Umai Umai

The "Umai tree," as the devout fans of chef Alex McCoy now call themselves, has spread its roots in a quiet but effective way that most restaurateurs could only hope for. With little fanfare in the press, and little paid advertisement, McCoy has built a loyal clientele for his cozy Fairmount sushi bistro over the last three years purely by word of mouth, rolling his inventive maki below the radar and reeling in regulars with an unconventional eye and fish that is equally distinctive.

"This is called the 'Alex-make-me-something-nice-platter,' " said the distinguished gent beside me at the sushi counter. He took the long plate from McCoy behind the bar with a wink and reveled in the array of perfectly sliced and exotic raw fish. It was as gorgeous as any I'd seen around here of late: delicate needlefish lined with a beam of silver skin; pristine goldeneye kinmedai snapper blushing translucent pink around the edges; orange clouds of creamy uni; deep purple tuna; and salmon whose coral hue was so richly striped it looked like sculpted marble.

I'd been to Umai Umai years ago when it first opened, and a disappointing experience with the cooked food and service dampened my enthusiasm. With so many other Japanese restaurants opening at that same moment, it fell through the cracks, off my radar, and never quite sparked my interest for a full review, until recently. That's when two members of the Umai tree ambushed my e-mail with the kind of effusive praise I'm usually wary of. But there was also a set of eye-catching pictures I couldn't ignore, with a checkerboard of tuna in brightly colored sauce, shot glasses crowned with oyster shells and roe, and a glass plate adorned with fanciful compositions of fish: This was sushi porn at its best.

Had I really missed something here?

After a couple of revisits the answer is yes - and no.

No because the cooked food is just as uninspired as ever, the details of which I'll turn to shortly. But the 38-seat Umai Umai is really all about the magic that McCoy methodically spins behind his sushi bar. His creations aren't all entirely successful. But he displays such individuality in a town replete with maki-copycats that the most important answer, if you're seeking a distinctive sushi experience, is a resounding yes.