The Office Of Mr. Moto

Mr. Moto was a gourmand and art connoisseur. In 1853, he accompanied Commodore Mathew Perry on a voyage to Japan. He took notes on gastronomy and collected artifacts. He also, definitely, did not exist.

The Office of Mr. Moto provides that elaborate backstory, and we get it. Every restaurant has a gimmick. At Sushi on Me, it’s chefs who tell you to “enjoy your fucking food,” and at Lilia, it’s agnolotti that occasionally sells out, despite no interruptions to the agnolotti supply chain.

The gimmick at this speakeasy-style East Village spot, hidden behind an unmarked entrance with a secret keypad, is more elaborate than most—but it doesn’t play a huge role in the actual dining experience. Once you settle in for your $195, 21-course meal, you’ll find that this is just a pleasant, friendly, upper-tier omakase place that provides good value and a few curveballs, the first of which is getting in the door.

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

Due to Mr. Moto’s size—a few tables and a short chef’s counter—and dedication to the bit, reservations are claimed as soon as they're released online. If you manage to snag one (your best bet is the waitlist), you’ll then need to decipher a cryptic email with a hidden passcode. Depending on how many seasons of Sherlock you've finished, this could take between one and five minutes.

The pageantry is fun, and it’s what sets this place apart, but once you listen to a host’s solemn recap of Mr. Moto’s life and achievements, the theater abruptly ends. After that, you’ll find yourself in a mellow little room with antique knickknacks and a twinkling soundtrack—compliments of a player piano hidden in a waiting room down below—as you begin a marathon of a meal with a few interesting highlights and enough sheer volume to guarantee a good time.

Slightly undersized and lightly dressed nigiri account for 15 of the 21 courses, and they’re what you’ll remember best. The fish here changes frequently, but you can expect a few uncommon finds, in addition to plenty of usual suspects. You’ll get your uni, toro, and torched kinmedai, but also things like fatty blackthroat seaperch and baby cuttlefish with a bouncy, creamy texture that you’ll chase for days afterward, chewing on gummy sharks and hair ties to recapture the feeling.

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

The staff will offer to add more rice to your pieces if you want more food, but that’s not how you want to fill up. Minimally seasoned and not quite warm, the rice is the weakest link of the meal.

If you obsess over little details like that, take your $195 elsewhere. Mr. Moto is a special-occasion restaurant for people who like dragging their friends to escape rooms just as much as they enjoy consuming caviar-topped tuna. The gimmick wears off quick, but that's probably for the best. Thinly sliced cuttlefish is significantly more compelling than any fictional backstory.

Food Rundown

photo credit: The Office of Mr. Moto

Omakase

If you opt for the standard 21-course omakase (as opposed to the $225 Modernity Menu with "modern and innovative flavors"), your meal will begin with a few small bites, such as salty, crunchy tempura-fried squid, and chawanmushi accessorized with shiso and uni. Next, you’ll get a piece of pressed sushi—good, but unimportant—followed by the main event: 15 pieces of nigiri made with whatever fish is currently on hand. Past selections have included red gurnard, kombu-cured fluke, vinegary gizzard shad, shima-aji with sour plum paste, and marshmallow-soft seared barracuda. Most pieces come dressed and seasoned, with plenty of yuzu in the mix. You’ll finish with a handroll, soup, and mochi ice cream.