Someone mentioned Trapper's Sushi at a recent Volcano staff meeting, whereupon Rev. Adam McKinney opined that its sports-bar elements make it seem like the kind of place he'd be more apt to like when inebriated. We resolved to test this theory by sampling it in two states of consciousness: I'd be stone sober, while Adam would be three sheets to the wind. Yvonne, our amiable server, took our unorthodox critical approach in stride. "I've had five shots and two beers," Adam slurred, "one of which was 7 percent." (In situations like this, it's important to be precise.) My wife and I drank Diet Cokes; Adam sipped a Blue Moon.

My combo order netted us salty edamame and a cucumber salad with soy sauce and sesame seeds. Those were fine, but we preferred the squid salad with tangy ceviche notes. The squid itself, Adam noted, had the succulent texture of teriyaki beef. I could've eaten a larger bowl of that salad as an entrée and been pleased. In fact, it was probably the best thing we ate.

Once our main dishes arrived, it became clear that how you feel about Trapper's Sushi will depend largely on your devotion to authentic Japanese cuisine. You'll find next to none of that in the Tacoma location of a six-strong Trapper's franchise. The Seahawk-blue décor of the smallish dining room focuses attention on a chrome bar and a couple of flat-screen TVs. If you sit at the bar on Tuesdays, you can eat all you want for 20 bucks. That's a doozy of a deal, but it hints you won't be eating top-dollar fish. Sure enough, the hamachi (yellowtail) was soft and disappointing. We fared better with the salmon, but you'll find fresher nigiri elsewhere in town.

Authentically clean tastes are swapped for raucous combinations of rice and fish in the rolls, piled high with spicy crab, tobiko (flying fish roe), and "warrior sauce" (spicy mayo). The rice itself, the pride of any well-trained itamae, is chewy here and lacks the expected tang of vinegar. This is American sushi for American palates. A side order of french fries wouldn't seem out of place. The food both benefits and suffers from a Guy Fieri-style collision of cultures and consistencies, with an unusually high number of crunchy components. I enjoyed most of it, especially my Mountain roll, but Adam was offended by its use-your-hands excess. Company loyalty demanded we also try the Volcano roll, which is coated in enough sweet chili sauce to obscure the taste of any ingredient subtler than cream cheese.

Basically, Trapper's ain't yo' daddy's raw fish, so keep that in mind going in and you should find it interesting, perhaps even fun. As for Adam, he's a better food critic plastered than most people are sober, but gets boisterous when displeased. It's safe to say he'll remain a Fujiya loyalist.

TRAPPER'S SUSHI, 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Sunday-Thursday, 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, 3118 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.891.2046