Dubai’s beloved Sushi Nations closed years ago, but the no-frills Japanese restaurant lives on in our memory

Dubai: This incredible metropolis has a way of making even a casual meal feel like an event. And for a while, Sushi Nations was that event. It wasn’t just a restaurant in Latifa Tower on Sheikh Zayed Road. It was a pit stop for joy. A conveyor belt of maki rolls, a can of Brazilian guarana, and that 89-dirham, all-you-can-eat deal that felt like a hug at the end of a long day.

Back when the Gulf News office sat in Safa Park, our wonderfully diverse team at tabloid! (the entertainment and lifestyle section back then) snuck out between deadlines to zip down to Sushi Nation. Quick lunch, fast gossip, then back to our desks.

Sushi Nations became our unofficial lunch pit stop. No frills. Just rolls. You went there for the comforting predictability of a spicy tuna roll, not for starched napkins or sweeping views.

There’s something about Dubai’s dining scene that makes you forget how transient it is.

Restaurants rise, get discovered, become a cult favourite—and sometimes, just as quickly, they vanish. Sushi Nations was one of those flashes of joy. It’s been a while since they shut those doors, but the nostalgia still bites.

For a brief stretch, this humble spot punched way above its weight. Birthday dinners, office outings, late-night binges when calories didn’t count. Sushi snobs sat next to roll rebels. And for a hot minute, word on the street was that this little joint even had a better rating than Zuma. Imagine that. The thrill was never about perfection; it was about abundance and accessibility.

The thing is, Dubai has always had these little touchstones—places that were more than just a café or a restaurant.

Think of Shakespeare and Co., with its frilly, faux-Victorian interiors where everyone went for a post-college catch-up, or the tiny coffee shops in Karama where a first salary was celebrated with karak and a paratha. These places stick not because of their Michelin stars but because they hold a piece of a time in our lives. Sushi Nations belonged to that club.

Was it perfect? Not really. Some days the vibe sagged. Some plates looked tired. But there were also those iftars that surprised you with variety, the sweet staff who remembered your favourites, and that playlist that hummed away in the background as plates piled up.

There was something profoundly democratic about the place—you could be in shorts and flip-flops or in a suit, and nobody cared. You came hungry, and you left happier.

For many of us, the memory of Sushi Nations is tied to a specific Dubai—a slightly slower one, when a 99-dirham deal felt like the ultimate luxury. Long before the city became a global dining capital with celebrity chefs parachuting in, there was something heartening about a neighbourhood place that didn’t pretend to be more than it was. It was a space that said: “Come as you are. Roll after roll, we’ve got you.”

Now the trays are long gone. The neon’s been dark for years. And all that’s left is the memory of a place that, for a while, made sushi in Dubai fun, unpretentious, and weirdly comforting.

The way Shakespeare and Co. still gets name-checked years after its heyday, Sushi Nations lives on in stories we swap about “remember when.”

Goodbye, Sushi Nations. You were never fancy. But you fed us well—and left us full of memories that, much like your conveyor belt, seem to keep going round and round.