I had to know, so I set out to do some research -- at my favorite message boards on the Net and at Nobu, chef Matsuhisa's celebrated New York restaurant.
The Man
Reading up on Matsuhisa, I found out that he was raised in Tokyo, trained as a sushi chef, and began experimenting with South American ingredients during a stint in Peru. He left there to open a restaurant in Anchorage, of all places.
With the wind chill, Anchorage can hit 60 below in winter, and in summer the endless hours of sun can drive you crazy. Suddenly, Matsuhisa seemed unconventional, a risk-taker.
Then the Anchorage place burned down. Not to be deterred, Nobu moved to Beverly Hills, where in 1987 he opened the immensely successful Matsuhisa. Since then, he has opened branches in Aspen, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, London, Malibu, and Tokyo.
But the opening that had the greatest impact was in 1994, when Matsuhisa joined forces with actor Robert De Niro and restaurateur Drew Nieporent to start up Nobu in New York City's intensely hip, industrial-chic neighborhood of TriBeCa.
The Hype
Food-obsessed New Yorkers, celebrities, and even other chefs rave about Nobu's cuisine. My friends who had tried it, loved it. Those who hadn't were still trying to get reservations. Since I grew up in India, I'm always looking for thoughtfully spiced and aromatic food, bursting with fresh, differentiated flavors. Maybe Nobu's as good as they say, I thought. Maybe it's worth it. So when, out of the blue, a friend asked whether I wanted to splurge on Nobu, I jumped at the suggestion. (Be warned: we booked a reservation three weeks in advance for a Tuesday night, so call at least a month ahead to be safe.)
Tuesday night -- three weeks later -- we walked into a whimsically elegant room -- best described as woodsy organic with urban-architectural flourishes. We were seated by the window, where I settled into a velvety lime-green banquette that looked out into a wittily designed room containing sawed-off trunks of birch trees blossoming into something more like two-by-fours than branches, and a sleek wall of pebbles curving against the room's centerpiece: a sushi bar lit from within.
Two Ways to Order
There are two ways to order a meal at Nobu: choosing individual portions or opting for the omakase, or chef's special. Take a risk and try the omakase for an inspired blend of raw and cooked fish.
The price tag starts at $70 per person and goes up to $200. The more you spend, the more luxurious and rare the ingredients. A hundred dollars each bought us eight courses, most of which were first-rate.
The Review
Toro tartare -- rare tuna topped with osetra caviar and infused with palate-cleansing wasabi sauce -- launched the meal. The nervy, wild flavors that followed convinced me that Nobu is indeed a genius. Kumamoto oysters, crowned with vividly orange sea urchin and sprinkled with fried leeks, ginger, sesame seed, and nutty shavings of crispy, melt-in-your-mouth seaweed, were deliriously good. The dramatic and complex orchestration of flavors and textures was, well, Shakespearean. It was the kind of thing that might have made Lady Macbeth a little nicer.
Our less lyrical third course was finely sculpted aji (dried mackerel) ceviche -- straightforward but respectable. Kampachi sashimi salad followed. Don't expect to find this intensely buttery fish, a member of the yellowtail family, in your average sushi joint. A fun touch: Curved like a footbridge over the kampachi was a dried-and-fried sardine chip.
Our waitress seemed to take no vicarious pleasure in our dining, but served each course impassively, slightly irked at what probably seemed like two overcurious women who had never seen fish before. Not surprising, because we asked too many questions and wrote down all her responses on a piece of paper as she was talking. We did this with each course and sometimes asked for more details. But the food more than made up for her matter-of-fact style.
Branzino -- Mediterranean sea bass -- perfectly absorbed the explosive flavors and colors of the tart pomegranate-and-mango salsa pooling around it. We sopped up everything we could and picked at the fruit with our chopsticks.
We crescendoed into our sixth course with Nobu's signature dish, black cod with miso. This ecstasy-inducing cut of sweet broiled black cod with miso sauce was topped with a slab of rich, gamey foie gras. The presentation was striking: The cod was served on a dark-green shiso leaf with a magenta flourish of pickled onion. Next came, ho-hum, only sushi. No sweet-or-spicy tricks, no bells and whistles. That said, the immensely fine, if unimaginative, sushi included toro, shad, kampachi, white salmon, and snapper.
The finale was a warm chocolate soufflé served in a bento box (a small lacquered container in which Japanese food is often served). Topped with a scoop of green-tea ice cream and drizzled with a pungent, vanilla-flavored sauce, the dessert had an appealing spiciness. The warm-cold trick worked, as did the blending of hard and soft textures. The delicate, well-balanced spices cut the sweetness and added some intrigue.
Was it worth it? I'll put it this way: If Nobu had been around in Shakespeare's England, to be or not to be might not be the question, nor even to eat or not to eat. It might be: "How soon can I get another reservation?"
Nobu. 105 Hudson St., off Franklin St., tel. 212/219-0500; 212/219-8095 for same-day reservations. fax 212/219-1441. Reservations essential. AE, DC, MC, V. Closed Sun. No lunch.
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