Kaiten sushi — the conveyor belt kind — already exists on the blog. But Sushiro is a different beast entirely. This is the one where you stop counting plates and start counting regrets.

I want to be clear upfront: I am not a person who exercises portion control. I respect people who do. I am just not one of them. Sushiro, Japan's biggest kaiten sushi chain, was designed for someone with my specific mindset and I walked out of there having proved it.

The system is simple. You sit at a booth or counter seat. There's a tablet. You order from the tablet and your dishes come down a dedicated lane directly to your table — no waiting for something to come round on the belt. The belt still runs alongside you with extra items, limited specials, the occasional dessert. You can take from it. Most things are 110 yen a plate. Some are more. The green tea is free and comes from a tap built into your booth.

Salmon nigiri plates moving along the Sushiro conveyor belt
The belt never stops. Neither did we.

What We Ordered

Salmon, obviously, to start. Then tuna. Then something with scallop that arrived faster than seemed physically possible. Then more salmon because it was 110 yen and the tablet was right there. We branched out into some of the specials — a crab gunkan, something with a blow-torched topping that I didn't fully identify but ordered twice — and circled back to salmon a third time because this is who I am.

Sushiro conveyor belt with plates coming through
The tablet ordering system means your food arrives in under two minutes. Dangerous.

The quality is genuinely good. Not omakase good, not sit-at-the-counter-while-a-chef-stares-at-you good. But for 110 yen a plate, the fish is fresh, the rice temperature is right, and the ratio of fish to rice is actually respectful. We've paid three times as much for sushi in the UK that was considerably worse.

The Plate Tower

At the end of the meal you stack your empty plates. The staff count them and that's how they calculate your bill. This is either a very trusting system or a very clever psychological trick — watching your stack grow makes you think about whether you really need another plate. Reader, I always needed another plate.

We stopped at thirty-something. The tower was impressive. Johnny photographed it like it was a landmark, which it was, really — a personal landmark. The bill came to about 3,500 yen each. Under twenty quid. For thirty plates of sushi. I've spent more on a sandwich in an airport.

Sushiro is everywhere in Japan. Find one, sit down, use the tablet, and don't look at the plate tower until you're actually finished. Trust me.