A MOVING EXPERIENCE

I have read of sushi masters, seafood gods living among us mere land-based mortals, who are so committed to their craft that the amount of rice packed into each of their creations never differs by more than a few grains. This is balance.

I have experienced soul-piercing omakase dinners composed of seafood so rare and exotic, you’d swear they were sourced from the ruins of Atlantis. This is grace.

But I have never, until our recent visit Kura Sushi in Oak Brook, visited a kaitenzushi (conveyor-belt sushi bar) that boasted a doe-eyed robot—named Kur-B—who shuffled from table to table serving its customers beverages and singing beep-based digital tunes.

Nor have I ever sat in a sushi booth equipped with giant touchscreen monitors that gifted me tiny trinkets to celebrate how much seafood I’d consumed. This is—to speak in more homespun language—a whole hell of a lot of fun.

Full disclosure: If you’re in the mood for a more traditional dinner date—mood lighting, framed artwork, folded napkins, a full wine list—suffice to say, Kura Sushi ain’t it.

Better to think of the design scheme as Tokyo chic. Snug little spot. Boxy layout. White walls. Black and red booths. Wood-slat ceilings and light fixtures. And screens at every table, which give off, come nightfall, a warm pixelated glow, almost like a 1980s-era arcade or the video poker room at a casino. Only this particular arcade offers more seafood choices than the grand buffet at the Bellagio.

If you’re looking for Kura’s actual kitchen, look for the giant posters depicted a trio of anthropomorphized cartoon bears munching on fish, and you’ve found it. There are two “sushi highways” running throughout Kura’s dining room: The lower beltway—let’s call it the Wacker Drive belt—slowly trundles along, acting as a moving runway for its sushi.

Kura’s sushi chefs place their offerings on small blue-and-white plates, which are then sealed inside plastic flip-top containers. Each section of this snaking sushi train is accompanied by an image and description of the dishes that follow—perhaps seabream topped with yuzu pepper or seared eel with miso cream cheese—followed by three or four sealed capsules containing the actual fish.

To claim your selection, you tug gently on the plate, lifting up the plastic dome around it with your other hand and—shazam— that seabream or eel is yours.

Each offering, if unmarked, retails for three dollars and 30 cents each. The number of pieces on each pre-arranged plate varies based on the offering. If you’re interested in a glistening slice of snow crab or Spanish mackerel, you’ll receive one piece per plate. But most nigiri offerings come in pairs, while sushi rolls tend to arrive as three or four bites per serving.

Although Kura offers straight nigiri, many of its selections are glazed in various oils—umami sauces, dashi, ponzu, etc.—and sometimes come dappled with mild-flavored cremas. I’m sure some of my more-traditional sushi mentors would scoff at salmon being topped with sweet Japanese mayo or rolls crowned with mounds of tataki beef, but both proved to be personal favorites. We might as well call them what they are: guilty gaijin pleasures.

The range of Kura’s offerings is impressive: There are tiny bundles of yukhoe—Korean-style tartare—drizzled with a sesame-spiked yakiniku sauce and golden sphere of boiled egg yolk. And king salmon poke rolls fringed with tangles of seaweed, cucumber, and pickled carrots. And an eponymously named Kura roll, which sneaks a refreshing drizzle of lemon juice and a dab of shrimp mayo atop a traditional salmon roll.

Kura’s owner, Kunihiko Tanaka, is considered one of the pioneers of the modern sushi-belt movement, which began to gain traction in Japan in the 1970s. In the decades following the debut of Tanaka’s first restaurant in 1977, the Kura sushi empire went global by blend the appeal of gliding sushi plates, cool gadgets and affordable price pints.

While Kura representatives say that the majority of the chain’s offerings are meant to be homages to traditional Japanese staples, they’re also honest in admitting that they’ve added options—a spicy tuna Texan roll complete with cream cheese, fried onions and yuzu cream sauce comes to mind—designed to squarely appeal to American palates.

At three dollars and change per pop, Kura is a godsend for sushi newbies interested in broadening their horizons. What’s particularly appealing about Kura’s touchscreen system is that you don’t have to wait for your favorite picks to reach your table. Cycle through the digital menu and you can see everything that’s available on a given evening. Your touchscreens allow you to order warm items, which are delivered directly to your table via the top conveyor belt.

There are, of course, various ramen option available, but we enjoyed an array of warm small plate offerings. Think fried softshell crab. Tiny nuggets of karaage-style fried chicken with a creamy dipping sauce and grilled garlic beef nuggets topped with crispy garlic chips.

Roaming servers, this time of the flesh and blood variety, will grab with any of your used napkins and leftovers, while it’s your responsibility to dispense your cleared plates down a small chute at your table. Your touchscreen will keep track of what you’ve ordered so there are no surprises come check time.

Order a large enough number of dishes and you’ll be treated to a celebratory cartoon on your screen and then watch as a small treasure box above each kiosk, called a Bikkura Pon prize system, goes into full carnival mode, delivering a small trinket to your table. We received a key chain depicting a giant “ice bear” who ate so much sushi he had to take a post-meal nap. By the end of our meal, my son had a new keychain, and I’d discovered my new favorite totem animal.

Kura Sushi is located at 755 W 22nd St. in Oakbrook Terrace. Call 630- 635-0003 or visit kurasushi.com.