Audio By Carbonatix
Closing in on 8 p.m. on a Friday and Nori is just about
empty. A couple early diners abandoned the place about an hour before,
and the lone guy in the bar looks ready to leave too. Waitresses laze
in a circle, bored into listlessness.
Funny thing, though: the cooking—or lack of
cooking—doesn’t justify such desolation. Nigiri portions of
salmon, for instance, show stark veins of fat rippling across pastel
orange flesh. The flavor is clean and the texture like down, riding on
a thin beam of wasabi and decent, sticky rice lacking only the faint
vinegar tang one should expect from sushi. Croquettes made of creamed
corn appear so uniform in shape and color, you’d swear they were
commercially produced. But firm kernels in the filling pop, in contrast
to their rich, custard-like surroundings. Unlike so many spicy tuna
rolls, Nori’s actually reek with peppery heat, flowing over an initial
impression of fish and cucumber.
But during a lunchtime visit several days earlier (dining in an
equally vacant room), things didn’t go quite so swimmingly. Some B-team
sushi chef forgot that necessary streak of wasabi. Their surf clam had
aged seriously once outside the water, developing an ashen, gray-brown
pallor far deeper than the natural white to beige shades. Its flavor,
too, had crested and fallen, turning into a morose and chewy
thing—one that caused a little tremor of doubt as you plucked it
from the plate. Although the flying fish roe exploded cleanly, the
structure idled halfway between difficult to handle and impossible to
down in one go.
So it’s a tale of two sushis, kinda.
Nori is cast into a difficult spot, between Humperdink’s, the
pseudo-sports bar, and a nightclub called Che’s, lodged in the commuter
triangle between Stemmons and Walton Walker. Most people cross through
the area on the way to lunch (or to one of the strip clubs flanking the
area). Apart from Pappas Bros. and Red River, this is terrain dominated
by chain restaurants—not the sort of place one heads to when in
search of fresh fish…although there’s something to be said for
accessibility. Still, the location somehow resembles a real-life
representation of that old Sesame Street game: One of these
things is not like the others.
“We feel our sushi is second to none,” owner Mark Sorelle says. “We
don’t look at the chains as being competition in our niche market.”
Clearly that’s the case, given the attendance I witnessed. But they may
want to back down a step from that “second to none” bit.
Don’t get me wrong. The restaurant generally holds its own, even
surpassing many sushi joints in quality at times. Little things often
jump out and surprise you, such as the lettuce filling out their spider
roll. Instead of limp and flavorless color, strips of leaf actually
provide a noticeable crunch and splash of character to an otherwise
cowed presentation, almost overawed by kabayaki sauce, which seems in
this iteration almost like molasses.
Speaking of eel, their take on nigiri from this serpentine beast is
downright beautiful: earthy, smoky and nutty in flavor, with each
stroking the palate in turns, rising out of the same
kabayaki—this time apparently tamer, reaching both sweet and
acrid notes. In combination, the chef creates depth and wealth and
power. Yet perhaps the most delightful element in all this is the
fish’s gentle, oozing texture. Smoked salmon finds tart, smoky layers
fluttering over rice revealing, for the first time, hints of vinegar.
It’s another pleasing example of what this restaurant can achieve.
Then there’s super white tuna, a soft slab of porcelain-colored
meat, fresh and silky. Of course, no such fish exists in the wild. Most
of us have tasted it as either “cod” or “king tuna,” or under the more
heroic “super white” name, but it really goes by escolar.
The place has been open six or seven months. Sorelle confirms in an
e-mail that his staff just recently got up to review-worthy standards.
Pulling up to Nori for the first time, I didn’t expect much given the
location. I mean, the Pappas kingdom’s lame barbecue effort sits across
the way and ‘Dinks overshadows the lot. I was rewarded, on that trip,
with second-string attempts. The next time, the thought of long-dead
surf clam caused some anxiety as I approached. But they hit me with a
display of talent, starting with gyoza. The popular Asian dumplings are
seared lightly on one side, creating a tacky, sometimes crispy and
mellow shell over a nicely pungent filling. Their Louisiana roll
features tempura-style crawfish in a warm and rich environment,
supported by a current of tempered spice.
None of this guarantees crowds, however—despite some welcome
marketing tricks by the ownership. On Fridays they offer a “buy two,
get one free” special, which in our case encouraged another round of
maki. They also dropped some of the call spirits to three bucks, but we
didn’t see any of that action.
Hell, they even serve sushi until 2 a.m.
So they’re trying desperately. Sorelle seems convinced his kitchen
and the quality of their fish stand up to any other place in the city.
Honestly, I’m never out during the midnight hour, so the restaurant
could be pulling solid late-night numbers. Visits during what could be
called “normal” dining times suggest that guests prefer location or
ambience over the possibility of great sushi.
Really, they have moments when the second-to-none claims sound right
on. And all in all, it’s not a bad place compared with other joints in
Dallas, when Sorelle’s starting lineup works the mats. Oh, even on a
good night, the basic tuna maki falls into the commonplace ranks. But
their Westernized specialty rolls and several of the nigiri options
often resonate. The menu also includes teriyaki, tempura, grilled
items, baked green mussels and udon.
So, the wide open seating doesn’t matter. Empty or full is no way to
judge an establishment.
Nori Sushi Bar and Grill
2212 W. Northwest Highway, 972-993-7888. Open 11 a.m.-2 a.m. daily. $$-$$$
