The perception of a restaurant often obscures its true nature, and in the process scares away people who might otherwise enjoy a meal there. Morimoto is a perfect example: Its reputation, and the fact that it was hip enough to find its way to New York City, leads most people to believe that it's either (a) way to chi-chi for them or (b) out of their price range.
Thankfully, neither one of these ideas is accurate in the case of the Iron Chef's temple to all things raw and exotic. The service is surprisingly friendly and accommodating, and the price, while it can certainly soar to the stratosphere if you're not careful, is also shockingly manageable.
More often than not, Ms. Martini and I have to spend more than a Ben Franklin in order to get a decent meal. And while that was again the case this week, our dinner at Morimoto, even after tax, tip, and drinks, came to an exceptionally reasonable $109.03.
The trick to keeping costs down is to avoid the pre-meal cocktails. Sometimes this isn't easy. If your table's not yet ready when you arrive, the hostess will direct you upstairs, to the über-groovy lounge. But don't give in to her entreaties. Loiter by the hostess stand, run laps about the color-changing booths in the dining room...occupy yourself in any way you can that doesn't involve ordering any of Morimoto's specialty cocktails. They're delicious, sure, but you won't be able to stop at one. And that's when it starts to get expensive.
As soon as we were seated, we ordered the Morimoto Sake Flight ($18), one of the great booze bargains in the city. Like everything else here, its presentation was flawless in a futuristic sort of way: Three shot glasses (whose minimalist, rectilinear shapes looked nothing if not Swedish, Japanese authenticity be damned!) arrived in a neon block, shimmering provocatively. And the assortment provided an excellent demonstration of the range of flavors and textures possible with this tipple that most people just don't understand.
I had been to Morimoto before, and knew from experience that their salads were huge. So in the interest of keeping costs down, we ordered a single calamari tempura salad ($14) and asked the waiter to split it. A few minutes later, he arrived at our table bearing two large plates, each heaped with a gorgeous tangle of crunchy squid and crispy fresh greens, all of it tossed with a white miso vinaigrette. The flavors were not only deep and well-balanced, but there was a slight kick to the dish that I usually don't find in salads, and that worked beautifully here.
For entrées, we ordered the $35 chef's combination, a beautiful (and bountiful) assortment of sushi and rolls. As always, the sushi was supremely fresh, and the purity of flavor bordered on the profound. Most people tend to over-order sushi, and as a result spend more money than they have to. So for two people, the $35 combo is perfect (there's also a $55 and $75 one, but only order them if you're with a big group or training for a competitive eating contest).
We supplemented ours with the eel avocado maki ($8.50), and while we probably didn't need it-hindsight is always 20/20-it was excellent nonetheless. Plus, the smoky sweetness of the eel was a nice break from the more subtle flavors of the sushi on the combo platter.
Dessert isn't usually part of the sushi experience, but the chocolate pot de crème ($10) is worth trying. It was a not-too-sweet way to bring the meal to a close, and a nice palate-refresher after all the soy-sauce saltiness that preceded it.
Color-changing booths may not be as avant garde as they once were. And Stephen Starr's grip on the city may not be as tight as it once was. But a meal at Morimoto is still a treat. As long as you order intelligently, it is wholly possible to get out of Morimoto for just around $100. As for how cool you feel while you're there, that part is up to you.
