Soto.(Restaurant review)

Soto, Sotohiro Kosugi's first restaurant in New York City, is a showplace for small, beautiful things. Even the glassware sets an elegant tone: a green teardrop is cut into the side of a decanter and filled with ice, creating the illusion that the sake inside is laced with crystalline stalactites. There's a slight chill in the service, too--napkins are folded more quickly than glasses are replenished--but it's more a result of restraint than unfriendliness. (It is said that Kosugi, who owned another Soto, in Atlanta, for eleven years, once blew up when a diner asked for a Diet Coke; actually, Kosugi was annoyed by the visitor's request for daikon. Regardless, there is little evidence here of managerial hot-bloodedness.) It's clear that pains are taken, even with such standards as edamame, which has an unexpected nuttiness, and a version of miso soup, the broth of which is made with lobster and uni for a creaminess more characteristic of a bisque. The air of careful wonder is such that, were Kosugi not a chef, you could imagine him building doll houses.

The music at Soto is barely audible, and there is little noise (unless you happen to be seated next to a ...