Apr 14
1/2 This is a crazy Japanese Japanese-Italian place that you could walk by a million times and not really notice. Ingredients tend towards luxe (lobster and foie gras) and portions are small (definitely a nod to the Japanese rather than Italian side). Normally, I might shy away but it wasn't on my dime. I will admit dining is much more enjoyable when cost isnt a major issue. See my Time Out NY Eating & Drinking Guide review.
Basta Pasta * 37 W 17th St., New York, NY
1/2
Minado is clearly the Japanese version of East
Buffet. And if you're familiar with East Buffet, I barely need
elaborate. It's an over-the-top, horn-of-plenty feeding frenzy. The dcor is
definitely more restrained than it's similar Chinese all-you-can-eat, but
being in a Long Island strip mall, you could hardly call it tasteful. It's
not someplace I'd normally frequent, but it's near the Hicksville Ikea and a
person can only take so much meatballs and lingonberry after a hard day's
shopping.
Of course, there's a sushi bar with all sorts of varieties including one
baffler with pink rice. There are also standards such as teriyaki, wakame,
and edamame. But like any good "ethnic" buffet, there must be American
banquet pleasers a la lobster thermador, and pasta. Being a lover of tiny
not-quite-sweet-enough Asian desserts, I was happy with the rows of light
layered sponge cakes flavored with mocha and green tea.
Load up, but don't waste (throwing out uneaten sushi will net you a 20%
surcharge) and don't overstay the 1.5 hour limit. Ha, we always end up past
the two-hour mark without even realizing it. It's not a matter of being
piggish, it's just that normal, i.e. myself, people eat at a reasonable pace
(you may be aware of my "shovel time" grade school lunch trauma). Everyone
around us came and went, new crops filled the tables while we held our slow
and steady ground. And slow and steady wins the race, right?
Minado* 219 Glen Cove Rd.,
Carle Place, NY
Who says the obnoxious practice of bombarding apartment buildings with take
out menus doesn't work? I'd always meant to try Rai Rai Ken, but it's tiny
and it just never seemed to be the right moment…until James had a menu
slipped under his door. I'm not a huge ramen fan, and yes I know ramen is
not all like Top Ramen, but this soup was on the tastier side. What was
truly baffling were the list of extras: green onion and roast pork I
understand, but butter?! I knew those Japanese had a fetish for
mayonnaise, but apparently they're nutty for dairy in all its inappropriate
forms.
RaiRai Ken * 214 E. 10th, New York, NY
With these name brand restaurants, I hem and haw over what to say, as if
seriousness of mission is ever reflected in my recounting. Whatever.
Morimoto was a spur of the moment birthday dinner choice. All I knew was
that New York City was not the place to be for James's 33rd birthday. Not
after the past few years of fiascos. I randomly made out of town
reservations. Perhaps not the brightest financial move, but hey, what's a
whole week's wages for a meal ($12/hour part time doesn't get you far when
it comes to high end dining)? That's right, the world is this library
clerk's oyster.
We ended up taking the middle ground, trying the $100 omakase (the
others being $80 or $120) and probably ordered a bad wine, the waiter seemed
curt and unimpressed with me. But that could've had more to do with how
every time we go to a restaurant that serves a Willamette Valley wine James
makes a big point of asking how to pronounce it because invariably they'll
say Willa Met as he also incorrectly says it. It's Wil
LAM ette, the correct way, my way. I'm from the Willamette Valley, for
crying out loud. Anyway, the ruse always alienates staff and pisses me off.
It's definitely a thrill to see the plates coming out, not knowing what
you'll get. The trouble is not having a menu to refer to, and only the
verbal descriptions. I tend to forget subtle ingredients, nuances and feel
self-conscious about scribbling in a notebook like an foodie who needs to be
put in his place. The first course was toro tartare with caviar wasabi and
what they called a Japanese peach (more like a pitted berry), then a palate
cleanser of wasabi-yuzu sorbet with a beignet (not a pillowy New Orleans
goodie, but a miniature, sweet breadstick), third was hamachi with
microgreens and a yuzu vinaigrette, fourth halibut steamed with sake in a
banana leaf, fifth Kobe beef with Japanese potatoes (sweet), and a final
sushi course served on a board (I don't remember the individual varieties,
there were about six in the style I think is called Nigiri-sushi). Dessert
was a long thin strip of yam cake with a postage stamp-size square of lime
gelatin, drizzles of balsamic vinegar and a thimble dollop of ice cream, the
flavor I can't recall.
Morimoto wasn't in the house, but I'm not one of those folks who goes to
celebrity-chef type restaurants looking for snapshots. I do fall for
over-the-top dcor, however. Sure, all that Stephen Starr plastic, glowing,
color-changing, space-age crap is gimmicky. But it works on me.
Morimoto* 723
Chestnut St., Philadelphia, PA
It was blistering hot, I was in the East Village, sushi seemed appropriate
and Shima was there. I'm not a sushi expert by a long shot so in a
neighborhood with practically one place on every block, you've got to dive
in. I was perfectly content with my sushi for two and cold sake. I'm sure
there are better places in the vicinity, but that's not something worth
stressing over.
Shima* 188 Second Ave., New York, NY
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