Omido.(restaurant)(Restaurant review)

Set amid the restaurant equivalents of garishly bloated Broadway musicals, Omido appears more akin to an Off Broadway production of Beckett. (Or, given its proximity to the Ed Sullivan Theatre, more David Letterman than Jay Leno.) Its incongruity is due largely to its AvroKo design: among the tourist claptrap and lit-up marquees, it's cool, spare, and stylish. The wood slatted front promises privacy, with peepholes that forestall claustrophobia; Edison light bulbs, encased in soccer-ball-size globes, dangle over the bar; candles inset into nooks provide a waterfall of flickering light. In the back, hundreds of twists of paper--omikuji, paper scrolls that, here, foretell good fortune--are suspended just underneath the low ceiling, creating the effect of a net full of feathers.

Omido seems to have earned its devotees: in the early evening, almost every seat is filled, and one might see a diner, crossing paths with the sushi chef, bow deeply in homage. On a recent night, by way of recommending the excellent mango parfait for dessert, the server pointed to a couple sharing one a few tables over. "She sometimes comes here just for that!" he said. "Ask her!" The sushi ...