Yes people – it is Restaurant Week in New York – well Restaurant Fortnight to be exact – hmmm I wonder if anyone else has noticed the obvious marketing cock-up – ah well, welcome to two weeks of hype for visiting some of the over-priced yet dearly coveted restaurants this city has to offer.

Being a sucker of mass hysteria – I joined friends at the greatly touted Japanese stop in town – Megu – 62 Thomas Street, New York. Check out the website – (well don’t check it out if you use Firefox, it stuffs things up – hmmm maybe an omen of things to come).

We arrived on New York’s coldest damn day this winter – at a balmy 2F my toosh was shaking when I arrived hahaha. So it was a relief to be ushered into a warm flight of stairs and up to the reception area. Shame the welcoming committee was rude and I was poked and prodded by reception herders as though I was the runt in the Kobe beef collection. That welcome aside, we then entered what has to be one of the stunning dining rooms in the city. Hats off to the designers, the carved Buddha, the white leather seats and booths, the warmth of the staff calling welcomes to you as you entered – top marks for that.

There is one thing about hype – it either heightens your expectations or it numbs them. I was ready to be wowed. There is nothing better than Japanese food prepared with true artistry and served with genuine warmth. Alas no. Friendly they were, sure. Really nice food, sure. But guys – you are meant to make me jump with surprise, either through innovation or through the simple purity of food technique and execution – especially when you set yourselves up as one of the great kitchens. Didn’t see much of that. The deep fried oysters were juicy, but heavy, no light tempura here. The Kobe beef balls with foie gras, deep-fried (I’m seeing a theme here), were tasty, but heavy. And the scallops with a foie gras and teriyaki sauce, well, were scallops with sauce.

Bottom line – in a place like this, when you have to send your appetizers back because they weren’t what you ordered, then have to wait until everyone else at the table has finished their mains before yours even arrives – well, to me it is just as bad as someone spitting in your hamburger before they serve it at the fast-food outlet (at least they would have a justification – they are underpaid!).

I always think, is this a place I would take my closest friend to, full of excitement and mystery, to make him feel wonderful – aaah no. Shame though. I feel like a hamburger, with a slosh of integrity.

Categories: New York
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