He gets other effects by skipping the standard wasabi smear. He dabs Japanese mustard under medium-fatty tuna and the hay-smoked skipjack, bringing out its bloody-lip tang. Yuzukosho, a paste of bright yuzu peel and burning chiles, bites playfully into the cool sweetness of a sea scallop lopped from its shell just a minute before it’s served, its edges still fluttering. That scallop dish is distinctively his, and once you’ve had it you’d know it anywhere.

Not everything I ate was in that category, and not everything is the best in town. The eel and octopus at 15 East are still undefeated, and possibly the rice, too, although Mr. Nakazawa’s has a wonderfully rich, rounded flavor. The $450 menu at Masa may glide to a higher pitch of pleasure, but the most striking dishes arrive before the sushi starts. No restaurant in town does as much with sushi, and sushi alone, as Nakazawa.

Behind the counter of Sushi Nakazawa, the chef is nothing like the movie’s humble stepchild. He laughs, he jokes, he handles live animals. One evening he held out a tray of sea urchins, their spikes groping the air, and asked each of us to choose one. The tiger shrimp he set down on white plates another night had more energy. With a flick of its tail one jumped up in front of a woman at the counter’s end. She jumped even higher. Another customer, more game, picked up the shrimp just above its wriggling legs, pointed toward his mouth in pantomime (Mr. Nakazawa is learning English), and asked the chef, “What is the best way?”

The best way is to wait until Mr. Nakazawa yanks off its head, strips its shell and drapes the raw shrimp over a cushion of rice. Everything is gently pressed over rice, in the two-century-old Edo style of sushi that Mr. Nakazawa respects and refines. Sashimi is not served, and there are no hot dishes from the kitchen.

Sushi Nakazawa operates more like a tasting-menu restaurant than most Japanese sushi places. Mr. Nakazawa does not take requests until the very end, when he offers to sell you a second taste of anything. He does work around dietary restrictions, though. (He also notices who’s left-handed, and sets their sushi down with the ends pointing at 8 o’clock and 2 o’clock so it’s easier to pick up with the fingers.)

There are three seatings a night at the counter. Reservations there can be made only for parties of two, which is needlessly unaccommodating; sushi counter dining is one of Japan’s great gifts to solo diners, and I can’t imagine Sushi Nakazawa would have trouble filling the slots. Reservations for the 25 seats in the back are more flexible, with staggered times and a discounted price, $120 instead of $150 at the counter. You can’t see the show from the cheap seats, and the room, while perfectly comfortable, will not be appearing in any interior-design magazines. But the sushi is rushed to the tables while the rice is still warm, which is crucial, and the dining room is the place to sit if you want to have a conversation without interruptions from jumping shrimp.