Japanese – Page 3 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Inakaya

231 West 40th Street between Seventh and Eighth
212/354.2195
$65 for two, with drinks, without tip
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Inakaya is a good place for two kinds of dates: one, an awkward first date when neither have to nervously talk but still have a good time; two, a long-term couple date when almost anything can slip by and forgiven by the end of the night. For the first couple, they can’t really have a quiet conversation while dining at Inakaya because it’s a robatayaki, also known as robata, or an open grill where every few minutes a chorus of waiters and chefs shout and repeat customers’ orders. For the long-timers, they may be amused with the very lively setting and shrug off another date night out.

The Dr. and I belong to the latter. We were to meet midtown for dinner to eat sushi, but we didn’t want to spend too much money. I was at the new Muji store inside the New York Times building and noticed Inakaya next door. It was only a week old when we visited, but it was already packed with Japanese salarymen who perhaps wanted to support the establishment’s efforts. There were a few families as well and the younger kids seemed to enjoy all the screaming. Some of them even participated in the mochi-making presentation by the window where a giant pestle is used to mush up the soy.

The robatayaki‘s origin leads back to the city of Sendai in the northeast region of Japan. The chefs sit on their shins wearing ninja-like socks surrounded by carefully-selected fresh ingredients. At Inakaya, it’s orchestrated how they kneel and reach out for the produce and they use the same fluid moves to serve the finished dishes. Long wooden paddles are used so that the chefs can reach you from across the grill while the rest of your order is served by kimono-wearing waiters.

The food can’t get any better for something across the Port Authority bus terminal. The oysters came from the west coast, and even though they lightly touched the grill, they still tasted like the ocean. The day’s sashimi special came from Tsukiji Market that morning but I don’t remember it being out of our budget. We unfortunately skipped the beautiful marbled meats that were displayed in front of us–we weren’t in the mood for red meat–but we couldn’t say no to the buttery uni.

It’s nice to know that there’s a place to go to to escape the mediocrity of Hell’s Kitchen and the awfulness of fast-food kingdom at Times Square. Now I know where to eat if I ever find myself at the bus station or the AMC movie theater next door even if it means putting up with a little bit more of noise.

Soba Totto

211 East 43rd Street off Third Avenue
212/557.8200
about $80 for two people, with sake, with tip
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I don’t need any horoscope to tell me that I’ve been living a lifestyle I can’t afford, but it was right there on OK! Magazine, a copy I picked up after someone left it in the subway. I have been mooching off the Dr. the last couple of weeks, what with my unemployment insurance delayed and all, and feeling bad that he’s been spending for two. Last week, he wanted to eat soup and he invited me to come with him. How could I say no?

We sat at the bar and watched the place fill up. The kitchen in front of us went up in smokes whenever the guys grilled some yakitoris. We started with a few: bacon-wrapped asparagus, chicken knee bones (mmm, soft cartilage), some very livery riba and a plate of charred green peppers. A small bottle of a super dry sake helped us washed everything down.

But what we really came for is Soba Totto’s soba. I had the duck, kamo nanban, while the Dr. tried the mushroom. They were so different from each other: his broth had a subtle but earthy taste and mine was straight-up rich in flavor. The noodles easily gave, the duck melted in my mouth and the mushrooms provided some texture. Neither needed extra condiments–they were perfect the way they were served. Our bowls didn’t look like much, but sometimes soba is all you need even if someone else offers to pick up the tab.

Curry-Ya

214 East 10th Street between First and Second Avenues
866/602-8779
about $25 for two, with drinks, without tip
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Yohshoku, or Western dishes adapted to fit the Japanese taste, kept me alive when I was younger and wasn’t making a lot of or any money. In West L.A., I loved Curry House because I could get a hefty lunch for $5. When I was in Tokyo, I ate a lot of gyuudon and tonkatsu (beef bowls and deep-fried pork cutlets) because they were the most affordable for us kids with a tight budget. Believe it or not, back then I spent my money on design books instead of food.

So when Curry-Ya opened last year, I was excited to go even for the sake of reliving those days. True to form, my kareh raisu, the Japanese-style curry so far removed from its inspiration, tasted like how I remember them: rich, gooey, salty, and just super tasty. Unfortunately, I’m older now and I paid a higher price digesting it afterwards.

I still appreciate good design and Curry-Ya has that style I would like to adapt if ever I opened my own restaurant: marble bar, less than twenty stools up against it, open kitchen. I’m not any younger, but I’m back to having less money because of this economy and I can see more Curry-Ya in my future.

Matsugen

241 Church Street at Leonard
212/925.0202
$75 for tasting menu, without drinks, without tip
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66 was a long time ago but entering Matsugen reminded me of those long lunch hours I used to take to eat at an expensive restaurant and only pay lunch prices. I had a delicate dim sum meal back then, even before Chinatown Brasserie opened, and it cost triple what I would have paid at Jing Fong. No screaming waiters, though, and the white tablecloths remained white even after several dumplings and shumais.

Contrary to popular belief, Jean-Georges Vongerichten is not the chef at Matsugen. Put together the Matsushita brothers wanting their first U.S. mainland restaurant and Jean-Georges needing to replace 66 and you have a high-end Japanese restaurant in a beautifully-designed Richard Meier TriBeCa space. It’s more chic than Honmura An (ahh, more memories!) and it’s more serene than EN Brasserie.

Is it expensive? Definitely, especially if you’re used to Sobaya like me. But if you want to impress, it’s a good place to go, not just for the soba noodles made in-house, but also for sushi, sashimi and even shabu-shabu (also considerably more expensive than Shabu Tatsu’s). If you spend some time looking at the menu, you can get away with paying less than a hundred dollars for two. You won’t be achingly full, but you’ll get the idea why a big-time chef like Jean-Georges would be satisfied with only being behind the scenes on this one.

If you don’t want to be bothered with the several pages of Japanese food with detailed descriptions, the $75 tasting menu when we visited included uni with yuzu jelly–a beautifully assembled starter that’s as creamy as the freshest sea urchin around–a sushi plate, a lobster salad, a bowl of hot soba and a dessert. I highly recommend the hot soba in duck soup and the hot soba with Japanese yam. The noodles yield freely and the broth is so clean: refined Japanese food has never been better.

Hakata Tonton

61 Grove Street off Seventh Avenue South
212/242.3699
$30 each for four, with a bottle of sake, with tip
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I love pigs’ feet. There I said it. I’ve caramelized them before with a tart salad and I’ve grilled them to serve at a summer barbecue party. Hakata Tonton worships the tonsoku. Hakata Tonton and I were made for each other.

The grilled version is so gelatinous, succulent and generously fatty, you can’t help but suck every part until you’re just spitting out the small bones. The hot pot comes with tofu, dumplings and pork belly, as if the trotters weren’t enough to make the broth rich and tasty.

There were four of us, hungry after a few glasses of wine and beer, so we didn’t just stay with the pork but also ordered the chicken wings in sweet soy sauce and the beef short ribs. We threw in the yellowtail sashimi salad in there for a palate cleanser. The yuzu paste and ponzu sauce were just perfect for slathering and dipping because they provided the right amount of kick in each dish. (When I was in Vancouver, I bought a few jars of yuzu paste from the Japanese grocery store to take home with me.)

A few beer and sake bottles later, we left full and a little tipsy. Our wallets weren’t empty and we were happy to be escorted out with free Pez candies from the waitress.