Once upon a time I had a huge craving for sushi. I knew this place existed a few blocks from yours truly, so I made the trek there. It was pretty bare-bones, but you don't need all that much fancy pants stuff to impress me, sushi-wise. I ordered the veggie sushi to go. The clerk couldn't speak French. Normally I wouldn't care, but it frustrates me when I imagine anyone in my family coming to a place like this and what they would do. What, they'd just leave in frustration because of the enormous language barrier? So to me that's sort of a negative point. But for my own experience it didn't take anything away as I speak fluent Japanese (just kidding). I watched the clerk make the sushi. She did it with the air of someone who has done it a thousand times, but with a smile on her face.
I ate the veggie sushi at home. It was decent. It lacked some love, but there was enough like in it for me to go back when I get that craving again.