masaharu morimoto is the original iron chef who has come a long way from his childhood in hiroshima, japan, where he studied sushi making and the art of kaiseki (seasonal tasting menu meal) . after he moved to manhattan, he was hired by nobu matsuhisa to open nobu in tribeca. i believe that nobu, the sensational miso cod trend setting sushi temple, along with the food network’s iron chef hit show, was the gateway to the mass acceptance and current ubiquity of sushi in america. supermarkets, neighborhood delis and grocery stores all sell containers of sushi and maki rolls next to the yogurt and soda. it reminds me of the movie blade runner in which los angeles has become so asian-ized that japanese food in urban streets is the normal daily grub. in new york that future has arrived.
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For my birthday, Eva took me to Morimoto’s!!! We got to sit at the omakase bar, which only seats 8 and got to watch all the chefs in action- including the iron chef himself, Morimoto. We got there for the first seating at 6:30. We had to take our shoes off when we got to the omakase bar.. which was really oddly set up because we basically had to climb on top of our seats and then lower ourselves into them. Trust me, there was no sleek way of getting in or out.
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I'm glad I went to Morimoto finally on Satuday night with my foodie friend Susan, because now I'll never have to go back there again. We ordered the 9-course table Omakase, or Chef's tasting menu, which was $120 per person, and it lasted just around three hours.
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Night 10 (yes night 9 is missing, it was a late evening impromptu that was of course both creative and fantastic but I didn't have the camera and my senses were well dulled by the time we walked in, so not much to report). Whether or not you count the in-between sushi pieces along the way, I think we are in the area of about a century of dishes without repeat here is the porn
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Morimoto got panned in the New York Times. One star after spending the amount of time and energy in a space that large must be painful to the owners. It would be to me.
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My first Morimoto experience in Philadelphia was unforgettable [#17 on this page]. He joined us at our table after dinner and started talking about the World Cup which was happening at the time. Four years later, soccer fans are getting ready for Germany and I was sitting yet again inside a Morimoto restaurant.
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"I made reservations for us to eat at a fun place. I hope it's awesome. Save February 16th for a fun date." This is the voicemail I got about a month ago from Swimster. I won't complain about that. As soon as I put my phone down I started guessing to myself where I thought we were going to be eating. I had heard about a new Japanese restaurant opening, run by one of the Iron Chef extraordinaires himself Morimoto. So I threw that one out there for kicks.
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Night 8, still no repeats and finally something from the show: vanilla ice with lobster sauce (reduced lobster tamale on vanilla ice cream, pictured further down)
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Morimoto - the thick-jawed samaurai in Iron Chef. Such things don’t really impress me but I read some very good reviews on this new restaurant. Fair enough, set aside $300 and give it a shot.
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I thought it might be fitting to begin this review of Morimoto with a quote from its owner, the Philadelphia restaurateur, Stephen Starr. “Morimoto is going to be far more interesting than any restaurant New York has seen,” Mr. Starr told Florence Fabricant, in an article that ran in the New York Times on January 25th.
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I love "Iron Chef," the real, Japanese "Iron Chef." I watch it regularly, I love to impersonate Outa and Dr. Yukio Hattori, and I can tell you how many drinks you should take if the featured ingredient comes down from the rafters as opposed to up from the podium. I have hypothesized with friends what would happen if the choir of angels and Ditka entered kitchen stadium and took on Kenichi, or if there were a special all-star version and Vin Diesel, Mr. T and Chuck Norris took on Sakai, but wait... Sakai is being assisted by a wild jackal and a rabid wolf AND the theme ingredient is Kobe veal, one special calf raised only for the "rebirth special" of the greatest cooking show of all time.
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When does conventional confidence bleed into the grander realm of what the Greeks called hubris? Perhaps when a restaurateur (i.e. Stephen Starr) from a smaller, less glamorous culinary environment (i.e. Philadelphia) enters a city with many big, theatrical Japanese restaurants (i.e. Matsuri, Megu, En Japanese Brasserie, Nobu 57) and says that his own entry in this field “is going to be far more interesting than any restaurant New York has seen.”
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