Sushi Nakazawa

I’ve never really found it that difficult to get into popular restaurants. It may require advance planning, such as calling the exact day that tables open up, 30 days in advance, at the exact hour the reservations line opens. Or perhaps the opposite—walking in at 5:30 and sitting at the bar. But it can almost always be done.

Perhaps the toughest challenge was Momofuku Ko, when it was new. There was a science of out-dueling the restaurant’s notoriously finicky website. Even the New York Times critic, Frank Bruni, admitted he relied on “tireless friends and readers” to get him in. I wrote a series of posts about reserving there, which I finally did on the third or fourth try.

My Ko Kwest was child’s play compared to Sushi Nakazawa, the toughest table in town since Pete Wells gave it four stars last December. Reservations open at midnight, thirty days in advance. Four times, I tried exactly at midnight to book the 10-seat dining counter, and failed. Finally, I settled for the 25-seat dining room. This was fifteen months after the restaurant opened. By the time Momofuku Ko was in its second year, reservations at its 14-seat kounter were reasonably easy to come by.

The restaurant’s backstory has been much repeated. In the film Jiro Dreams of Sushi, chef Daisuke Nakazawa was the apprentice who cried when, after 200 tries, he finally made an egg custard that his master, Jiro Ono, found acceptable. Alessandro Borgognone, owner of Patricia’s Italian restaurant in the Bronx, saw the film, found Nakazawa on Facebook, and lured him to New York.

Sushi Nakazawa is not a four-star restaurant. Pete Wells’s review made no sense, even if you assume that everything he wrote was true. How do you put Sushi Nakazawa on a pedastal occupied by only five other restaurants, when you concede that “not everything is the best in town,” and “the $450 menu at Masa may glide to a higher pitch of pleasure”?

Yes indeed, Masa is better. Nevertheless, if your standard is “pleasure per dollar spent,” Sushi Nakazawa is certainly compelling. To the owner’s credit, and unlike just about every other three- and four-star restaurant, he has not jacked up the prices since the review came out. It’s still just $150 for the omakase at the counter, $120 at the tables. (You cannot order à la carte, unless you want extra pieces after your set menu is over.)

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Cagen

We’re in a Japanese moment. In roughtly two years as New York Times restaurant critic, Sam Sifton could find just three Japanese restaurants to review, and one of these was a wholly unwarranted demotion of Masa from four stars to three.

In two and a half years, Pete Wells has already reviewed nine Japanese restaurants, and there are probably a few he has missed. Some of this is preference—Wells clearly likes sushi better than Sifton does—but that doesn’t fully account for it. If you love sushi, there’s never been a better time than the last couple of years.

No discussion could be complete without mentioning the newest four-star restaurant, Sushi Nakazawa. Each reservation date opens at midnight, exactly 30 days in advance. Counter seats are gobbled up in about 3 seconds: I’ve never seen one available. Table seats are a bit easier to get—only a bit—but for that kind of money I’m not settling for the second-class version.

In the meantime, you won’t do badly at Cagen, which opened last year in the East Village space vacated by Kajitsu, which moved to midtown.

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Sushi Dojo

 

Note: This review was written when David Boudahana was Executive Chef at Sushi Dojo. The owners fired him in late 2015 after a series of run-ins with the Department of Health. The restaurant’s other sushi chefs were excellent, so the restaurant should be able to keep running without missing a beat.

*

Was I imagining it, or have we entered a Golden Age of Japanese cuisine in New York? New York’s Adam Platt seems to agree: this week, he posted a roundup of six new entrants—and he still didn’t manage to hit all of them.

I won’t have the time or the money for such an extensive survey. If I could only do one, I wasn’t sorry that it was Sushi Dojo, which opened in the East Village in early June and was an instant hit.

 

The chef getting all the press is an unlikely one: 27-year-old David Bouhadana (above left), a Jewish kid from Florida who trained with Iron Chef Morimoto and apprenticed for four years in Japan. To this gaijin’s ears, his Japanese sounds like the real McCoy. (I remember him vaguely from Sushi Uo, where he worked briefly in 2009.) Joining him are Hiromi Suzuki (one of the few female sushi chefs in New York) and Makato Yoshizawa, the only one of the group born and raised in Japan.

