is still worth the price of admission: Yasuda would be proud. Last we saw Daisuke Nakazawa, he was toiling over egg custard as the modest apprentice in the film Jiro Dreams of Sushi, humbled by the rigors of an 11-year stint under the world’s most distinguished sushi chef, Jiro Ono. Now, the pupil has emerged as the teacher at this sleek West Village sushi bar. Whereas his master was stoic, Nakazawa is a jokester who places a live squirming shrimp on your plate just for a laugh. But his pranks don’t undercut the seriousness of his nigiri, like pike mackerel, featuring a gentle brininess that gives way to unctuous maritime fat as you chew, and wild yellowtail from Hokkaido, with fatty tails that tantalizingly overhang rice so tenderly packed, it would fall to pieces if you looked at it funny.

At times, delicately flavored creatures like scallops or fluke are outstripped by pungent wasabi or yuzu. But the meal is like a wave, its gentle lulls rendering the crests all the more thrilling. At this glossy downtown spot—opened in 2007 by Marco Moreira (Tocqueville) and his wife, Jo-Ann Makovitzky—Jewel Bako vet Masato Shimizu presides over a nine-seat dark wood bar overlooking an airy high-ceilinged dining room. Shimizu employs first-rate seafood flown in from Japan, deftly molding lightly torched golden-eye snapper or luscious soy-lacquered cherry salmon on beds of loose toothsome grains. Creamy sweet Hokkaido uni, seasoned with a slick of soy sauce, is encased by a crisp nori strip, while fall-apart anago (sea eel) gets a light dip in sweet soy. Whipping out fish anatomy charts and well-worn books to show where the exceptional cuts of smooth, deep-red tuna come from, Shimizu schools novices and aficionados alike. Superlative nigiri with a side of education? We’ll happily sign up for instruction.

At this 20-seat sushi counter from rock-star chefs Jimmy Lau and Nick Kim—formerly of Neta—a cool $135 prompts an omakase (chef's selection) of exceptionally made edomaezushi served in its purest form, each lightly lacquered with soy and nestled atop a slip of warm, loosely packed rice. Luscious, marbled toro, a usually late-in-the-game cut affectionately known as the kobe beef of the sea, boldly arrives first, even before sweet Spanish mackerel with barely there shreds of young ginger or sea bream dabbed with plummy ume shiso. The cocksure shuffling, though initially jarring, is a kick hiccup to your usual omakase beat, a winking reminder that, even with the price hike, Lau and Kim haven’t completely shed their subtle sushi-dogma subversions. The restaurant, a collaboration with Osaka’s Tsuji Cooking Academy, brings kaiseki cuisine—the intricate, formal multicourse meals at the pinnacle of haute Japanese cooking—into a surprisingly relaxed and accessible setting.

The dishes, gorgeously plated on handmade Japanese stoneware, flow like parts of a symphony, from muted petals of raw kombu-wrapped sea bass one night to a rich and restorative black truffle custard, with crab underneath and sweet mirin on top. A feast here builds toward a subtle climax, asparagus tips with pristine lobes of uni leading to silky black cod with watercress sauce and crumbled pistachios. Beautiful pink slivered duck breast with smoky charred eggplant yields to earthy stewed pork cheeks (an inspired swap for ubiquitous belly) with cider reduction and green apple puree. “Trust me” isn’t exactly what you want to hear when you’re about to nosedive into the oft-sketchy world of raw fish (the tainted-tuna tour of 2012 hit a whopping 26 states), but it’s the well-earned M.O. of this UES sushi nook, opened in 2006. And trust you should—owner-chef Kenji Takahashi rolls out a no-nonsense, at-whim menu of top-tier seafood to rival more highfalutin Japanese dens, without the sucker-punch price.

