Downtown's Sam's Sushi Bar is tiny, and the portions are gigantic and reasonably priced, but you must play by the rules. The rules are these: Fill out your order quietly but efficiently on a small order form and slide it onto the counter. Fetch your own beverage - soft drinks, various domestic and imported beers - from the cooler. Wait patiently and listen for your name to be called. Bus your own table before paying the check, which may be rounded off in your favor if you've behaved yourself. Repeat as often as necessary. A staunch demand for order in a disorderly world has garnered owner/chef/sole employee Sam Katakura the nickname Sushi Nazi, for his similarity to the Soup Nazi of Seinfeld
fame. (Sam's ingredient-laden miso soup is legendary, but available only if he feels like cooking it that day.) Truth be known, Sam's a big ol' pussycat, more Jewish mother than gruff taskmaster, dispensing advice in a scolding but soft tone like a one-man fortune cookie. His downtown regulars know they might get more solicitous service elsewhere, and perhaps more creative rolls, but never with this panache. Familiarity breeds contentment at Sam's, you know?