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| - We've been before and were never disappointed with their omakase offering. This time, however, some changes and one semi-disaster took us to 2-star territory.
Maybe it's just what people are hyping these days in the high-end dining biz, but the reliance on truffle oil was off-putting. We enjoy the subtle flavors of Japanese food, and this, while vibrant, was sufficiently strong to last into the next course. Same with the large-ish portion of fois gras (yeah, you can't get it in Califrnia, but that doesn't mean I'm hankering for a large amount of such a potent product). That's two stars down from 5.
As we make it to the home stretch, we get the nigiri course. I trade a piece of hamachi (Betty's favorite) for her piece of maguro. Never having had reason to doubt the skills of the sushi crew here, I popped a piece of tuna in my gob that was already shuffling off to its reward -- you get that sort of ammonia aftertaste effect. Sure enough, we both sniff the remaining maguro, and it's whiffy. AT A PLACE THIS GOOD, THIS SHOULD NEVER HAPPEN.
We called this to the attention of our server (friendly, effective) and after a bit, a manager (?) comes by with another piece of tuna (large piece, by gar, beautiful to behold), but with that first bit already seeking repatriation with the real world, I just can't countenance another attempt. I poke around the desert, but most of it remains; I just have zero appetite.
Now, even at Starbucks, if something goes slightly wrong in prep, you don't pay for it, and you'll probably be graced by one of their "have another on us" cards. That wasn't the case here... leaving an even worse impression by paying full boat for what should have been, but wasn't, a wonderful meal.
The saving grace is the excellent staff, those dishes that weren't truffle oil or fois gras based and a nice sake tasting flight.
One utterly unrelated positive thing, while we're sitting in the front of the place, staring at hordes of humanity wandering by, we spot Tom Calicchio (out of "Top Chef" and owner of Craftsteak next door) zipping by.
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