A few months ago, my wife and I ventured to Fuji Japanese Steakhouse and Sushi Bar. I had never been before, but I’d heard Shyla reminisce about bringing the kids to Fuji for their favorite cuisine. We decided to give it a try together.
The restaurant is situated in a strip mall, and there is little more than an awning and a simple backlight signage bolted to the exterior wall of the building. To be fair, some landlords don’t allow upgrades or modifications to the building, and tenants aren’t likely to pour money into curb appeal without return.
Inside, there was a traditional blend of rich wood trim and dark granite countertops throughout, as well as a vacant hibachi arena off to the side.
For most occasions, and when available, my wife and I prefer to sit at the bar and enjoy talking with the server throughout the service, so we asked the host if we could be seated at the bar. We had the entire bar to ourselves. I opted for a martini; my wife chose a margarita.
I love writing about a great experience. There is nothing more exciting than walking out of a restaurant eager to share the experience.
However, from the drinks to the odd serving technique of thrusting the dishes between our faces as we were trying to talk to the food itself, I felt it was best to shelve this one, let it be, and perhaps revisit it again.
So, I talked my wife into another visit to Fuji in the hope that our previous attempt was merely a fluke.
On this visit, our server, Reagan, energetic and personable, welcomed us, and we began with a couple of drinks and simple appetizers. I decided to play it safe this time with a warm sake. I was surprised to hear Shyla say she was in the mood for a martini. “Good luck,” I told her.
The martini clearly isn’t the drink to order; there’s a clear misunderstanding of the simple process and ratio of ingredients. “Extra dirty” should not resemble the waters of a bayou.
Our pan-fried gyoza with its crisp doughy shell enclosing a blend of seasoned pork and vegetables was piping hot and as expected. An order of Tatsuta Ages, which can only be described as Chicken McNuggets and plated accordingly. And there’s really not much I can say about the crab salad.
It was still relatively early in the evening as we went on to the next menu items, hoping for a little excitement. Up next was a pinkish soybean wrapped LSU roll, snow crab, shrimp and avocado topped with yum-yum sauce, a spicy salmon roll and peppered tuna sashimi. I always look forward to the taste of wasabi and the sinus-stinging punch it adds to sashimi. However, the faded color and chalky feel of this wasabi told me it was past its expiration date.
The chances of salvaging the night were becoming slim. In a last-ditch effort, we hedged our bets on a steak and shrimp hibachi dinner, complete with miso soup, a basic iceberg lettuce salad with diluted Catalina dressing, and a wonton wrapped fried cheesecake dessert. The dessert arrived at the table before the entrée, and after a couple of bites, we knew our best course of action was to call it a night, pack it all in a to-go box and let it sit in the fridge.
I was dejected. I don’t like to leave negative reviews. However, dining in any establishment should be a fair tradeoff. You should get good service, value and quality for money spent. So, it would be unjust to readers to convey anything more or less than a detailed account of the experience. I sincerely hope our experience isn’t Fuji’s norm. 
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