The restaurant’s name, loosely translated, means “Sushi Education.” The chefs will talk about their fish until you’re ready for a Ph.D., but they can leave you alone, if you’d prefer. It would be pretentious to suggest that you can’t get your education elsewhere, but these chefs are more talkative (in a good way) than many others I’ve encountered.

There’s a menu of hot dishes from the kitchen, sushi and sashimi à la carte, and omakases at escalating prices. On the evening we were there, the top omakase was $80 per head (since raised to $90), which compares favorably to $135 at Neta a few months ago. Ingredients are everything in sushi: much of the bill at Neta was taken up with an insane serving of toro tartare and caviar, which is $48 all by itself when ordered separately.

The sushi itself at Neta was pedestrian; here, it’s the highlight of the meal. The chef said that about 70 percent of the fish they serve is imported from Japan, with the rest sourced from the likes of Boston, New Zealand, Montauk, San Francisco, and so forth. In our omakase, I thought the ratio was more like 50/50.

 

There are about 40 sakes on the menu. We discussed our preference with the sommelier, who brought out a selection of three for us to try, and then steered us to an inexpensive choice. We ordered the $80 omakase with Chef Suzuki (above right), and she went to work. A poached South African ocotpus (upper left of photo) had just come steaming out of the oven.

 

We started (above left) with a few pieces of that octopus; tuna tartare with wasabi, soy, and yam; and a British Columbia oyster. Then came a selection of sashimi (above right) with shrimp, hamachi, tuna, and yellowtail.

 

The heads of the shrimp were sent to the kitchen, and came back deep fried (above left). This is a terrific dish, if you don’t mind the gross-out factor. I’ve always eaten shrimp heads, but I realize that many people don’t.

The planned omakase included five pieces of sushi: madai, golden eye snapper (Japan), shimaji (Japan), Tasmanian trout, and fatty tuna otoro (Boston). I’ve shown the trout (above right); you can see every piece in the slide show below.

 

We didn’t feel quite ready to be done, so we ordered five extra pieces. A scallop (above), seared with the blowtorch and finished with soy and yuzu zest, was one of the highlights. We also enjoyed the Japanese spotted sardine, salted and cured; the Santa Barbara sea urchin; sea eel; and seared fatty tuna with lemon juice and salt.

The omakase did not include dessert or anything from the kitchen, aside from the deep-fried shrimp heads. If our experience is any guide, you’ll probably want a bit more. (The kitchen sent out a pot of tea in a clay pot, which does not normally come with it.) I ought to add that we dined at the publicist’s invitation, and although we paid for our meal, it was at a discounted rate.

There are 36 seats, which were mostly full by 9:00 pm (when we were wrapping up), but only 14 at the bar. As usual for such establishments, you need to sit at the bar to get the most out of the experience, or should I say, the education.

If you want sushi around here, the sky’s the limit. At Kurumazushi, you can spend $1,000 in 45 minutes, and they’ll serve you slabs of imported otoro the size of porterhouse steaks. Sushi Dojo occupies a more rational sphere. In its price range, it is one of the better Japanese meals I’ve had in New York.

Sushi Dojo (110 First Avenue at E. 7th Street, East Village)

Food: Sushi front and center
Service: Personalized service from one of three sushi chefs
Ambiance: Austere but not too serious, in the traditional blond wood

Rating: ★★

Neta

Note: This is a review under founding chefs Nick Kim and Jimmy Lau, who left the restaurant in October 2013 to open their own place called Shuko. Sungchul Shim, one of their chefs de cuisine, replaced them.

*

The entrance at Neta could easily be missed. Like many sushi restaurants, it’s an inconspicuous storefront on a side street and does little to command attention.

That’s just fine for Neta, which is not meant to attract walk-ins, or those who just happened to stumble upon it. Everyone there, comes with a purpose.

