Fushimi
Yeah, yeah, Fushimi is garish, and I guess it's out of place in that section of Williamsburg (though not-in-my-backyard pioneers SEA and Tacu Tacu are only six blocks away) but it's hardly the sensibility-offender it's been made out to be. Anyone freaking has clearly never been to Vegas.
And just like Vegas, the customers aren't likely to be locals. With Bay Ridge and Staten Island already covered by the sushi chainlet, there is now a place for Brooklynites from all points north to enjoy glowing neon theatrics while "Big Long Dick" (I couldn't get Shazaam to work, but that's a pretty easy chorus to remember) bounces off the spot-lit walls and metallic chandeliers.
When Fushimi first opened, a friend who lives nearby suggested that we take mushrooms and check it out. I was tempered by no more than a coconut mojito on this visit, though I would not rule out the possibility of a psychedelic future excursion.
There is a Sexy Lady's Night, each Thursday, after all.
The food? Well, it's superfluous. If you frequently eat lunch-deal sashimi at uncelebrated Japanese restaurants like I do, you won't have a problem with the quality. You will be upset if Yasuda, Azabu or 15 East are in your regular rotation. The sushi and sashimi for two wouldn't have been able to compete with the decor if LED lights were not embedded in the ice.
A fried soft-shell crab with sweet-spicy Thai sauce was a perfectly fine appetizer.
I like fake crab so the kani salad filled that void with a slick of "spicy aioli," a.k.a. Sriracha-spiked thousand island dressing dotted with tobiko. Look at those little purple leaves, though. A touch that shows they're trying, right? Same with the sparse microgreens on the soft-shell crab.
The path to the bathroom feels like you're on a spaceship–if Liberace owned such a craft. I was disappointed that the lights didn't change colors, but remained electric blue.
Fushimi * 475 Driggs Ave., Brooklyn, NY
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