A week ago I was dining with my son at our favorite restaurant in the West Village, a place we've eaten at many times before. We do that, my son and I, find a restaurant we like until we're sick of it, then move on to something new. I'm thinking of Frying Fish in Los Angeles, or "flying fish," depending on how fast the conveyor belt delivers.
Frying Fish is a sushi fast food joint in Little Tokyo, a place so cheap you can pile plates of food in front of you and still walk out paying under 40 dollars. You sit at a counter as a conveyor belt goes round and round, with sushi, sashimi, tofu, and seaweed passing by. The fish can be really fresh or yesterday's leftovers (Do NOT eat the yellow tail!). But it's consistently good enough that you'll find LA Times journalists there, Moca and Japanese American National Museum staff, tourists, office workers and mothers like me, who go there to introduce their kids to the finer points of dining on raw fish. My son and I grew tired of Frying Fish just about the time he went off to college five years ago, but the few times I've been back, Alice, the waitress, is always excited to see me and asks about my son.
Frying Fish Restaurant
120 Japanese Village Plz Mall
Los Angeles, CA 90012-3909 (213) 680-0567
spider roll never again..it saddens me...i remember how the waitress would take car of me when I was pregnant with Leila telling me not to stuff myself with raw ginger...what a heck...i love raw ginger..but how in the world it could harm by baby I never understood, but i trusted she knew better than me!
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