What goes around comes around – and quite literally in the case of conveyor belt sushi. Conveyor belt or “rotating” sushi is where “Top Chef” meets “The Jetsons,” where food is delivered “robotically” to your table and these days even the washing-up (you pop your used dishes into a table-side slot and – hey presto, they disappear to be cleaned) is fully mechanized. Found throughout Japan where it was developed in the late 1950s and long popular in Europe, operators now have their sights set on the United States.
One such, Kura Revolving Sushi Bar, huge in Japan, is already well-established here, in 63 locations across 18 states, with eight coming soon. With three outlets each in New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts, Kura has now finally reached Westchester County, where the just-opened Greenburgh branch is a blast.
At 8:30 p.m. on a recent Monday, a notoriously quiet time – in fact, a “non-time” for restaurants in our area – I checked in on the iPad outside the restaurant door as instructed and joined a line of 17 people, including several young children, waiting to be seated.
Feeling excited and mildly smug when my name was at last called, I was escorted by the host to a booth near the back of the restaurant – under bright lights and “Dragon Ball Z” artwork, as Kura has a collaboration with the anime series – with well-rehearsed cries of irrashamasei (“welcome”) from staff as I went.
Wedged into my booth, I took a deep breath (or tried to) and took in the ”concept.” That was to say, the conveyor belt with small plates running at my left side and the tablet for ordering additional items fixed high above it at an awkward angle, so that whenever I swiveled to the left to place an order I got a crick in my neck. Soy sauce, gari (pickled ginger) and slightly scrappy wasabi were provided on the table.
The menu, viewable on the tablet, divides in to four basic sections – sushi, sides, soups and desserts, and this greedy writer was only too happy to sample some of each. There was an unctuous tonkotsu ramen with lip-smackingly slithery noodles; light and golden tempura; tangy seared beef with yakiniku (sweet and savory) sauce; and spicy crunchy salmon in soy paper handroll. A slender triangle of New York cheesecake – a concession to “local” you could say – hit all the right notes.
But it was in the sushi plates where Kura, at least to my mind, most impressed – snow crab that could’ve been lifted from the Sea of Japan only moments earlier; Spanish mackerel packing a superb umami punch; a rich and creamy Hokkaido scallop that would not have disgraced itself at a stand in the Tokyo Tsujiki fish market. Plus, there was superb sushi rice, just warm and a touch moist. The only duff dish was the ikura (sea urchin), the roes a little flabby and overwhelmed by the slightly bitter cucumber wrapped in the rice.
Most of these items can be lifted directly from the conveyor running alongside your elbow, or you can order via the tablet. (That’s the way you order drinks and hot dishes, too.) Individually requested items speed along an upper belt and miraculously land exactly where you’re sitting, only missing the screech of brakes for full dramatic effect.
With all the moving belts, the cries of irrashamasei, the QR codes to scan, the loyalty app to download, the survey to complete, the revolving sushi and the circulating servers, the anime and the bright lights, never mind the actual business of eating, you might find it all a bit of a challenge, as I did, to keep up. That’s not to say it isn’t all great fun, and to add further to the excitement, for every 15 used plates you insert into the table slot, equal to a roughly $60 spend, a Bikkura Pon, or prize, descends to the table via a chute. (From June 5 through 9, Kura Sushi will be giving away Dragon Z Ball T-shirts for every $60 spent.)
Needless to say, you can settle your check on the table tablet, but while no Luddite, me, I chose to get my bill the old-fashioned way, by asking for it. My server, Cliff, who’d been on hand throughout to deliver drinks and answer any questions, was at my side in an instant, and processed my card with a smile while simultaneously giving me a crash course in anime, about which you might have twigged I know astonishingly little.
“You should get into it,” he told me and I told him he was right. I should.
For more, visit kurasushi.com.
