Eating Our Way Through New York Part 3, Night of the Ninja

Finally it came time for the dinner surprise that Adam was dying to reveal and I was curious to find out. Arriving at a store front that at a glance could easily be missed, it all came together. The comments, the teasing and subtle hints that Adam had been dropping for practically a month now all made sense as we stood in front of a door with a little black sign that read, Ninja New York.

We had first heard about Ninja last spring when we saw a Travel Channel spot on a concept restaurant that combines food with theater and also tries to scare the crap out of you. I remember saying back then that I wanted to check the place out and now here we were, in the dimly lit basement space that is Ninja, making our way through a dark tunnel to our table, waiting for an assassin to jump out and attack.

Fashioned after an ancient Japanese fishing village, the inner sanctum was all rock and wood planks and sunken pits, and the booths, hidden behind shoji screens, were like intimate caves for two.

Ninja offers an ala carte menu in addition to a series of tasting menus that all come printed on a parchment scroll. Each named after famous samurai, the tasting menus range from three to five courses and are designed to delight the senses with flavor and "Ninja magic," as well as test the stamina.

Since Adam and I are both the "go big or go home" type, we told our server, who introduced himself with a slight drawl as the Texas Ninja, that we would each the largest tasting. Several of our courses required a choice between two dishes, so in order to avoid missing out on anything, in those instances Adam picked one and I got the other.

As I mentioned before, Ninja is big on theatrics, so when my first dish, tuna and beet sashimi with tuna confit and ginger sauce, arrived I had to draw a sword from below the bowl of confit with a loud battle cry. Doing so must have released a chip of dry ice as a fog began to bubble from the dish and spread across the table.


Our second first course, a cake of fois gras and pressed taro, had an accompanying sweet ponzu sauce that was caramelized table side over a small flame.


I tend to be rather picky about my fois gras, but the preparation was not only a treat for the eyes, but one for the taste buds as well. The sashimi was also quite good although I must admit that as I am a huge beet fan, I ate more of it than Adam did.

Next, we were both served a plate, or shall I say plank, of nigiri. The usual tuna, salmon, red snapper and salmon roe was joined by the unusual choice of cod and skipjack. Strong to the point of being fishy, skipjack is certainly not for those squeamish about raw fish, and if I ever encounter it at another restaurant, I am not likely to order it again.


The sushi was followed by an oven roasted black cod, again smoking with the aid of some dry ice, and a generous portion of thinly sliced wagyu encased in a phyllo "tree stump" that I got to break with a karate chop. Hi-ya!


As much as we had enjoyed everything up to this point, the cod was a major disappointment. Not only did it look like one of the ten plagues, but it tasted as if it were swimming in ketchup.

While we pushed the cod aside, I discovered that the wagyu more than made up for it. Served with rice, zucchini, enoki mushrooms and fried potato straws, it was as velvety and buttery as you'd expect wagyu to be.

While we giggled and nibbled our way through the evening and I polished off the wagyu, our ninja returned and asked if we were ready for our entrées. At first I laughed, thinking he was kidding, hadn't we just finished our entrées? Boy was I wrong.

Generally speaking, when I think of a tasting, I imagine course after course of scaled down portions, but when our entrées arrived, they were full-sized, no messing around entrées.

The miso basted grilled lamb chops with yuzu butter became a literal bonfire as our server (excuse me, ninja) set them ablaze, which I have to admit was pretty cool, but the ribeye, where it lacked in pyrotechnics, excelled in shear size. After three courses, although it really felt more like five, a 22 oz steak is unimaginable and frankly impractical. Without the will to try a single bite, we asked for a doggie bag.


Dessert at this point was equally out of the question, so a glass or two of sake took its place.

Although, sadly, no one had jumped out to scare us as we had expected, we did strangely get a magic show at the end of our meal. Still, the real surprise came when I visited the restroom.

An unimpressive washroom at first glance, I soon became enthralled once I sat down to do my business. Each of the stalls is equipped with a washlet, which has got to be the coolest invention ever. Without going into too much detail, let's just say the heated seat is just the beginning. Even if you're not impressed by an imposing, firey, five course meal or a couple of magic tricks, you will be amazed by the bathrooms.

Oh, and did I mention that if you ask nicely, your ninja will give you stickers, too?

For the more serious-minded diner, Ninja is perhaps too gimmicky and showy, but Adam knows me well enough to know I eat this stuff up.