Sushi aficionados have been packing Neta since March last year, when two former Masa acolytes fled the mother ship, and opened this much humbler joint in Greenwich Village.

All this is relative. At Masa, you’ll drop $450 per person before drinks, tax, and tip. At Neta, the omakase options are $95 or $135, or you can order à la carte (much like Masa’s sister restaurant, Bar Masa).

When you pay 70 percent less, obviously there is a difference. Neta is crowded and loud, even on a Tuesday evening. It serves mostly local fish species. The textural contrast between fish and rice is more blurry, less clarified. A piece of toro doesn’t bring the waves of unctuous flavor that it does at Masa.

But you’re paying $135, not $450, and surely that counts for something. Practically the entire $40 difference between the two omakase options goes into a serving of Toro Tartare & Caviar, a wonderful dish early in the meal, which sells for $48 all by itself if you order à la carte.

Altogether, there are 13 courses. The first half of this procession is more impressive. A Szechuan peppercorn spiced salmon stands out, as does a serving of grilled scallops and sea urchin; likewise, spicy lobster and shrimp. Among a sequence of sushi and rolls, a flight of fluke, soft-shell crab, and grilled and marinated toro was the highlight.

Sushi chefs in the U.S. send out desserts as if by obligation, though they haven’t much to say. Still, Neta has improved on Masa with a serving of peanut butter ice cream. I’m not sure I’d be happy if I’d paid $8 for it (the à la carte price), but at the end of a long omakase it felt just about right.

The service is far less formal than at classic sushi spots, but still reasonably good. We were seated at a table (the bar was full), and that makes for a less personalized experience. I frequently had to ask for dishes to be described a second time, when the first couldn’t be heard over the din.

I wouldn’t put Neta in the upper ranks of the city’s best sushi restaurants, a category that certainly includes Masa, along with Sushi Yasuda, Kurumazushi, Soto, Sushi of Gari, and 15 East. Neta’s not in their league, but it’s certainly very worthwhile.

Feel free to click on the slideshow below, for photos and descriptions of all the dishes we were served.

Neta (61 W. Eighth Street, east of Sixth Avenue, Greenwich Village)

Food: Sushi and Japanese small plates
Service: Informal but attentive
Ambiance: A sushi bar and cramped tables, in a space that’s too loud

Rating: ★★

Bohemian

 

Any popular restaurant must decide how to ration access to its scarcest resource: seats. The two most common strategies are accepting reservations and taking walk-ins—first-come, first-served. Even those basic strategies have variations, from the funky online reservation system at Momofuku Ko, to the transferrable tickets sold at Grant Achatz’s Next.

Some restaurants that take reservations the old-fashioned way—by phone—are in such high demand that a prime-time table is practically inaccessible by normal means. Blue Hill Stone Barns takes reservations two months to the day in advance, and routinely fills up within minutes. You won’t find me anytime soon at Chef’s Table at Brooklyn Fare, the tasting menu at Roberta’s, or the three-day-a-week pop-up Frej, to name a few: there are too many hoops to jump.

Taking walk-ins is said to be more “democratic,” but the hassle we endured recently, just for the privilege of eating at Danji in Hell’s Kitchen, is a reminder that this often isn’t any fun at all.

At first blush, the door at the Japanese restaurant Bohemian seems more seems more impenetrable than all of these put together. There’s no listed telephone number, and it takes creative googling to find the website, the hopelessly unguessable playearth.jp, which it shares with sister restaurants in Nishiazabu, Japan, and Bali, Indonesia.

It doesn’t appear to be a restaurant website at all. After a few clicks, you find an explanation, and it’s not encouraging: “Please keep in mind that the location and contact info is not open to the public, so please be referred by somone who has already visited us.

“If there are people feeling, ‘I haven’t been there, but I really want to visit!’ please send us a brief introduction of yourself to the email address below. We may contact you to come over!”

I tried the latter, and within an hour had a favorable response by email, which included the “secret” telephone number. A day or so later, I called and secured a Sunday evening reservation, and that was that.

