Sushi Yamaguchi

Now, this is what sushi places used to look like.

No huge barn of a room. No 10 sushi chefs working in a (sometimes dangerous, I have to think) flurry behind a multisided sushi bar. No teppan tables to provide the something-for-just-about-everyone option for those who would rather have their Japanese food "Japanese-steakhouse style."

Instead, Sushi Yamaguchi is just a long, narrow room in a narrow strip center, with about a dozen or so tables, a sushi bar with around a half-dozen seats and — on the evening of our visit, anyway — a lone chef working behind the sushi bar.

It’s minimalist in the Japanese style, but not spartan. A decorative wood grid screens the door, large paper lanterns are suspended about the sushi bar lighted by multicolor floodlights above, and a variety of Asian artifacts and collectibles decorates shelving behind the chef as he works.

Sushi Yamaguchi has a nice, traditional feel, and so does its menu, which is not to say it’s boring. While the feeling here is that the business is all about sushi, you won’t find yourself confined to tuna and eel.

We wondered, for example, when the last time was that we saw artichoke listed as an ingredient in a sushi roll? Probably never, yet there it was, in the simply named (no racy monikers here) artichoke roll ($7.25). And it turned out that the tender, delicate texture and flavor of artichoke hearts — in this case dressed with just a little wasabi mayonnaise and a sprinkling of popping smelt eggs — is a natural for a sushi roll.

Similarly offbeat was the Futomaki ($14.95), a big, thick roll with the nori on the outside. This one was stuffed with mushrooms, spinach, more smelt eggs and fingers of crisp squash for a good bit of crunch. And though the menu didn’t mention it, there was a prodigious amount of crab — or, more accurately, krab — in the roll.

The Alaska roll ($6.50) was more conventional but no less appealing. This one combined smoked salmon and crabmeat for a slightly salty, very flavorful combination.

And we had the shrimp and asparagus roll ($8.95) which was — you guessed it — shrimp and asparagus, the former just firm enough, the latter nice and crunchy.

And here was something else that we liked about Sushi Yamaguchi: While the shrimp and asparagus roll, in true sushi-spot style, came out by itself, the other three were placed together on a big round platter and served to us all at once. I’m not even sure what I found so appealing about this, but somehow it seemed different than three separate plates served at or nearly at the same time; it seemed to accent the variety of the sushi and somehow made it easier to compare the three rolls.

We also liked our starters. The gyoza ($6) was fairly conventional, but fried more crisply than most, creating a shatteringly crisp shell that contrasted nicely with the moist, ginger-infused pork inside. But the Firecrackers ($2.95) were quite offbeat — a saltine-cracker platform heaped with salmon, fish roe, cream cheese, scallions and chili paste. Popped into the mouth whole (the only way to eat them without them crumbling into oblivion) they were a layered mix of flavors that lived up to the name.

Service throughout was pretty good. There were a couple of lulls, but with one chef working at the sushi bar, that was no surprise; he wasn’t exactly watching soaps and eating bon-bons.

There also were a couple of lagniappes — steamed and salted edamame (which was served room-temperature instead of hot, but that was OK) and small tossed salads, which were pretty conventional (there’s that word again) but that were doused with an amazing dressing that we would drink by the ounce.

I’ll admit I’m a big fan of the fusion sushi at the big places — the weird combinations with racy names that seem to make them a little more fun. But if you’re looking for good, old-fashioned quality sushi, Sushi Yamaguchi is a good place to find it.

Las Vegas Review-Journal restaurant reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@ reviewjournal.com.