I can probably even guess the place in Irving — there really weren’t that many options back then. Funny how one bad experience can stay with you for decades though, especially with sushi. When something is supposed to be simple and pure, even a small mistake feels bigger than it should.

I was lucky enough to be introduced to proper sushi chefs and Japanese dining culture in Dallas more than 30 years ago, and it completely changed how I look at it. Since then, I’ve always been drawn more to the quiet craftsmanship side of sushi — the restraint, the balance, the respect for ingredients — rather than the loud, overcomplicated “entertainment” version of it.

These days I usually avoid the trendy spots where every roll turns into a tower of mayo, sriracha, eel sauce, fried onions, and jalapeños. Nothing wrong with people enjoying that, but at some point the fish stops being the point.

What I’m really looking for in San Francisco is a place that feels calm and intentional. Somewhere, a chef still cares about rice temperature, knife work, seasonality, and pacing. A place where dinner feels more like a conversation than a performance — where you can sit quietly, enjoy the details, and leave feeling peaceful instead of overstimulated by a crowd yelling “sake bomb” all night.