The system is strange, but try getting someone on the phone at Mario Batali’s Babbo: I remember getting busy signals for weeks, before I finally spoke to a human being. The first time I booked at Per Se, it took 45 minutes to get through—and I had to call exactly at 10:00 a.m. the day that bookings opened for the date I wanted.

I’m not here to defend Bohemian’s Byzantine ways, only to point out that it’s a lot more accessible than many restaurants that ration access using far more traditional methods. Plenty of folks have cracked the code: Bohemian has a 27/25/28 rating on Zagat.

Like everything else about Bohemian, the location is not at all obvious: at the back of a long, mysterious corridor fronted by a NoHo butcher shop on Great Jones Street. You ring a doorbell, and if you’re on the list (walk-ins aren’t accepted), the server admits you.

There are twenty-five seats, most at low-slung tables and sofas, as if you’re the guest in someone’s rec room. We were offered seats at the bar, which might be preferable. It’s a very deep bar, with ample room for placemats and drinks; seating is comfortable.

Despite various news stories and blog posts describing Bohemian as “private” or “mysterious,” they do not discourage publicity, once you finally get in. Illustrated blog posts, like this one, aren’t hard to find. But most reviewers honor the restaurant’s request not to disclose the address or phone number, as will I, even though neither is all that hard to find.

An evening here progresses, more or less, as it would at any restaurant. The izakaya style menu offers various small and medium-size plates, in a wide price range, but not expensive for what you get. (Click on the miniature image above to see more.)

The style of the cuisine might be called fusion, with traditional sushi and sashimi and the ever-present miso black cod, standing alongside “Mac & Cheese,” fresh oysters, and mini-burgers.

We had the six-course tasting menu, which at $55 might be one of the best bargains in town. However, I get the impression it seldom changes, as most of the other reviews I’ve read, featured mostly the same dishes.

  

The three starters were just fine, though not really memorable on their own: a fresh vegetable fondue (above left), an uni croquette (above center), and assorted cold cuts (above right).

But the entrée was one of the best dishes I’ve had all year, a pan roasted branzini with a bounty of seasonal vegetables, including potatoes, asparagus, olives, onions, garlic, Brussels sprouts, and several others I’ve forgotten. The skin of the fish was nicely crisped, and succulent inside.

We were served the whole fish, which (with the vegetables) was more than we could finish. It shows on the à la carte menu at just $28, which I assume is a half portion.

  

The fourth course is the only one for which a choice is offered. I had the mini-burger (above left), described as “Washu,” one of the breeds that appears on most menus as “Wagyu.” Served medium rare, it had a rich, fatty taste, served with two fried potato slivers. The other option was the Ikura Caviar Rice Bowl (above center), a dish so luscious it could almost be dessert.

A simple but effective Almond Pannacotta (above right) with black tapioca concluded the evening.

The restaurant was fully booked on a Sunday evening. Our tasting menu progressed at a comfortable pace. With its relatively small dining room, a couple of servers seemed to have no trouble keeping diners fed and lubricated.

The quality of the food took a notable step up mid-way through, with the arrival of the branzino, which was so good that it might almost have been worth $55 all by itself. To pay that for five courses was remarkable.

Bohemian

Food: Traditional Japanese and fusion cuisine
Service: Attentive and personal
Ambiance: The feel of a private club in someone’s home

Rating: ★★
Why? Relaxing and enjoyable. “Secrecy” works to its advantage.

Geisha Table

Geisha Table, a new jewel-box izakaya on the Upper West Side, bears out the maxim that good things come in small packages.

You wouldn’t expect that from the proprietors, the Serafina Restaurant Group, who run a chain of forgettable Italian restaurants (ten outlets in New York and four other cities) and a mediocre French one, Brasserie Cognac.

Nor would you expect it if you’d visited the original Geisha on the Upper East Side, which opened in late 2003, and to which Amanda Hesser of The Times awarded one star. It was a big-box place, too crowded for its own good. Not even a former Le Bernardin sous-chef, with the Ripper himself consulting, could make it memorable. (I visited once, pre-blog.) The original Geisha is closed for now, while it readies “sleek new digs next door.”