Walk through an unassuming storefront—marked with naysaying signs warning NO CALIFORNIA ROLL, NO SPICY TUNA—and score seats at the tight-squeeze bamboo counter. There, Takahashi speedily transforms daily market finds into raw marvels: a mosaic of lardy albacore slicked with tart ponzu sake sauce; creamy Scottish salmon hooded with satiny kelp and a nutty pinch of sesame seeds on top of still-warm rice; and a bright ikura (salmon roe) roll, briny pearls popping loudly inside a crisp nori wrap. The spartan decor is definitely wanting, and servers bellowing “No soy sauce!” is the closest you’ll get to mood music, but for dreamy slips of pristine nigiri, in Takahashi we trust. If there’s a jollier sushi chef in New York, we don’t know who it is—Toshihiro Uezu’s friendly mug has been welcoming raw-fish cognoscenti and rookies alike at this venerable toro temple since 1977, a gaiety that belies the seriousness of his skill. Perched on the second floor of a dingy midtown building, Uezu’s 12-person sushi bar turns out jaw-dropping nigiri in its purest, most traditional form, delivered from his hands to yours: glistening slabs of kanpachi belly, shiny silver skin still intact;

buttery otoro melting moments after hitting the tongue; and fluke so fresh you can see through it. This is no-bells-and-whistles sushi—the most adornment Uezu employs is a dash of ponzu or scallion curls, instead focusing attention on the überhigh quality of the seafood, the masterfully tempered rice and the fresh wasabi (more delicate and subtle than the sinus-searing powdered junk, typically just food-colored horseradish). Uezu may just prove your stubborn grandfather right—maybe old-school is the right way. Where do big-league toques like Eric Ripert and Daniel Boulud go to sate their late-night fish cravings? Chef Seki’s cultish sushi gem has served as a sake-fueled second-dinner spot for after-hours chefs and clued-in locals since opening in 2002, plying nonpurist flavor combos until 3am. For five years, Seki trained under Sushi of Gari’s whimsical head, Masatoshi “Gari” Sugio, and the influence is reflected in the inventive menu: Creamsicle-hued salmon topped with scallion sauce and a crispy fried kelp shard;

bluefin tuna dotted with oniony tofu crème fraîche; and young yellowtail crowned with slivered jalapeño, a Gari signature. The late hours lend a boozy, jovial atmosphere—maître d’ Koji Ohneda bustles between the sushi counter in front and the rowdier dining room in back, pouring sake into quickly emptied cups, but don’t drink too much—you’ll want to remember Seki’s artful, picture-perfect offerings with more than just Instagram’s help. A transcendent bite of top-grade toro is priceless. But at Masa, that melt-in-your-mouth morsel comes at a cost—a whole meal is a cool $450 before tax, tip and sake, to be exact. Masa Takayama’s extravagant raw-fish emporium has been a once-in-a-lifetime destination for sushi devotees since it opened on the fourth floor of the Time Warner Center in 2004. Parked next to the equally ritzy Per Se, Masa represents all-out indulgence: At the bar—made of a $60,000 piece of rare Japanese hinoki wood—Takayama and his acolytes lavishly press shaved truffles into lightly warmed rice beds, before topping them with kingly sea bream;

sumptuously enrich risotto with uni and truffle butter; and fill their shabu-shabu pots with slabs of foie gras and fresh lobster. It’s a luxury that few but deep-pocketed whales can afford, but Takayama’s three-Michelin-starred gem is cross-off-your-bucket-list dining at its finest. Masatoshi “Gari” Sugio made waves when he debuted this minichain in 1997, becoming a New York pioneer in avant-garde pairings, such as jalapeño-topped yellowtail and Japanese red snapper with wilted greens, pine nuts and crispy lotus root. Sugio’s fanciful creations continue to draw thrill-seeking Japanophiles to his tony Upper East Side flagship, where they shell out a hefty sum for a pay-per-piece spot at the L-shaped bar. Tiny beds of slightly tart rice come out in quick succession: pepper-oil–slicked tuna tempered by a creamy dollop of tofu sauce; silky truffle-oil–dotted fluke boosted by a quivering poached quail egg; and rich Spanish mackerel offset by earthy enoki and shiitake mushrooms.