I lived in culinary heaven this past fall. It’s the land of delicious plenty that holds the most Michelin stars in the world. The very same nirvana that Food & Wine anointed the best restaurant city this year. Yes, I speak of Tokyo.

During my blissful three months there, I ate at 66 restaurants. I could count the “bad” meals on one finger; the “mediocre” on one hand. Exploring new eateries was so exciting that only a few favorites were reserved for repeat visits. One of those honorees was a small, stylish, local spot in my Azabu-juban neighborhood, an outpost of about a dozen restaurants called Matsugen.

My neighborhood Matsugen was a sexy, compact little spot that made the most out of its limited space. Patrons hung their coats along the bronze-colored walls before sitting around at a square bar that surrounded two busy chefs attending to a charcoal grill. We always won our fair share of curious glances as the only gai-jin in the room. The rest of the crowd ranged from local business types to young couples to the odd hooker and John. I loved how the waiters generously poured sake so that my cup overflowed into the accompanying wooden box. I was fascinated by the action at the grill and the bites that emerged: blocks of firm tofu, pounded thin, then charred; skewers of asparagus and eel; sizzling pork belly; buttery wagyu beef tataki. Tucked inside the far wall, there was a small, hidden kitchen, where cooks delicately fried tempura and rolled out delicious, wholesome soba noodles by hand.

As my time in Japan came to a close, I sadly left Matsugen behind and though I knew that I was not alone in my admiration for it, I was surprised to find out that it happens to be one of uber-chef Jean George Vongerichten’s favorite Tokyo restaurants. And just when I started to wonder when I might be able to go back to Matsugen, Matsugen came to me, courtesy of Mr. Vongerichten himself.

JGV has partnered up with the Matsushita brothers, owners of the Japanese chain, to effortlessly slip a branch into Tribeca. While the space is much more vast than my precious little Tokyo gem, it’s as authentic as if it came in a kit with directions for assembly. The room has a spare, but warm, Japanese aesthetic, with oak and ebony wood tones playing off wire mesh dividers, sectioning off areas for intimacy. There’s a long sushi prep bar; an equally lengthy communal table; and a lounge. The only leftover from 66, the spot’s former Chinese incarnation, is the fish tank swimming with arawana.
The crowd represented a keen cross-section of New Yorkers--Tribeca film types; suited-up bankers; daters; NYU brats with their parents--along with visiting Japanese professionals in-the-know. The service, and pacing, also authentically made the transition as each finely-crafted dish was presented in swift succession, one by one. But it was the cuisine that was the most spot-on, as if it were airlifted from the Tokyo kitchen.

We started with the tofu ($9), firmly creamy, with a subtle soy dashi bringing it flavor yet not muddling the terrific texture. Next, came the otoro tataki (M/P), rosy squares of seared tuna belly. We were daunted by the $48 price tag—for an appetizer—but our mouths watered at the quality the high price would bring. We were sorely disappointed, however, as the fish was too tendony and it carried a not-so-fresh fishiness. It was served attractively enough, on a plate balanced upon blackened driftwood. But we weren’t paying for its good looks.

Things picked up considerably from the sophomore course, thankfully, a tasty momentum building with each dish. Next, the best tempura ($12) I’ve found in New York arrived: light, crispy, virtually oil-free zucchini flowers, baby corn, squash, asparagus and leek. Then blocks of miso cod, sweetly shellacked, avoiding the slimy texture trap.

Soba is the main attraction here, however, and here JGV comes to the rescue of all the sad noodle heads still mourning the closing of Soho’s Honmura An. It more than adeptly fills that gaping hole, with an assortment of all types: cold, hot, soupy, sesame-laden. I want to revisit to try them all.

I did order a favorite from my Tokyo days: cold noodles ($15), milled from the center of the buckwheat husk, firm yet not annoyingly al dente, and toothsome enough to stand up to a rich, hot duck soup as a dipper. The hot broth hugged the cold noodles, and the combination was sublime.

Sashimi ($50 for 16 pieces) that far outshone the earlier otoro--a tender tuna, buttery salmon, mellow fluke and pleasantly chewy giant clam--was the penultimate course before a refreshing assortment of sorbet: lemongrass, peach/melon, cherry, and passionfruit. A lovely ending to a perfectly transporting meal. Who says you can’t go home again? During my meal in Matsugen, I was revisiting my old Tokyo neighborhood after all.

Matsugen is located at 241 Church St., at Leonard St.; 212-925-0202.

—Kathleen Squires

Andrea Strong