At its heart, food is love. So when I have to pay for dinner, rather than cooking for myself or dining at a friend’s invitation, I feel engaged in the world’s oldest profession. With haute-falutin’ places like Gordon Ramsay telling diners they need to get in and get out as quickly as possible, so that the next john, er customer, can sit down, it’s no wonder that meals eaten out are starting to make me feel, well, a little dirty.
In New York, everyone is a foodie john. We’re all just hoping that when the meal is over and it’s time to pay, the experience was worth it and, hell, we might even want to go back for more sometime. But if we’re not satisfied, if we wanted the food to touch us somewhere new, and it didn’t, our only recourse is to lope out into the night, wander to the next gourmet brothel, pick a sexy dish and try again.
When I went to Hell’s Kitchen to try Kyotofu, I found what every john is secretly hoping for from every courtesan: I found love. In the dark night, Kyotofu’s warm glow cast on Ninth Ave.’s sidewalks lured me from a block away. As I made my way past the antechamber bar and kitchen, I entered the womb-like dining room, set at a perfect temperature, so the air around me was a cocoon of warmth.
Sushi bar chefs have a tradition of omakase, where diners entrust themselves to a menu of the chef’s devising. Kyotofu borrows the concept for their Kaiseki menu, which normally refers to a Japanese tea service meal, but here means a three course dessert tasting—which can (and should) be paired with sake for an extra charge ($15/$26).
Immaculate dishes are served quietly to the table, most also available à la carte. Original Sweet Tofu ($7), topped with black sugar sauce and dried apricot, rid me forever of the notion that tofu is not dessert. Texture is handled with great care here, and this creamy tofu beats the pants off desserts that have the benefit of dairy.
Next came a sampler with sansho-pepper tofu cheesecake ($9), rice okayu ($9) and a small chocolate cake only on the Kaiseke. Each dish resided on an entirely different part of my palate. The sake was light and crisp, cleansing my taste buds between bites.
After petit fours and a cube of mango gelée, I felt comfortable, satiated and unready to leave. I felt taken care of. I had put myself in the chef’s hands—and was not just separated from my money as quickly as possible. Given Kyotofu’s extremely reasonable prices, that would be a difficult feat anyway. The staff went beyond perfunctory politeness and made me feel as if the womb room was their family dining room.
Repeated visits have cemented my faith in this new relationship with a partner from far away Japan. The cheese plate ($11), composed with care, had three selections each paired with the sliced fruit or a biscuit, two tiny pomegranates confirming the dish was assembled with care. I also tried the Black Sesame Sweet Tofu ($8), which came with tea syrup that heightened the flavors of a dish perfectly balancing the textures of smooth tofu with crisp little sesame seeds. The Kyotofu cocktail ($9) achieves a similar feat, blending raspberry with basil so that the latter’s taste is lost in the former; the drink is brightened by the green leaves within.
Clearly Ritsuko Yamaguchi takes pride in her restaurant’s dishes. But well beyond pride, perhaps beyond typical Western fare, there lies an intense and quiet passion to her food. Although it satisfies the tongue, it goes far beyond that to satisfy something much deeper.
Kyotofu
705 9th Ave. (betw. W. 48th & 49th Sts.)
212-974-6012