Meanwhile, they’ve opened this adorable little izakaya, not at all in the mold of its predecessor (except that it’s still mainly Japanese). It has just 23 seats, all of them at the bar, a counter in back, or a communal table. It won’t attract the glam clientele that was the main appeal of Geisha on the East Side. The food actually matters here.

The menu features sushi, sashimi, rolls, yakitori, tempura, oysters, a few prepared entrées, and a generous listing of blackboard specials that changes frequently. Most individual items are under $15, and many are under $10; a chef’s sushi/sashimi selection is $25 or $45. It is probably better to just let the chef choose (as we did); nothing here is particularly expensive.

Disclosure: the staff recognized me, and our food bill, about $60 for two before tax and tip, was perhaps half of what one would ordinarily pay. For the alcohol we paid full freight.

 

Sweet corn tempura (above left) was as light as popcorn. This appeared to be a standard amuse bouche that went to every table. A black truffle tuna “sandwich” (above right) must have been a chef’s special—I can find no such item on the standard menu. It was one of the cleverest dishes I have had in a long while.

The chef’s choice sashimi platter had over a dozen items on it, all in pairs. We were charged just $45 for this, and I’m sure it is normally at least double that. Japanese trout (the pink fish in back), deep fried shrimp heads (on the right), and uni (in front) were the most memorable items for me, but it was all very good: one of the most varied and entertaining sashimi omakases I have had in quite a while, and certainly the best at this price.

 

We then switched to yakitori, including octopus (above left), chicken thigh (above right), and braised short rib (below left).

 

The chef finished with a deep-fried ball of pork belly (above right), which was insane.

Geisha Table is a single room, carved out of a larger space (formerly The West Branch) that is a 140 seat branch of Serafina. You can enter through the main restaurant on Broadway, or through a less conspicuous separate entrance around the corner, on W. 77th. Despite the shared management, they seem to have little in common. Reservations aren’t taken, but on entering a hostess offers immediately to check your coat, a trick the hostess in Serafina couldn’t manage.

The only drawback here is the seating: inflexible wooden stools, about eight inches in diameter. I felt a loss of circulation in my derrière about fifteen minutes into the meal. For an overweight person, it would be torture. But otherwise, Geisha Table offers a welcome escape from the city streets. It isn’t quite authentic, but in many ways it comes close. The service was wonderful, but I was recognized: you would like to think it’s the same for everyone, but I cannot say.

The executive chef here (Richard Lee) has the same title at Geisha on the East Side. It remains to be seen how he’ll cope with the dual assignment when the sister restaurant re-opens. But Geisha Table’s lilliputian proportions are a hedge against reversion to the mean. When you’re that small, it’s a lot harder to lapse into serving a mediocre product.

In some Tokyo neighborhoods, there’s an izakaya on every street corner, or at least it seems that way. In Manhattan they’re far less common, and I don’t remember finding one as good as this.

Geisha Table (2178 Broadway at 77th Street, Upper West Side)

Food: **
Service: **
Ambiance: *
Overall: **

Brushstroke

Restaurant openings are notoriously prone to delay, but the wait for David Bouley’s Brushstroke was epic. Announced in October 2007, it didn’t appear until April of this year. Plans to take over the old Delphi space were scuttled: the restaurant now occupies what was Secession, and before that Danube—all Bouley productions.

The restaurant format is a hybrid. In the dining room, where we sat, there is a choice of three fixed-price kaiseki menus. At the counter, there’s a sushi menu, or you can order many of the kaiseki dishes à la carte.

The menu format is a bit clunky. You’re presented with the choice of an eight-course Vegetarian menu ($85) or a ten-course meat and fish menu ($135), but the longer menu can become a shorter one: the server explains what is omitted if you choose that option. After a while, you grow tired of overhearing the server repeat his explanation at one table after another.

You make your choice, the food starts coming, and all objections fall to the ground. Brushstroke is wonderful. We ordered the longer menu, and it was too much food. The eight-course menu should satisfy all but the most ravenous appetites.

