Oishi Sushi Bar & Grill

Joyfully, there’s no lack of sushi and sashimi in Park City. Making art of raw fish and rice are: Ahh Sushi, Kampai, Hapa Grill, The Flying Sumo, Blind Dog Sushi, Sushi Maru, and Shabu, to name but a few. Since this is a sushi-loving ski town, it didn’t take much for Oishi Sushi Bar & Grill to sprout up at the Summit Watch Marriott Plaza. This is a word-of-mouth town, and the word about Oishi spread rapidly. It’s become the insiders’ sushi joint and even out-of-towners are hip to its magic.

For a recent dinner at Oishi, my dining companion and I had reserved a Saturday night table. Then, as is usually the case when it comes to sushi, we ended up being sucked into the magnetic field of the sushi bar, always the best location for true sushi fiends. “No problem,” said our amiable host, “Sit wherever you’d like.” He then whispered, “But I’d recommend the left side of the sushi bar …”

Anyone who spends much time eating sushi knows that at every sushi bar there is preferred seating. It’s one of the neat things about eating sushi: Where else do you get to watch a talented chef make your dinner for you? The reason we were steered toward the left side of the sushi bar at Oishi is because that’s where owner and sushi chef Eddie Nam does his thing. It’s not that John and Paul, the other great sushi chefs at Oishi, aren’t perfectly capable and competent; it’s just that Eddie is in a league of his own. The South Korean-born chef lived in Japan as a student for a number of years, which is where his interest in sushi preparation was stoked.

Sipping Sauvignon Blanc, my companion and I launched into a very generous Oishi appetizer, a mountain of tuna tartare kissed with sesame oil, tobiko and slices of fresh avocado. It would have been enough for four to share.

Sushi, for the casual customer, can be intimidating. It’s hard to keep your hirame, hamachi and hotategai straight. But I’ll let you in on a little sushi secret: There are really only two words you need to know when ensconced at the sushi bar. They are: “Feed me.” Simply put yourself in the capable hands of a talented sushi chef. After all, he or she knows what’s freshest and most tasty on any given day. Eddie Nam says with a wry smile, “I like to joke with customers that the sushi chef is more trustworthy than God!”

Another approach to de-mystifying sushi is to calmly order the strangest thing on the menu right off the bat. Your sushi maker will know you are serious about sushi and hence, steer you toward items more interesting than the California Roll. Uni (sea urchin) is always a good place to start, as is fatty tuna belly, called toro. We opted for the hotategai nigiri. Nigiri is simply fish atop a hand-formed rectangle of rice, usually two per order. The hotategai at Oishi was made with nearly translucent slices of raw scallop on rice. It doesn’t get much simpler or much better. Think you don’t like scallops? Maybe you’ve never tried them raw at Oishi. It’s a treat.

We were just getting warmed up, enjoying our first courses and making friends with the couple at the bar next to us. The sushi bar at Oishi is an energetic, communal space where it just seems natural to share ideas about food — and sometimes share the food itself — with the strangers sitting next to you. Our newest friends were Bay Area residents who confessed that Oishi was their favorite place for sushi. They suggested we try the Pokiman Roll: shrimp tempura with crab and lettuce wrapped up in yellow soy paper. Good call! While we were in tempura mode, we figured we might as well give the Play-Boy Roll a spin.

It was a dee-lish shrimp tempura roll bathed in tuna and topped with spicy mayo, eel sauce, and tobiko — the flying-fish eggs that provide that extra little punch and pop. I’ve seen various versions of the Play-Boy roll around Park City and the Wasatch Front before, but this was the best ever. Maybe that’s not too surprising, since Eddie Nam invented the Play-Boy roll at the popular local Mikado restaurant five years ago.

By now, our new Frisco friends had departed, and we were yucking it up with a couple of Salt Lake-by-way-of-New York City foodies who’d dived into big bowls of brothy udon. They, too, were admirers of Eddie and Oishi. By the way, did I mention that Oishi means “delicious” in Japanese?

For anyone with a slightly adventurous palate, it’s hard not to make friends at a sushi bar like Oishi’s. The chefs are friendly. The servers are friendly. And it’s the norm to compare sushi notes with complete strangers. “Yes,” we told our new dining companions, “The tai [red snapper] is outstanding this evening! After all, Eddie prepared it.”

Oishi Sushi Bar & Grill 710 Main Street 435.615.2255

Ted Scheffler is a Utah-based food/wine/travel writer and radio host. He is currently engaged in a search for the world’s best cassoulet.