The kaiten conveyor twists and turns gracefully, like an animated snake. But the room’s centerpiece is not just pretty, it’s smart too. Luckyfish embeds special sensors in its color-coded plates, which will automatically jump ship when they have been out for more than an hour.
This means that while grabbing food is still faster than a McDonald's drive-through, one need not fear encountering the slimy funk of hours-old fish. Within a minute of entering, I have spicy tuna rolls, salmon slabs and soy-paper-wrapped albacore to choose from. The latter is intriguing—barely detectable soy paper melts on contact with my tongue, giving way to a plump piece of fresh white-fleshed tuna.
The fellow next to me has a huge ’fro. I overhear him say, “I eat sushi at least four times a week. I eat so much sushi, I can tell the difference between fish that’s been cut in the last three minutes and the last 20.” But rather than the quality of the fish, he complains about the lack of interaction with the sushi chef. It’s true: Even if you sit directly in front of them, the chefs won’t say so much as hello. I ask him how Luckyfish compares to that other kaiten place, the one in Little Tokyo. “I stick to Beverly Hills,” he grunts, and I’m reminded why I stay out of 90210.
Fortunately, the seared albacore topped with crunchy fried potatoes arrives—it’s the highlight of the meal. I also fare well with eel. The dragon roll and the eel with cucumber are better than your typical quick fare, and both come with just the right amount of sweet sauce. But the crab stuff—as a baked roll and as tempura—is mediocre, particularly because I had much better at R23 two nights before. The seaweed salad is more lettuce than nutrient-rich seaweed, but then again, it’s only $3.50.
Which brings me to price: Luckyfish may be fast food, but it ain’t cheap. The plates range from $3.50 to $7.50, which seems like a bargain but adds up quickly because the plates are so small. With a bottle of sake, our two-person tab comes to $75. Then again, cheap is relative, especially on a street inhabited by Spago and La Scala .
Food: Sushi on the go.
Scene: Eerily tan Beverly Hills shoppers, parents introducing their fashionable toddlers to sushi, and fratty boys hoping to score the waitresses’ numbers.
Dating advice: It’s more fun for lunch with friends than dinner with lovers.
Insider tip: If you know what you want, order it from the server. You’ll get bigger, better-looking pieces than if you take it off the conveyor belt.
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