This is no casual production. Bouley claims to have worked on the concept for a decade, and to have tried thousands of recipes in his test kitchen. His chef, Yoshiki Tsuji, runs an acclaimed culinary school in Osaka, Japan. There seem to be as many cooks in the enormous open kitchen and servers in the dining room as there are customers in the restaurant.

As the kaiseki style demands, there is a dazzling array of serving pieces, which are as artful as the food itself. I didn’t take notes: sometimes, I’m glad to be an amateur blogger who can enjoy the meal and not worry about remembering the details of every dish. You’ll have to make do with the photos, descriptions from the menu (the restaurant emailed me a copy, after I asked twice), and some bare-bones recollections.

Seasonal appetizers (above left) rested in a bowl partly concealed by an autumn-themed twig sculpture. Next came a luscious Kabocha Squash Soup (above right) with maitake mushrooms, walnuts, and pumpkin seeds.

The sushi (above left) was a tad underwhelming, but we loved the steamed Chawan-mushi (above right), an egg custard with black truffle sauce.

After sashimi (above left) came another highlight, an onion puré and kanten gelée floating in a beet-vinegar foam (above right).

For the first entrée, we both chose the Grilled Cape Cod Lobster and Lobster–Scallop Dumpling (above left) with an Edamame Purée and Cherrystone Clam Sauce, a terrific dish.

For the second entrée, my girlfriend chose the Wagyu Beef and Autumn Vegetable Sukiyaki (above right), while I chose the Yuzu-kosho Pepper Marinated Pork Belly (below left) with Malanga Yam Purée and Ponzu Sauce.

There is a choice of four rice dishes to end the meal. I had the Stewed Wagyu Beef over Rice (above right), which I was quite sorry not to be able to finish. My girlfriend had the Crab and Mushrooms Steamed with Rice in a Do-nabe Pot (below left), also excellent.

There were three pretty good desserts (above right and below), but I didn’t take note of them: sorry. We were by this time too full to appreciate them properly.

The meal ends with a refreshing cup of green tea (below).

The wine list has many pages of sakes and western wines, not inexpensive, but not out of whack with the cost of the meal. A 2006 Lucien Crochet Sancerre pinot noir, at $72, was about two times retail, a fair price.

The faux-Klimmt décor of Danube and Secession, one of the city’s gems, is alas no more. But they certainly have not stinted on the design of Brushstroke, a riot of blond wood and under-stated elegance.

You can understand why people are reluctant to open anything ambitious in New York. The city’s two most influential critics, Sam Sifton and Adam Platt, both gave it two stars, the same rating they’d give some random pasta joint. Count on the Post’s Steve Cuozzo to get it right: three stars.

Like any David Bouley production, there are some missteps. The only website for Brushtroke is David Bouley’s corporate site, which is tagged with the watermark, “Site in Development.” Want to look at a menu or download a wine list? Fuhgeddaboudit. This is really inexcusable. The place has been open for six months!

And as I mentioned, the menu format is somewhat confusing. Without looking up critics’ reviews, it isn’t even clear that a sushi and à la carte menu is available at the counter. Despite these missteps, the dining room is filling up routinely. Even a Wednesday evening had to be booked a month in advance.

It is well worth the effort.

Brushstroke (30 Hudson Street at Duane Street, TriBeCa)

Food: ***
Service: **½
Ambiance: ***
Overall: ***

Tanuki Tavern

Note: Tanuki Tavern closed in May 2012. It will be replaced by Toy, a new concept and menu from the same owner, Jeffrey Chodorow. The countdown on its eventual closure begins in 5, 4, 3, 2,….

*

When maestro of mediocrity Jeffrey Chodorow replaced his Meatpacking District Japanese restaurant Ono with Tanuki Tavern, I did not rush to dine there. His restaurants are never great, and often suck. Nobody in this town has had so many restaurants spectacularly flame out. How is he still in business?

