The mom-and-pop operation is very much alive—in a Bellaire Chinatown sushi joint, of all places. Mrs. Miyagi warmly greets and seats you on simple wood chairs amid white walls hung with her cheerful art (which is for sale). Her husband, Chef Miyagi, calls out a welcome from behind what looks like a sushi bar torn straight from old Edo, with a shoji screen softening the overhead lights and a large fish-shaped flag of the sort hung outside many Tokyo sushi places.

At busier times, it can get a little chaotic, and your order may run behind. Also, unless you stress familiarity with traditional Japanese cuisine, you might be steered towards the cheesier rolls and baked-mayonnaisey dishes. Just say “agedashi tofu,” whose curls of bonito shavings wriggle upon crisp-exteriored, velvety cubes. The dashi sauce is a touch too sweet and could use more fresh ginger, but it’s a lovely opener. Further establish your cred by asking for battera (pressed sushi boxes) and an ume shiso roll (Japanese plum—actually more of an apricot—and basil-minty shiso leaf). Sashimi is cut on the thick side, but the fish is great quality—perhaps because they don’t carry a wide selection, so they can run through it all much faster. Don’t expect a great sake list or anything—it’s all perfunctory. But you can bring your own, for a little upcharge. (Don’t forget to offer some to your gracious hosts.)