Without a doubt the worst-named restaurant of the year is London's "Sexy Fish." But, the name — the audacity and stupidity of it — did set me thinking about fish seafood and sexiness (as opposed to fish and sex). Can a fish be sexy? Certainly not. When thinking about fish, "sexy" is one of those words that should be jettisoned into space. A better question: Can a fish be sublime? Most definitely. Especially when it comes in its purest, least adulterated form: sushi.

Take the saba (mackerel). There's nothing delicate or meek about this fishy tasting fish. And at Kurosugi, a sushi restaurant in Kitashinchi, the chef didn't try to hide or dispute this fact, which may explain why I never tasted any wasabi. I suspect that the mackerel had, at other times in its life, other purposes, but at that moment — as it waited on the hand-painted tile accompanied only by pickled ginger — I wanted to believe its (higher) purpose was to have a diner bear witness to the extent of its intense flavors. Sublime? Check

Then there was the oyster, and while I'm aware of its alleged sexiness, I believe it's more a case of its physical resemblance than anything else. It arrived midway through lunch and it was little, but lovely — even to look at. The sushi chef had folded the mantle in on itself, covering the delicate organs, to make the creature look as if it were floating along on a pillow of rice. It was glazed in the light soy sauce that is painted on nearly every sushi serving, which gave it a uniform light brown aura. The result? It's about the closest thing you'll get to the experience of eating velvet.

You could argue what the sushi chefs do at Kurosugi isn't much — or perhaps that it is just enough. Of course, that statement is as wide of the mark as it is correct. Witness the delicate pattern of cuts scored into the shiny skin of a squid right before it's placed atop a rice parcel or the way the rice is sculpted into small beds ready to ferry the fish forth — there is a restrained sensitivity at work. A word on the rice: Kurosugi moved into a new office tower within Kintashinchi during the summer and in putting down new roots it has started using a different kind of sushi rice, this one flavored with akazu (red vinegar made from sake lees). The result is a reddish rice that is ever so slightly sweet.

Another quirk in this kappo (counter restaurant) is that the sushi is served on beautiful hand-painted tiles. At first, it's a bit disconcerting to not have your plate beneath you, but you quickly get used to it as the variety of fish arrives in succession.

There's a few different priced lunch options, and it's worth indulging in the more expensive ones if you can. In moving to its new, brighter location Kurosugi has managed to pull off two tricky tasks: upholding its tradition and reputation, but also showing it's not afraid to innovate — even if only in small steps. It's sushi worth savoring.