BY Lisa Lindblad
July 30, 2015
I love restraint which is probably why I love most things Japanese. On Thompson Street, within a few doorways of a favorite Japanese restaurant, Omen, is Hirohisa. With the proportions and aspect of a village house, Hirohisa is marked only by a discrete plaque bearing its name. I was already hooked.
The interior is as spare as the exterior – a handful of wooden tables, a counter with few seats and a slit window through which reels a movie of street life. But it is the food, of course, that enchants, plated, spooned, and bowled on to wood, ceramic and glass vessels. Chef Hirohisa comes from Echizen, famed for its Washi as well as ceramics; for Hirohisa, however, it is his home’s beautiful mountains and sea, pure water, and natural resources he wishes to celebrate here.
We had the omakase, a light, lively parade of small dishes that tilted toward uni – a favorite of ours – yet incorporated beef, an extraordinary few sips of tomato broth clear as water, and an unctuous tofu.