If there is one thing I missed while living in Brooklyn was the new spot that opened up at the far north side of Williamsburg, a hidden gem of a restaurant at the corner of a street as an obscure warehouse with no signage. Zenkichi is an amazing little spot that’s great for two, and has a surprisingly good omakase and impressive decor to boot. The New Yorker describes it quite well.
This multilevel den, hidden at the far end of an über-hip Williamsburg stretch, is mostly recognizable by the small, come-hither red light shining above its doorway. Inside, diners are ensconced in dimly lit private cells, curtained off by bamboo blinds and connected by shadowy stone-slab-and-pebble walkways. Servers are discreet; they appear almost instantaneously at the press of a call button, but otherwise the blinds stay drawn.
I quite like the idea of not knowing what you’ll get, not just in regards to the food, but for the entire experience. It was pleasant enough, though once I did try to take someone there on very cold May evening only to find it closed on Mondays.
Sweetheart Sorrow
Sweetheart Sorrow is a fiction piece written by David Hoon Kim, for the New Yorker in 2006, about a Danish student and his hikkomori girlfriend.
This sort of reminds me of Norwegian Wood.