High-end sushi in a big, big room.
From an it's-all-about-the-food perspective, though, the importance of Matsuri being a glorified sushi restaurant is that it will charge you a lot to leave you hungry. Do you value the chance to dine at a happening place, in an amazing room? If you're going to eat here and expect your share of the check to fall in the double-figure range, you'd better.
If you appreciate those aspects of dining at least a little, the payoff at Matsuri can be pretty big. Before getting into specific plusses and minuses, let me recommend a strategy for maximizing that payoff.
First, insist on a table in the big room. You need to reserve no more than a couple of days in advance, but make sure your entire party shows up on time, or a snippy hostess might seat you elsewhere. The restaurant's main area is the best new dining room downtown, and arguably the most impressive use of a windowless space in all of New York. The spillover room off to its side is typical-Manhattan-hotspot territory: loud and crowded.
More about the setting in a minute. As for ordering, the way to get your (near) fill of Matsuri's best tastes without getting creamed is to go basic: an appetizing bowl of nutty lotus root chips ($5), chef's choice of sushi and sashimi for three (called "Sushi & Sashimi Bayashi," the platter costs $63 and isn't truly enough for three), a rich and filling bowl of hot udon soup with vegetables and dipping sauce ($11), and the small tempura plate, which is sea eel with green-tea salt ($9). Matsuri's exponential sake and wine markups can be avoided by sticking to bottles of house hot sake ($9 or $16).
One of each of the above adds up to about $100. What it misses of Matsuri's sizeable menu amounts to very little. Literally.
In charge of Matsuri's kitchen is a Japanese chef who cooked at La Caravelle; the press-release storyline is that he's bringing the essence of French technique home. Indeed, Matsuri's menu descriptions point to a Provençal flair applied to elemental Japanese delicacies. Yellowtail sashimi is bathed in green yuzu-pepper sauce ($12), cured salmon gets a sprinkle of ginger-vinegar ($7) and raw tuna is cubed and stacked with sticks of mountain potato ($10).
The reality of these precious-sounding combinations is that the fish is good and so are the extras. But together they amount to nothing the least bit revelatory, while the portion sizes seem to insist they're supposed to. Yuzu-pepper sauce ain't truffle butter! A few more slices of that clean sashimi in its place would've been welcome.
Similarly, red miso soup with lobster ($9) evidenced no effort to achieve flavor greater than the sum of its parts?it was just some lobster dropped in a bowl of miso. The most expensive small plate, seared kobe beef with mustard-vinegar sauce ($16), brought fewer pretensions yet still managed to disappoint. A neat row of tiny medallions, perfectly butchered and tender, it was some fine steak and no more. (Again, more would've helped.)
The only way to feel ripped off, though, when situated in a prime spot in Matsuri's main dining room, would be to try. Patrons get a bird's-eye view of the space upon entering, as the restaurant's lobby and bar are lofted a full story above. The lighting is from gargantuan Japanese lamps, which evoke a visionary, dreamlike quality that brought to mind the banquet of the gods in Hayao Miyazaki's Spirited Away. The ceiling is a single arch of inlaid wood. As one descends Matsuri's wide, wooden staircase, the ceiling design's magnificent acoustic effect adds to the otherworldly atmosphere. The room is big, busy and quiet.
Matsuri's humming energy feels simultaneously exciting and calm. The surest way to break the spell is to expect the cuisine to succeed with a corresponding degree of difficulty and elaboration. Better to pretend such heights can't even be reached with Japanese food (try the mantra, "There is no Nobu"). Note that a significant portion of Matsuri's current clientele are banker boys and Sevens girls with no idea.
The kitchen has the fundamentals down solid?especially tempura. That sea eel was such a consistent and pleasing batter-dipped cylinder?like some heavenly version of a corn dog. The udon broth was of the authentic variety that's only just starting to show up in New York, with layered flavorings resultant of great labor and care. And the sushi platter, though not in the same league as a similarly priced assortment at 5th St.'s tiny Jewel Bako, brought zero complaints. The best touch was a spicy tuna made with hot-pepper marinade instead of mayo.
A round of a la carte sushi and sashimi revealed major weaknesses. The flavor of monkfish liver sashimi was a bit faint; same for a piece of sea urchin sushi. Both were priced in accordance with the oceanic power they lacked. The squid was tough as a bicycle tire, and should not have been served at all.
With the exception of the shrimp and vegetable tempura ($16), the big plates are pretty much a bust. Black cod marinated in sake and grilled was delicate and light?a little too much like eating nothing at all. Duck breast roasted with wasabi-chive sauce ($16) was amazingly similar to the kobe beef appetizer: a handful of artfully-arranged morsels, tender and rare, with a sauce that amounts to just pretty words on a page.