For better or worse, I’ve become known to my friends as the “fish girl”. Friends email me whenever a great new fish restaurant opens up or when an article about salmon appears in the news. So it came as no surprise that my inbox was buzzing with word about this new fish film, Jiro Dreams of Sushi. A good friend popped a dvd screener in the mail to me and I sat down to watch it (unwisely) as I was at the 24 hour mark of a fast. While watching this film when hungry is a form of cruel and unusual punishment, fortunately it’s as satisfying for the heart and mind as it is a feast for the eyes.I lived in Japan in 1999 and passed through Ginza station about a hundred times. I knew the shortcuts, where to stand on the track and how to make my commute connections. I was teaching English that year in Tokyo and while I made decent money, I wasn’t consulting the Michelin Guide for suggestions on where to eat. Had I flipped through it, I might have known that one of the world’s greatest sushi chefs ran a 10-seat sushi bar located in the bowels of Ginza station.

During my year in Tokyo I noticed how Japanese take incredible pride in their job. Unlike in the US, people are not defined by their jobs, but rather– they strive to add definition to their jobs. I found this to be true of everyone– the executives I taught English to, retail salespeople, janitors, even the “elevator girls” (women who pressed buttons in elevators all day). permainan memasak sushi online gratisTheir attitude is “I’m going to take pride in what I do and do it to the best of my ability”. sushi soy paper carbsAnd as a result, hands-down Japan has the best elevator girls in the world.buy yo sushi franchiseJiro is no stranger to this philosophy. jiro dreams of sushi legendado pt

He is a devoted craftsman who strives to do his job better today than he did it yesterday. And fortunately for us, he chose sushi cheffing over the janitorial sciences. To Jiro, being the best sushi chef doesn’t mean having the best location, celebrity clientele or award-winning reputation. sushi online bestellen wuppertalHaving those things only deepens his obligation to be the best at what he does. how to eat sushi morimotoSure, buying the best fish or rice requires talent, but after a little training, anyone can do it. jiro dreams of sushi documentaryJiro’s remarkable talent is in the details. He honors the integrity of every grain of rice with a heavy handed dose of vinegar. He won’t serve fish that doesn’t meet his standards and slices fish that does within millimeters of perfection.

He tailors the size of sushi he makes for customers based on their mouth size (slightly smaller for women) and orients the fish on the platter differently for right and left-handed diners. Watching his hands dance while making sushi is like watching an ancient shadow puppet show as he gently taps, turns and twists the nigiri in his hands.Though the artistry of sushi-making is featured, this film is about much more than beautiful “food porn” images of sushi. It’s a story of family and devotion that explores Jiro’s role as father, master and role model. The filmmaker captures Jiro at the age of 85 with two sons and a handful of young apprentices working at his three-star Michelin award restaurants in Tokyo. One can’t help but wonder what will happen when “the inevitable” happens, but as Jiro shares with us in the film, 95% of the preparation happens before a piece of sushi is crafted. Having one son at the helm of his Roppongi Hills location and his eldest by his side in Ginza, Jiro has ensured the necessary preparations have been made for his sons to continue his legacy.

Official Jiro Dreams of Sushi website 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.