I like this concept, however, I cannot see how it could even taste decent. Thin rice cereal bars, fruit leather, Swedish fish with chocolate dipping sauce.
I don’t really have a sweet tooth, so the point of art-sweets-for-their-own-sake is lost on me. There can’t have been a real, discriminatory taste test. They’re just trotting out a shovelful of the pop basics and kludging them together in a fashion that is only trivially referential to sushi. The reality is that it’s just another vehicle for King Sugar; you could just as well grab a bag of it and pour it down your throat, for that matter. I suppose I should award points for creativity, but like I said, it’s kludged, really. And the whimsy of little gummy-fishes doesn’t trip my trigger that much. Make the nigiri toppings look like real salmon slices, etc., and we’d be on the path to some genuine artisanship.
There’s to be a new sushi and robata bar in my stomping grounds come spring. Normally I’d look forward to it, but they’ve also got signs up promising pachinko, for crying out loud. There’s nothing like advertising your ruin before you’ve even left the starting gate. I don’t think I could bear dining in a clownish environment like that, and I expect I won’t be the only one. But I’ll check it out, at least once.
There’s just no pleasing me today.
There was a pachinko bubble gum machine at a distant neighborhood grocery store where I grew up. Besides the very real possibility of getting your penny back (gold mine!) the visual appeal of watching the penny fall between the nails was more than worth it for me. I didn’t even like bubble gum. I still don’t.
I’ve seen pachinko parlors on TV. They’re sad. And noisy. The pachinko bubble gum machine was a solitary isolated drama.
Imagine then, if you will, an environment of being forced to shout your order to the chef, and noshing while the joint clangs at you. This does not bode well.
A new sushi place opened about three miles from us called Koya Sushi Too near the Seward restaurant, still haven’t gone there, and I don’t think they could surpass Saji Ya.
That is why I said I liked the concept, but being a function first kind of person I just cannot even begin to think of a way to make such a thing palatable, and thus worthwhile.
It’s pretty but, yuck.
I haven’t been there in ages. I miss the old interior, with the sushi part of the bar on the opposite side of the room; the layout was somehow sunnier that way. You don’t get a complimentary appetiser-of-the-day any more, either. That rocked. Is the quality still good, and the portions generous?
I say it’s a candy lovers’ thing. Like those people who dress up their dogs and cats to look like lobsters and spiders and astronauts. Taste doesn’t exactly come into it, there, either. I mean, strictly speaking; it’s not really the point. So, so much for not playing with your food, too, for that matter. 
The much-dreaded “izakaya” I mentioned is to be called Masu. Look for it. If it’s as bad as my imagination fears, I give it a couple of months.
Truthfully, theme bars are common in mega-urban Japan, and a pachinko bar wouldn’t be out of the question, at least as a concept. But such bars tend to depend on a return clientele partial to the gimmick being pushed, and pachinko isn’t part of our culture. I seriously see a non-starter, here.
We kind of picked and chose what we wanted so I cannot say anything about their proportions. I am not an expert on sushi, so take my preferences with a grain of salt, but I would bet that most of the sushi places get their fish from the same place (coastal seafood maybe?), what was remarkable was the way the rice on the nigiri went from a solid piece you could hold to almost instantly separating into individual grains once in the mouth. Their rice was really what impressed me the most.
Sadly, with True Thia, The Himalayan, Bona, The Caspian, and other restaurants nearby, we rarely make it 10 miles from home when we want to eat out. The biggest exception is when we go to the Ordway and go to either Sakura or Tanpopo Noodle Shop. And yes, our dining is rather eclectic. Our cooking is even worse.
Then, there’s fish candy:
“…But It’s Harmless!”
There’s marketing for you. Where’s it sell best? The Faeroes?
I made this once.
It actually wasn’t half bad.
Ok I’ll bite, what is it? Where’s the wasbi?
Rice Krispy treats, rolled up around gummy worms and swedish fish using fruit roll-ups/fruit leather. No wasabi 
I used hershey’s syrup for the soy.
I made them as a fun dessert for a pot-luck get together for a bit of whimsy.
They do link nice. I would have to dismantle them to eat them. Foods that do not belong together should not touch.
Mute, are you the height of fussy or what? They touch after you’ve eaten them. Their residual flavors touch in your mouth. You might as well stop bothering to even try to get away from it, concede, and merrily mash your sweet potatoes and fish together.
I invented fussy. You should see my family howl when I am forced, through the vicious circumstances of an ill-thought menu and inadequate china and flatware, to eat like an animal just to be polite. I suffer in silence.
Hey, say that again, only this time like Niles Crane. Bingo. 
You are not the first to make that observation. I wish I looked as good in a suit.
Me too. But we’d need his tailor. It’s something of a comfort, though, to know that there’s no way on Earth he could pull off wearing my wardrobe. Yes, I look like I crawled out of a heap, but on ME it works.
Not only do we pull it off but something tells me that Niles does not have harmonicas, whistles, ocarinas and candy among other treasures tucked in all his pockets that are so perfectly flat. The best he can pull off is a tie matching handerchief in his breast pocket that is left untouched. I hear I exude warmth. And people long ago quit asking for an explanation when I say, “That’s OK. I have issues with food. But thanks for asking.”