Getting rid of non-essentials can make all the difference: ripping the interior from your car'll give you precious extra seconds on the track, while emancipating yourself from your parents'll give you the extra freedom to drop out of high school, because it limits your creativity, man. Cutting everything but the sushi, J's Tomodachi.
Opened by a longtime veteran sushi chef tired of Japanese restaurants focusing on "gimmicks", J's cuts the hot dishes to plate straight-up fresh sushi, sashimi, and rice bowls in an intimate wood-heavy, beige-walled, eight-table spot that feels much larger thanks to high ceilings, and deeply ingrained body image issues. Well-honed specialty rolls include a Volcano, a California fancied up w/ octopus and drizzled with spicy mayo; the Spicy Shrimp (shrimp, crabstick, cucumber, avocado, lettuce, spicy sauce); and the '80s tribute Celtics: seaweed salad, flying fish roe, and white tuna that's been grilled up, like Danny Ainge during his Paul Wall stage. There's also the standbys (Dragon Maki, Spider Tempura, Scorpion Roll, etc), 54 varieties of classic nigiri or sashimi, and a rice bowl filled w/ thinly-sliced Teriyaki-marinated Beef Donburi, about which your mom always told you, "you'll understand it one day, now let's see what that crazy Cathy's up to".
Showing how dangerously serious they are about their sushi-only policy, J's doesn't even stock many beverages save for water, a few random sodas, and free hot green teas; they also plan to add delivery service not too far down the road, perfect, because if there's one thing that can slow a man down, it's the need to wear pants.