I should have known. Mixed-nationality restaurants rarely have good sushi. However, Lock likes their katsu, so I figured it was worth a try.
I got the first inkling something was wrong when I asked the waiter what was on the sashimi plate. He looked at me blankly and after a long pause said, ""Uh, salmon. Uhhhh...sake? Uhhhh..."" Okay, strike one. So I try to order. ""Tako nigiri."" Blank look. ""Tako? Octopus? Nigiri."" At this point I'm speaking very slowly and enunciating every syllable. He nods. ""Hamachi nigiri. Sashimi plate. Chicken katsu for the boyfriend."" Okay, now we're getting somewhere.
He comes back down and plunks a green salad slathered in unidentifiable dressing and a bowl of what he claims is miso soup in front of Lock. Nothing for me. Right. So I watch him eat. About two bites and the salad gets put to the side. Okay, the miso? It's full of huge sheets of seaweed and some tofu, but is the wrong color and doesn't even smell right. It also goes to the side.
At this point my sashimi arrives. Instead of being cut into reasonable-sized pieces it was slabs of maguro, sake, and what might have been hirame. The sake was Atlantic and had been frozen at some point because it had that slimy feel that it gets when it thaws.
I almost quit right there. My nigiri arrived. I, the eternal optimist, picked up a piece of tako, popped it into my mouth, bit down...and had to restrain myself from spitting the whole thing back into my plate. The tako was bad. Octopus should be quite firm, highly textured,lightly chewy, and very faintly salty. This was none of those things. It was floppy, slimy, and EXTREMELY fishy. And to top it all off oyster sauce and an inordinate amount of wasabi had been used to try to mask it. Against my better judgment I swallowed it, but I sent the rest of the plate back uneaten, and felt extremely ill for the rest of the night and into the next morning.
My advice: stay away.