Come one, come all.
FROM DUSK TILL DAWN
It’s the 9:30pm seating at Sushi Hayashi, but it might as well be 3:00am on the road to El Rey. Less post-apocalyptic, more post-capitalism, but all the same dark haze.
I squint.
Is that Santanico Pandemonium behind the counter?
The patrons are ravenous.
Word has gotten out that a Lubabu may be up for grabs. A bearded Brooklynite double checks.
“That’s Hatsu Omakase”.
It’s an easy mistake to make. These days, New York City’s all-you-can-eat Omakase spots are like bats. Swarming. Identical.
Prying questions run through my mind.
Who makes the sushi? Where do they source their ingredients? How is the rice prepared?
None of it matters for the 12 vampires spending $98 to feast.
1: Hamachi with Jalapeno, truffle ponzu sauce and asian bear
2: “Toro” Uni Caviar Toast
3: Madai
4: Salmon with sweet pepper and tomato
5: Hamachi with salted jalapeno
6: Shima Aji with Yuzu Kosho
8: Botan Ebi with pickled wasabi
9: Akami with truffle mushroom paste
10: O Toro Aburi with ossetra caviar
11: Wagyu Aburi with fresh black truffle
12: Unagi
13: Futomaki
The Omakase takes 25 minutes; that’s 25 minutes too long for this group. They care about the main event. It’s not a snake dance, but there is fire all the same. Butane bathes 50 wagyu nigiri in anticipation of what comes next. Two cracks at as much Hotategai, Akami, O Toro Aburi and Unagi as you want. No one’s placed an order yet, but they don’t need to.
Hayashi knows.
The vampires will want burnt meat. No sense in waiting; there’s only so much evening four seatings a night can handle.
We order.
Out come the phones. Ingesting 326 nigiri means nothing without a camera.
Steady now.
Alcohol doesn’t help the cause. Sake and beer are included, and the team is generous. The wonderful manager – wasted in a place like this – keeps them focused. It’s not their fault that Hayashi exists. It’s ours.
Not recommended.
