The Best Sushi in the United States

A sharkskin grater, some earthen ceramics, and knives that could plausibly start a conflict: the counter at this sushi shop tells you everything before a piece of fish appears. The chef trained at Morimoto's before opening this intimate spot in the Fairway Shops, where you can order a la carte most days. Weekends, the omakase seats about a dozen people for a long, unhurried dinner with fish flown in from Toyosu Market.

Tekka is a walkup hand-roll counter inside The Cosmopolitan, built for people with somewhere louder to be. Each temaki arrives one at a time, so the nori stays crisp, with warm rice and the friendly basics like salmon, yellowtail, and spicy tuna. A set of three runs under $30. There's a nitro matcha on tap for a gentle buzz, and the seating line moves fast, which is the right speed for a Strip pit stop.

The Nori is a handroll bar and izakaya in a Decatur Boulevard strip mall, which is where Las Vegas hides most of its good, cheap lunches. The temaki set puts five different rolls on a platter for about twenty bucks, and they're sized so you could share them with a friend. The nori arrives crisp enough to crackle, so you'll eat fast, and you will stop pretending the sharing was ever a real plan.

Aa Sushi is a casual Ballard sushi spot where the money that would buy one person an omakase fills the whole table with nigiri, rolls, and a startling amount of miso soup. The rice is kept just warm enough to go soft against a slice of yellowtail belly. The menu also lets you add tamago Spam musubi or lemon-squeezed chicken karaage, which feels less like ordering and more like giving in.

Hokkaido is a casual counter-order sushi spot tucked into a corner of a Bellaire Blvd shopping center, lit like the inside of a honey jar. You order up front, sit wherever you like, and a cashier somehow delivers each plate to the right person, a trick nobody has explained. The nigiri and sashimi combos are easy on the wallet, and the miso soup keeps coming. It made The Infatuation's list of Houston's Chinatown restaurants.

Masu is an omakase sushi counter that sits at the quiet end of the sushi spectrum, where nobody has ever draped a roll in roe or a squiggle of spicy mayo. The dozen or so courses are mostly about the fish itself, cut with the care of someone sizing a diamond, with the occasional hit of yuzu or grapefruit kosho. It's a sit-down, plan-your-evening, reservation-minded sort of dinner, and Eater has it on its best Portland list.

Planta Queen is an upscale vegan restaurant on North Clark, part of a chain that dresses its plant-based menu in design-forward rooms. The sushi stands in for fish with eggplant, watermelon, and carrots, which is a lot of faith in a carrot. Monday brings unlimited maki for $35, and lunch has a two-course special. Expect a polished crowd that came for dinner, not a lecture.

Daisuke Nakazawa trained under Jiro Ono, and that lineage hangs quietly over every piece of Edomae-style nigiri served at his Los Angeles omakase counter on South Robertson. The room is hushed and deliberate, the kind of place where you eat with full attention. An omakase here moves through nigiri flights with the optional chef's menu adding hot and cold courses before and between.

Hidden in the valet-parking alcove of a Rodeo Drive retail building, this intimate omakase counter seats fewer than twenty people and pairs its high-end nigiri with wine instead of sake, which sounds like a sommelier's dare and somehow works beautifully. Six seats at the bar, a near-invisible entrance, and enough hush to make the whole thing feel like a pleasant conspiracy. The Valley outpost earned the devoted following; this one earns the real estate.

Nine seats, seventeen courses, and Johnny Cash on the speakers: No Relation is a sushi omakase tucked inside the South End's tropical bar Shore Leave, which you pass through to get here. The team behind it takes the fish seriously, mapping each source on the wall, while keeping the room loose enough that smiling-cat sake cups feel completely right. A caviar supplement exists for those who want to go further.

The alleyway entrance in Madison Park sets the tone: this is an omakase counter that knows it doesn't need to try too hard. Yasutaka Suzuki, a former partner at the beloved Sushi Kashiba, adjusts rice temperatures fish by fish and rotates the menu with microseasons. He runs a precise, focused kitchen, but in front of diners he's warm and prone to laughing. The presidential-themed bathroom is its own subplot.

Sinaloan-style sushi, where the emphasis lands firmly on Sinaloa. This casual roll shop in west Phoenix leans into the coastal Mexican seafood traditions of the northwest, so expect aguachile poured over crab rolls and shrimp cocktail ladled on top in a gloriously soupy heap. The kitchen rotates experiments freely, meaning octopus, mango, or caramelized banana might all show up on a roll depending on the week.