Coverage on Eater.com made Tanuki Tavern sound more like a gimmick than a serious restaurant. When I learned that the menu would have 70 items, I was not impressed. In the Times, Sam Sifton awarded one star, which is one more than I figured it would get.

The excuse to try Tanuki Tavern came last weekend, when my son was in town and my original dining plans fell through. Much to my surprise, Tanuki Tavern is decent. Actually, it is not bad.

That epic-length menu is mostly Japanese, hedging itself as only Chodorow can, with nine categories, and interlopers like a Pat LaFreida burger and a Creekstone Farms bone-in steak. Many dishes are cross-overs not found on most Japanese menus, like Tuna Sliders and Spicy French Fries.

Aside from the steak ($58), nothing is very expensive. Three appetizers (“snacks” in Chod-speak) and a plate of rolls were $67. It was hard to tell how much food to order, which is surely what the Chod-meister wants, as you are encouraged to spend in excess; fortunately, it was exactly the right amount.

There are no great discoveries here (you knew that, right?), but everything was enjoyable.

Fish & Chips ($9; above left) were exactly what you’d expect. Flecks of yuzu in the tartar sauce were the only connection to the restaurant’s Japanese theme. We loved the Tori Dongo ($7; above right), three chicken meatballs in rice crust with spicy ponzu.

If you grill chicken wings with citrus salt, the result is Tebayaki ($9; above left), and it was very good indeed. The four half-rolls we tried (above right), ranging from $7 to $14 apiece, were on the level of any decent neighborhood sushi place.

Chodorow did a nice job with the rehab, making Tanuki Tavern seem a lot less cavernous and corporate than Ono. Actually, you don’t feel like you’re in the Meatpacking District, which is an accomplishment.

The sushi chefs are Japanese, but none of the servers are. The restaurant is not full, and yet, when you need them they aren’t around. Plates that clearly call for silverware are initially served without any. An empty glass goes unnoticed. When you do get the servers’ attention, they are friendly and efficient. And at least you never want for paper napkins, which are rolled up and kept in a mug by the side of the table.

One wonders how long it will be before Tanuki Tavern joins the Chodorow restaurant cemetery. On a Saturday evening at 7:30 p.m., just a few tables were occupied. It was about half full when we left, and clearly not setting the world afire. There was an unusual abundance of all-girl parties and families with children. This kind of patronage is fleeting. If Chodorow has another restaurant concept up his sleeve, he might as well start getting it ready.

But in the meantime, Tanuki Tavern feels a lot less cynical than many of its Meatpacking District brethren, despite the over-reaching Chod-speak menu. I wouldn’t mind going back.

Tanuki Tavern (18 Ninth Avenue at 13th Street, Meatpacking District)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *
Overall: *

Sushi Uo

Note: Sushi Uo closed in December 2010. The owner planned to continue operating it as a private event space. The review below is under chef David Bouhadana, who left the restaurant in February 2009.

*

Sushi Uo opened several months ago on the Lower East Side. Its peculiar conceit is that the 23-year-old chef, David Bouhadana, is an American from Florida. He has trained at several Japanese restaurants, most recently Morimoto; still, it takes guts to try something like this.

Most restaurants want to be found. Sushi Uo takes the opposite approach. There is no outdoor sign at all, and the entrance is up a flight of stairs that would seem to lead to tenement apartments. If you haven’t done your advance research, you’ve no prayer of stumbling on the place. Once inside, a narrow, dark room greets you, decorated in black. The soundtrack is hip (by my standards), but not excessively loud. If you’re looking for a date spot that serves sushi, look no further.

The menu offers cooked plates from the kitchen ($4–14), à la carte sushi and sashimi (mostly $3–6 per piece), and rolls ($6–11). Combination platters range from $19–46. These are good prices for sushi in Manhattan. We had an abundance of food for $85, and that included two orders of Fatty Tuna ($8 ea.).

There were also a couple of extras: a terrific potato and spinach soup served in a shot glass as an amuse-bouche, and a large helping of boiled edamame (normally $4). But beyond that there was very little to rush back for. The most expensive dish we had, a Mixed Tempura ($11.50), was pedestrian, but we loved the Wasabi Gnocchi ($9.50). The various sushi, sashimi, and rolls were well made, but you’ll find something comparable in most neighborhoods.

