Ju-ichi

While EE Nami fries tonkatsu and Woomiok simmers bone broth until it turns medicinal, Ju-ichi stakes its reputation on **omakase-level fish at neighborhood prices**. Chef Nghi runs the kind of counter where regulars call out greetings and first-timers realize halfway through their nigiri flight that they've stumbled into something serious. The **chef's choice nigiri** skips the cheap fillers — no tilapia masquerading as white tuna — and delivers the same specialty cuts (fatty tuna belly, live scallop, seasonal catches) you'd find at $200-a-head spots in Little Italy, except here you're paying a fraction and sitting elbow-to-elbow with locals who figured this out years ago.

The **Epic board** — their take-out party platter — has become the go-to move for anyone hosting who wants to look like they know San Diego's sushi landscape. It's not cheap for what it is, but neither is it the jaw-dropping expense of comparable quality elsewhere. The rice holds proper temperature and vinegar balance; the fish arrives pristine enough that you can taste the ocean, not the freezer. Presentation leans Instagram-ready without the pretense.

Service runs genuinely warm — the kind of attentive-without-hovering that makes solo bar seating feel social rather than lonely. The sushi chefs engage, explain cuts, steer you toward what's best that day rather than what's most expensive. Downsides: it's a small room, so weekend waits happen, and yes, you'll pay more than conveyor-belt joints, but that's the trade for fish this clean.

Park in the Engineer Road strip lot. Make a reservation if it's Friday or Saturday. Sit at the bar if you can — that's where the real show happens, and where Chef Nghi's quiet precision becomes theater worth watching.