First look: Aloha Sushi

We've got to hand it to Aloha, that's some good-lookin' sushi. (Credit: Mike Cook)

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Aloha Sushi is not owned or operated by the same people who run Aloha Tokyo in Locust Point, despite the similarity in name. Sushi at the uptown joint is good and nicely priced, and the upstairs and downstairs halves of the restaurant offer two different vibes in which to enjoy it. Now we want to know why, with no sign of Hawaiian fusion on the menu and hardly a stick of bamboo in the joint, it's called "Aloha."

Crowd: There isn't much of a crowd upstairs. Downstairs, expect to see 20-somethings and slightly older folks bellied up to the bar for inexpensive specials.

Food: The bar menu is the same as the upstairs menu, though there are different specials. Downstairs, Aloha offers $1 oysters, while upstairs select sushi is just $1 a piece Monday through Friday. Still, the most important thing with sushi is not price but freshness, an area in which Aloha excels. We picked helter-skelter from the menu, trying to test the restaurant's range. In the end, we found ourselves happily stuffed, and convinced that just about everything at Aloha is worth saying hello to.

Entrees run from $8 for noodle dishes up to $15 for more elaborate meals. Most specialty rolls are pretty standard, except perhaps the tasty softshell crab roll. Specialty rolls are all about $11 or $12, while most others are about $4.
 
Booze: The restaurant half of Aloha offers sake and Japanese beers, including Asahi in an enormous 1,000 ml. can. Downstairs offers a full bar as well as a good selection of taps left over from when Aloha was the Aussie dive Cobbers.

Digs: The downstairs half of Aloha hasn't changed greatly from its Cobbers days, though it is noticeably cleaner and less smoky. Some minor Japanese touches have been glossed onto the top of the otherwise unchanged bar. Upstairs is much brighter, with a modern, open feel. Some nice (but incongruous) art hangs on the walls, which, along with the tiny metal statuettes of the American presidents, make odd additions to the otherwise classic sushi restaurant decor.

Vibe: Aloha's dining room seems to be empty most of the time, though the downstairs bar was almost full when we were there. Upstairs, easy listening ballads mix with the sort of bad Asian-style music you hear in '80s movies whenever someone visits Chinatown. Upstairs is a place to get sushi and move on. Downstairs, the rock music, low ceiling and dimmer lighting encourage hanging out and talking to your fellow bar mates. Neither half requires more than jeans and a T-shirt.

Bottom line: A city can never have too many good sushi spots. We look forward to seeing the sushi chefs at Aloha expand beyond standard offerings, though. In the meantime we'll be hanging out downstairs with a roll or two and a cold pint.