Sushi Uo (151 Rivington Street between Clinton & Suffolk Streets, Lower East Side)

Food: *
Service: *
Ambiance: *½
Overall: *

Kajitsu

Among the many surprises in the latest Michelin Guide was a star given to Kajitsu, a tiny East Village Japanese restaurant that the mainstream critics practically ignored. Among major publications, four out of five stars from TONY was the only full review. The Times relegated it to Dining Briefs.

Some complain that the Michelin Guide fails to conform to “Received Wisdom” about what is good in New York, but I find it refreshing to find out about places the other critics overlooked. So we paid Kajitsu a visit on Saturday evening.

Without a strong recommendation, this is not a restaurant I would have visited. It’s what Americans would call vegan. There are no animal products on the menu at all.

In Japanese, it’s called Shojin, a Zen Buddhist practice based on respect for living things. Plates are artistically composed in the Kaiseki style, with an equal emphasis on taste and beauty.

As a confirmed carnivore, I must admit that I would not choose a steady diet of this kind of food. I was willing to try it once.

The only choices are the four-course menu for $50 or the eight-course menu for $70. (Click on the image to the right for a full-size copy.) Both change monthly. It seems silly not to spend $20 more for double the number of courses, and it appeared to us that most patrons felt the same.

The chef, Masato Mishihara, works quietly behind a blonde wood counter. He seems to do all of the cooking himself. There are several servers, all female, who tend to eight seats at the counter and eighteen more at the tables. The space was not full, and reservations had been timed to ensure that the chef could keep up without ever having to hurry.

The first course (above) was a slow braised Japanese turnip with black truffle and a bit of gold leaf. We were impressed by the sweet flavor of a vegetable not often served on its own. Like most of the courses, it came in a bowl that was as artistic as the food itself.

A Carrot and Shimeji Mushroom Soup (above left), with little flecks of mushroom tempura, was much better than I ever thought carrot soup could be.

The next course (below) included Fresh Diced Persimmon, Fig and Jicama with Creamy Sesame Sauce (basically a fruit salad) inside of a hollowed-out gourd. Alongside that was a hot House-made Tofu with Matcha Soy Glaze.

Just as impressive was the feat of hollowing out the gourds, which cannot have been easy.

Next came a House-made Soba Dumpling (above left) with a daub of wasabi. I appreciated the technical skill involved, but the taste was too monotonous for me.

The largest item (above right), which the servers described “the main course,” included a pumpkin wheat gluten called “fu” in a cranberry sauce, tempura vegetables, and salad greens. Like several other dishes, it illustrated the chef’s skill at combining local produce with Japanese technique.

The savory part of the menu ended with Matsutake Mushroom Rice and House-Made Pickled Vegetables (above left). We loved the vegetables, but the rice was merely adequate.

Dessert, described as a Chestnut “Yokan” Pastry (above right), was distinctly unpleasant. Just as perplexing was crumble of peanuts, resembling the leftovers of a snack served in coach.

Rakagun Candies (above left) weren’t impressive, even if they were imported from Kyoto, but I loved the intense fluffy green tea, mixed by hand with a whisk.

I respect and admire the chef’s skill. All of the courses were very good and beautifully presented, except for the desserts. But I am not eager to repeat the experience, especially at $70 per person before alcohol, tax, and tip. By the end, I was starting to pine for some animal fat. That shouldn’t necessarily dissuade you: remember, I am a carnivore.

You could easily miss the place. It’s on a non-descript block in the far East Village, not far from Tompkins Square Park, in the cellar of what appears to be a tenemant building. The rooms are the perfect picture of Buddhist austerity.

The servers are every bit as polished as the cuisine. There is a short list of sakes, wines, and beers, priced for any budget.

Kajitsu (414 E. 9th St. between First Ave. & Avenue A, East Village)

Food: **
Service: **
Ambiance: **
Overall: **