Strangely, none of this food finds its way onto Morimoto’s omakase menu, which costs $120 and is worth every penny. By definition, of course, omakase changes according to the chef’s whim, but the one I enjoyed included steamy pots of freshly made tofu larded with truffles, portions of rose-colored hairy crab flown in from Hokkaido, and tastings of fugu salted with monkfish liver or batter-fried in a style the chef describes as “Kentucky Fried Fugu.” The desserts on the regular menu include a soufflé ingeniously flavored with red miso, and a chiffon-colored square of tofu “cheesecake” decked with shavings of chocolate. But none of these items had quite the impact of the final act of Morimoto’s omakase. This was a simple bite of persimmon, flash-frozen in liquid nitrogen and served with a tiny silver spoon. It was as hard as a walnut but melted, as you ate it, to a kind of smooth, fruity sweetness. The result was subtle, ingenious, and refreshing, which is to say it was about as different from your average Godzilla-restaurant dining experience as it could possibly be.

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