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“Soto”


  Occasion: Cuisine: Area: Cost: Rating:
  Night Out Asian West Village Moderate Great

My phone was ringing. It was Stacey, and she was lost. “I’m on 6th Avenue, near West 4th, and I don’t see the restaurant,” she said. “Where is it?” “It’s there,” I said. “You must be standing right in front of it. But I’ll be there in a minute and we’ll find it together.” I hopped out of the cab and found Stacey standing two doors down from Soto, a signless, inconspicuous temple of sushi. “Here it is,” I said, pointing to the naked storefront behind her. She turned around and all of a sudden realized it had been right in front of her. “I can’t believe I was standing right next to it, I barely noticed it.” On a noisy, steamy, overdeveloped block of 6th Avenue, flanked by a WA-MA bank and Gray’s Papaya, Soto almost vanishes into the line of storefronts. But once you stop and look, you’ll see it emerge.

Its façade is a sheet of glass that’s backed by a cream-colored wall cut out with asymmetrical shapes that reveal a simple dining room and sushi bar. A hostess with a sharp black bob may be standing with her face centered in one of those shapes. She’s one of a team of beautiful Japanese women who will attend to you, quietly filling sake glasses, and shepherding plates of glossy, practically quivering fish to a row of closely spaced tables. You’ll walk inside and be seated at one of those tables. And then you will begin a journey of—to quote Will Ferrell being James Lipton—scrumptulescent sushi feasting. Indeed, despite the trouble you may have locating this place, I’d recommend you keep a keen eye out and immediately arrange for you, and anyone else who claims to love the Japanese way, to plant your bottoms in one of those seats at one of those tables, or even at the tall chairs at the sushi bar. You could sit Indian-style on the floor for all I care, just go. It’s an exquisite experience.

The chef of this accidental sushi hideaway is a fellow by the name of Sotohiro Kosugi. He is a small and thin man with a thick head of dark hair tucked under a soft white cap. While I wouldn’t throw him in a boxing ring against Rocky Balboa, he exudes a certain amount of physical strength from behind his sushi stage. You get the feeling he’d have no problem dropping and giving you a hundred push-ups after filleting a tuna in under a minute with one hand tied behind his bac ... [more, click below]

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