If there comes a day when every check-cashing operation and 99-cent store disappears from Broadway in the heart of downtown San Diego, we can all thank Ra for helping to fuel the area’s revival. The slick, corporate-funded restaurant is the latest to nudge its way into one of the historically protected buildings sitting between Fourth and Fifth avenues, just as the nearby Yard House did a year earlier.

But Ra is a whole lot trendier than its neighbor flaunting those 36-inch glasses of beer. A chic Tokyo-style motif and American-Asian menu plays up to a traipsing young crowd destined to hit the age of 30 soon, yet savvy enough to appreciate the eclectic play list of rock music that adds cadence to your sushi. Tunes by Aerosmith, Iggy Pop, Nirvana and the like are funneled through a brawny sound system, which miraculously doesn’t put a strain on table conversation.

Staff attire fits the bill. The servers are mostly babes wearing tight sleeveless shirts with the words “Pleasure Yourself” stretched across their ta tas. But Hooters this isn’t. The bimbo factor is thankfully absent as the big menu of Asian fare and fruity bar drinks requires a little more culinary knowledge than if you were serving burgers and Bud Light.

My dining companion and I dabbled first in a few deep-fried “starters” that were obviously submerged in some very clean oil. The airy, whitish-colored tempura on a stack of veggies we devoured served as the proof. When tempura turns out any darker than light tan, you know there’s a dirty fryer at work. Also beautifully crisped was an order of Salmon Wontons augmented with seasoned cream cheese and spicy mustard sauce, plus some tasty Spinach Gyoza Potstickers that were delectably green in color.

The kitchen’s American-capitalistic roots were revealed, however, as we effortlessly sunk our teeth into the Beef Kushiyaki – three skewers of grilled filet tip dredged in sesame seeds. When a moneyed corporation like Benihana owns you, the meat had better be of higher caliber than what you chew at more authentic Asian eateries.

And unlike scores of sushi restaurants that offer about 30-percent full-meal choices on their menus, the ratio here is transposed. Each table is stocked with self-ordering checklists of limited hand rolls, which are constructed at a sleekly designed sushi bar in the back of the dining room. The stunning elongated Caterpillar, for instance, features fresh eel all the way through. And the Salmon Skin Hand Roll that we also tried was a tasty flute-shaped wrap filled with julienne-cut salmon (with skin), salty carrots and sticky rice.

Two good entrees marked the continuation of our eating frenzy. “This is a damn good piece of fish,” blurted my companion as he foraged his way through the Apple Teriyaki Salmon. Though thick and fresh, the soy sauce used in the glaze diminished any taste of apples. Conversely, the smoked plums in a barbecue sauce on my Spare Ribs were more evident and struck a tantalizing match to the expertly cooked meat. Both meals came with a generous serving of hackneyed wasabi mashed potatoes that tasted less exciting.

A marvelous historical surprise about the building preceded dessert, as I asked a manager about the date of the structure. With the year of its construction in question, she led us into a back office that hides a pair of antiquated razor-edged escalators. They’re supposedly the oldest in San Diego, left dormant decades ago after the building served as a two-level shopping plaza. The stairs now lead to a dark wall at the top – an eerie sight that customers can witness by simply asking one of the staff for a peek.

More thrills ensued with the arrival of Cinnamon-Tempura Ice Cream for my companion, and house-made Peanut Butter Cheesecake topped with sour cream for me. At the end of it all, a few songs by No Doubt pierced through the classic rock set that had been playing during most of our visit. A generation gap was acoustically framed. And the dining room suddenly appeared younger at heart.