Oh boy, this is a tough one. Let’s start with the positives. It’s a cozy little spot on the Lower East Side, and chef Daly is turning out amazingly good sushi. Each piece is spot on delicious. And it’s fascinating too, because he offers things like a series of an individual fish, from different parts of the fish, so that you can actually taste the difference, or, uni (sea urchin) from different parts of the world, one after the other. And once you’re seated at his counter and started, you’re in his world, and, he’s amiable, even chatty. If that was all there was, this would be a five star plus experience.

But, that’s not all that dining out is about. Until you actually have a seat at the ten seat sushi bar, you’re a non-entity. You’re less than that. I don’t mind being told not to take photos, I don’t mind the no cellphone policy, I don’t mind that it’s a “eat it the way I give it to you, no soy sauce, no, whatever…”. I do mind that when I shifted something on my place setting slightly, he lunged across the counter, moved it back, and snapped at me “don’t move that!”. I do mind, watching as he had the waiters tell a walk-in couple to come back in an hour, and when they did, had them tell them to wait a few minutes, and then after another half hour went by, had the waiters close and lock the door and tell them “next time, make a reservation”, and then having his regulars at the sushi bar cheering him for it. That’s just rude, inhospitable, and honestly, enough that no matter how good the sushi is, I wouldn’t set foot in the place again.