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With its precious red lanterns and blond-wood tables topped with bright-green bamboo shoots, this petite Japanese restaurant sits delicately amid the blustery eateries of student-thronged West 3rd Street. While many of these joints cater to a backpack-toting demographic low on funds and expectations, Masamoto doesn’t stoop to filling just beer-fueled bellies. It turns out respectable sushi, such as the sassy mango roll, whose mellow sweetness gives way to the salty crunch of shrimp tempura, and the salmon roe, each slippery fish egg a briny burst of sea on the tongue. For a meaty alternative, you can play chef with shabu shabu, which invites you to spear raw, paper-thin slices of beef and, in the Japanese translation, “swish, swish” them in a table-side pot of boiling broth. “Fabulous fun ensues!” the menu claims. Slurp enough Lilliputian cups of hot sake, and it sure does. Add pillowy tofu, then heap on the earthy blend of sesame oil, diced garlic, and sea salt, the tastiest of the so-so sauces. On the way out, pause by the good-luck gold cat with the big painted eyes and battery-powered waving paw. After that second round of sake, it helps to hedge your bets. — AnneLise Sorensen

Mango paradise roll, $11.95; salmon roe, $3.50; shabu shabu beef, $14.95