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some people think they owe me dinners, will do one here
Soto
There is no sign on the little restaurant’s front door. Inside, the austere, whitewashed room seats only 42 people. And night after night, you will find the proprietor himself, Sotohiro Kosugi, bent behind his sushi bar with his two loyal assistants, working with a kind of surgeon’s intensity in his spectacles and white sushi cap. Kosugi is a third-generation sushi chef, from a small town in northern Japan that he likes to say “has more fish than people.” For eleven years, he labored in Atlanta, where his cooking won a wide following among diners in that sushi-starved region. By New York standards, however, the sushi at Chef Kosugi’s restaurant is good but not fabulous. The raw fish is flown in from around the globe five times a week, and it’s available in the usual rainbow of esoteric and pricey varieties. Take a seat at the polished, blonde-wood bar and sample semi-fatty “chu-toro” tuna from Ecuador, fresh Amber Jack from Hawaii, and pearly white Toyama shrimp from Japan, all served in the decorous, classically small Tokyo style. More notable at Soto, though, are the raw and gently cooked seafood dishes that emerge from the kitchen in a blizzard of inventive, unlikely, and often quite delicious ways. — Adam Platt (NYMag)