Picture it — Syracuse, 2010. I leave the comfort of Pittsburgh and drive the width of Pennsylvania to complete an orientation for my master’s program at Syracuse University. The Central New York town known for its snow and salt potatoes (literally spuds cooked in extra salty water) has yet to impress me.
Luckily, a friend who just so happened to be attending SU at the time took me on a tour that included a visit to something I had never experienced before — a revolving sushi restaurant. We sat in the bar area as small plates covered with plastic domes slowly moved past us, offering a variety of maki, nigiri, and other delicacies, as well as seaweed salad and desserts. The restaurant, Sakana-Ya, still operates to this day (I even found a few recent YouTube videos reviewing it).
Upon moving back to Pittsburgh, a city more populated and exciting than Syracuse (sorry/not sorry, feel free to meet me in the parking lot after school), I felt a bit cheated. While my adopted home features several fine sushi establishments, I couldn’t help but wonder why we lacked one with a conveyor belt. Plus, if Syracuse can sustain one, we definitely can.
Imagine my excitement when Kura Sushi USA, described as an “innovative and tech interactive” Japanese restaurant chain, announced the launch of a location in the SouthSide Works.
The SouthSide Works Kura, which opened in October, adds to the aggressive redevelopment and reinvention of the South Side shopping and entertainment district that has unfolded over the past several years — for context, Kura now sits beside Pins Mechanical, a two-story adult arcade that debuted in 2021, and just a few doors down from the new Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams scoop shop.
Revolving sushi restaurants have existed since the late 1950s — according to Wikipedia, the first one opened in Higashiōsaka, a city located in Japan’s Osaka Prefecture — and, over the past several decades, have slowly expanded beyond their country of origin. Established in 2008 as a subsidiary of the Japan-based Kura Sushi Inc., Kura Sushi USA has brought the concept to cities in California, Illinois, Florida, and other states — currently, Pennsylvania boasts locations in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia.
Given my vegetarianism, I decided to recruit a meat eater to cover as much sushi ground as possible.
Walking in, I was struck by the lack of decor — besides a handful of posters for the anime series Jujitsu Kaisen, I was otherwise surrounded by sterile white walls. One aspect that differed from my previous revolving sushi experience was the layout — unlike in Syracuse, where diners are limited to sitting at an open bar area, Kura offers two sets of booth seating areas, each one surrounding respective conveyor belts. Yes, belts, plural — one offers a continuous string of tiny sushi plates while another “express belt” quickly delivers food ordered on a computer screen provided in each booth.
My partner and I tried several dishes that spoke to the restaurant prioritizing novelty over taste. As expected, the majority of the bite-size dishes — most priced at a more than reasonable $3.65 a pop — feature fish, with a few beef selections in rotation as well.
My partner tried the crispy rice with spicy tuna, seared eel with miso cream cheese nigiri, spicy tuna roll, and California roll. Overall, he seemed less than blown away, but happily ate the seared eel and both rolls (the various emotions he displayed while trying the crispy rice, however, suggested he was more on the fence with that one.)
As for the vegetarian selections, I tried two cucumber-based dishes — one salad and one roll — and found them both tasty enough. When the inari, balls of rice wrapped in pockets of thin tofu, failed to show up, I ordered one, along with a bowl of kitsune udon. The udon, with its thick noodles, two slabs of tofu, salty broth, and green onions, was hearty and satisfying. The inari stood out as my favorite of the night, a pleasant little treat defined by a bright sweetness and filling rice.
My partner and I came to a consensus on the desserts we ordered, and would gladly return for the fried sesame balls and warabimochi, bits of chewy, chilled, jelly-like mochi covered in soybean powder.
Oh yeah, did I mention the robots? While various humans staff the South Side Kura, from the back-of-house sushi makers to the hosts, anyone ordering drinks will meet the restaurant’s automated members, who roll around playing what’s best described as generic rock music (my partner compared it to the fictional Mouserat band on the NBC series Parks and Recreation).
Any criticisms about Kura are dashed by the childlike wonder elicited by its various ridiculous components — the robotic waitstaff, the weird joy of watching a bowl of soup rush down the express belt, the little bikkura pon prizes earned by Kura rewards members. The quality of the food mattered little to the many families, couples, and college-age Asian diners who occupied the other booths during my visit. Like me, they were looking for more than sushi — they were looking for an experience, something Kura is more than happy to deliver.
