Let’s say you were starting a sushi all-star team.
You’d want the executive chef from a little Japanese seafood outfit named Masa.
And the Bar Masa guy: yeah, you’d want him, too.
Then... well, you’d be done.
Also: you’d have this place...
Bow respectfully to Neta, a jaw-dropping sushi sanctum run by a couple of rogue Masa chefs, slated to open next Friday in Greenwich Village.
What you don’t want to do here: order. Just grab a seat at the long communal maple counter, glance into the wide-open, wall-free kitchen and nod to one of the knife-wielding master chefs as if to say: “Swing for the fences.”
Which in this case means he’ll size you up and deliver an omakase feast filled with the exact same sashimi you’d find at Masa. Expect caviar-topped toro tartare as part of a knee-bucklingly smooth tuna lineup, along with small plates like teacup-steamed razor-clam risotto and soy-braised veal. (Just in case the raw fish perfection gets monotonous.)
You’ll come here anytime the yellowtail shakes strike, and with anyone who could properly appreciate it. Just know there’s nowhere to hide. It’s stark granite floors, blank stucco walls, the counter and a handful of tables. All of which will highlight the cross-room psychological showdown between you and your sushi virtuosos.
Just remember, chefs can smell fear.
You’d want the executive chef from a little Japanese seafood outfit named Masa.
And the Bar Masa guy: yeah, you’d want him, too.
Then... well, you’d be done.
Also: you’d have this place...
Bow respectfully to Neta, a jaw-dropping sushi sanctum run by a couple of rogue Masa chefs, slated to open next Friday in Greenwich Village.
What you don’t want to do here: order. Just grab a seat at the long communal maple counter, glance into the wide-open, wall-free kitchen and nod to one of the knife-wielding master chefs as if to say: “Swing for the fences.”
Which in this case means he’ll size you up and deliver an omakase feast filled with the exact same sashimi you’d find at Masa. Expect caviar-topped toro tartare as part of a knee-bucklingly smooth tuna lineup, along with small plates like teacup-steamed razor-clam risotto and soy-braised veal. (Just in case the raw fish perfection gets monotonous.)
You’ll come here anytime the yellowtail shakes strike, and with anyone who could properly appreciate it. Just know there’s nowhere to hide. It’s stark granite floors, blank stucco walls, the counter and a handful of tables. All of which will highlight the cross-room psychological showdown between you and your sushi virtuosos.
Just remember, chefs can smell fear.
