Ken 'Spanky' Moskowitz
Google
Crazy Sushi: Where My Empty Plate Pics Tell the Whole Story
Okay, first confession—my photos of Crazy Sushi show empty plates. Not because I'm a terrible food blogger, but because everything looked so good that by the time I remembered "Oh wait, normal people document food BEFORE inhaling it," it was too late. Those gleaming empty dishes are Exhibit A for why this place is worth writing home about.
I'm a Phoenix resident visiting Portland, and finding Crazy Sushi was like discovering your favorite band playing a secret show. You know that feeling when your expectations are "yeah, this'll probably be fine" and then reality slaps you with "holy crap, this is INCREDIBLE"? That's Crazy Sushi.
The Space: Not Your Average Strip Mall Sushi Joint
This new location is immaculate—like someone actually gives a damn about your dining experience. The centerpiece is this artificial pink cherry tree smack in the middle of the restaurant.
Is it real? No. Does it matter? Also no. It creates this vibe between "traditional Japanese garden" and "that scene where something meaningful happens under falling blossoms." Suddenly you're not just eating sushi—you're having a moment.
The Service: Celebrity Treatment (Minus the Paparazzi)
The staff treated us like celebrities who didn't want to be recognized. Attentive without hovering. Knowledgeable without condescension. My water glass never dropped below half-full, which isn't impressive until you realize I drink water like I'm preparing for a drought.
Our server actually seemed—get this—happy to be there. Not that forced "my manager is watching" smile, but genuine enthusiasm. When's the last time you saw that at a restaurant where entrées don't cost more than your car payment?
The Food: Where My Taste Buds Had Their Own Party
Now let's get to the main event—the Shrimp Yaki Udon. As someone who once dropped an embarrassing amount on Iberico Pork Yaki Udon at Nobu in NYC, I consider myself a udon snob. This version? It stood toe-to-toe with the big boys at a fraction of the price.
The noodles had that perfect chew—not too soft, not too firm, just hovering in that magical middle ground. The sauce coated everything without drowning it, bringing heat and sweet and umami to the party. And the shrimp? Plump, juicy little flavor bombs that tasted like they were swimming happily in the ocean just hours before.
My only gripe—and this is for every Japanese restaurant—what's with leaving the tails on? Yes, I can remove them myself, but wouldn't it be nice if I didn't have to do shellfish surgery in the middle of my meal?
I also ordered a Crunchy Philadelphia Roll because why have one perfect dish when you can have two? The combo of creamy cheese, fresh salmon, and that satisfying crunch was like comfort food with an unexpected twist. It wasn't just good—it was "close your eyes and make involuntary happy noises" good.
My sister had the Teriyaki Salmon dinner, which she described as "tender and delish," but that's like saying the Grand Canyon is "a pretty big hole." That salmon was flaky, moist, and glazed with teriyaki sauce that actually tasted homemade.
My brother-in-law went all in with the Heart Attack Roll and various sushi pieces. Judging by how quickly everything disappeared, I'm guessing it was less medical emergency and more religious experience.
The Bottom Line: Book Your Flight to Portland Now
Here's the crazy thing—Crazy Sushi isn't just good "for Tigard" or "for the price." It's legitimately, objectively, I-would-tell-a-stranger-on-an-elevator good. The kind of place that makes you rethink your travel plans.
As a Phoenix resident with no vested interest in promoting Oregon restaurants, this place should be on your must-visit list if you're near Portland. I'm already planning my return trip, and while I want to explore more of their menu, there's a 90% chance I'll order that Shrimp Yaki Udon again.
And next time, I promise to take pictures BEFORE the food vanishes. Maybe. No guarantees.