Best Seafood in Columbus: Local Favorites (2026)

Akai Hana sits inside the Japan Marketplace, part of the Bethel Road and Sawmill corridor that carries the metro's East Asian depth on the northwest side, and it reads as a proper sushi room rather than a food court add-on. The signature line runs standard and well: nigiri and maki built for people who order sushi often enough to notice when the rice temperature and the cut are off. Nigiri gets called out specifically in the record as the strength, the kind of order that separates a sushi counter with a real hand on the fish from one coasting on rolls. The maki side covers the group order, the table with kids, the friend who wants something cooked or wrapped rather than raw, and the room handles that mix without treating it as a compromise.

Service comes up again and again as a differentiator: water and a kids cup arriving without being asked, a greeting that sets the tone before the first plate lands. That kind of front of house polish matters in a plaza setting, where the room has to prove itself against the assumption that a shopping center address means a lesser kitchen. Akai Hana does the opposite. The dining room itself gets described as handsome, a step up from the counter-and-stools model, which fits the moderate pricing: this is a sushi dinner that can carry a family occasion or a date without feeling like an event.

The Japan Marketplace setting also means there is context around it, a reason to treat the visit as more than a stop for takeout. For the Bethel Road corridor, which holds Chinese, Korean, and Japanese kitchens within a few turns of each other, Akai Hana holds its own as the nigiri specialist, the room locals return to when the order needs to be right and the table includes people who do not all want the same thing.

Kai's Crab Boil builds its menu around one format: the bag, dumped table-side and shared. Crab, shrimp, and oysters come tossed in a Cajun-leaning butter sauce, ordered by the pound and split across a table lined with butcher paper. That structure alone tells the room it's built for groups, not solo counter seats. A boil restaurant lives or dies on the sauce-to-shellfish ratio and the seasoning heat level offered at ordering, and the range here runs from mild to a level that clears sinuses, which gives a table of six enough spread to argue over.

Crab legs snap easily when the boil is cooked right, and shrimp holds its snap without turning rubbery, both signs of a kitchen watching timing rather than steaming everything the same length regardless of size. Oysters round out the order for anyone who wants something raw or lightly cooked alongside the boiled shellfish, a smart hedge against a table where not everyone wants their seafood swimming in butter. Columbus doesn't have a deep Gulf-style boil lane the way it has Somali goat or Vietnamese pho, so a room committed fully to the format stands out by default rather than by crowding a saturated category. The price sits upscale for what is, functionally, a bib-and-newspaper meal, which puts it in league with the seafood towers at steakhouse-adjacent rooms rather than with cheap-eats crab shacks.

That pricing makes sense for a special-occasion group dinner, a birthday, a bachelorette detour, less so for a quick weeknight craving. Expect noise, expect hands getting messy, expect a bill that adds up fast once garlic bread, corn, and sausage additions get thrown into the bag. This is a destination for people already deciding to make a night of seafood together, not a stop for someone eating alone at the bar.