By New Times
By Robrt L. Pela
By Lauren Saria and Heather Hoch
By Deborah Sussman
By Robrt L. Pela and Amy Silverman
By Kathleen Vanesian
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch
Brad's primary potation was the sinfully delightful Chocolate Twist, which may I suggest to Ben and Jerry as a possible ice-cream flavor. The concoction included vanilla vodka, chocolate liqueur, and dark crème de cacao, using as a garnish two raspberries stuffed with chocolate chips. Afterward he went for the Berry White, a blueberry-flavored vodka martini that had a lip-puckering sourness to it. Egomaniac that I am, I selected the Lemon Head, an alcohol-laden martini version of the famous Ferrara Pan candy. I ended by drinking a Ruby Tuesday, which is like a Greyhound, but pink from ruby-red grapefruit juice.
Yes, I did get to taste them all, but I think I preferred my choices, save perhaps with the exception of the Berry White, and the Chocolate Twist, which makes a killer dessert. Kudos to Carlin, who's behind the drink menu. He also rates a huzzah for having one of my favorite beers on tap, the Belgian lager Stella Artois.
When it comes to the sushi rolls themselves, I'm at a genuine loss to pick a fave. No matter how odd the appellation, each roll was a testament to Feimster's talent and training. Highlights included the Jeff Spicoli and Surf and Turf Rolls, either of which would be good enough to be the signature roll at any above-average sushi house. The Spicoli draws its name from the slacker Sean Penn character in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Alas, Oscar-winner Penn has yet to taste the namesake of his ignoble beginnings as a thespian, and that's his loss, because the Spicoli's combo of spicy octopus and BBQ Fritos topped with avocado would probably even win plaudits from the movie's grouchy Mr. Hand! The Surf and Turf utilizes a less obscure pairing, lobster and cucumber topped with seared beef tenderloin, and it's so savory that I marvel that it's never been made into a roll before.
2080 E. Williams Field Road
Gilbert, AZ 85296
Going through the entire list of colorfully entitled rolls would require me to pen a small novel. Amusing names such as the Badda Bing, Squid Vicious, Dirty Sanchez, and the politically incorrect Me So Horny, I'll leave for another time. But let me mention three more winners: the Killer Bee, the Kiss My Bass, and the Eating Nemo. For the syrupy-savory Killer Bee's California roll topped with eel and mango, I'd consider selling my granny to Osama bin Laden's minions. For the Kiss My Bass's sea-bass-topped mix of shrimp tempura and daikon sprouts, I'd at least trade an aunt or two. And when it comes to the salmon-splendid Eating Nemo roll with crab and lemons, I'd offer my first-born son, in the frightening and unlikely event that I ever reproduce.
All is served in a sage-hued interior with high ceilings, backless purple seats and a cool Hollywood Squares-sort of light box, which can be programmed to change color. A charming patio allows smokers to garner lung and heart ailments chic-ly, and the waitresses display a playful sort of attentiveness. Now if we could only pick the eatery up and relocate it to Central and Roosevelt, my prayers would finally be answered.