when you want, where you want.
The New Wegmans Restaurant Is Entry-Level Sushi
Photo: Grub Street
I’ve never met a Stop & Shopaholic or a dyed-in-the-wool Gristedean, but I definitely know some Wegmaniacs. The Rochester-based grocery chain inspires a kind of fanatical devotion that few retailers can match — besides Publix in Florida and maybe Trader Joe’s, I can’t think of one. (Most people find it pretty possible to be whole without Whole Foods.) But when Wegmans arrived downstate, first in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, then in the former Kmart on Astor Place, the excitement was beyond even what I would have dreamed. This month, Wegmans followed the success of its hometown high-end-sushi restaurant, Next Door, with a high-end-sushi restaurant, Next Door, by its Manhattan store.
Though I am a non-direct descendant of Rochester — my father grew up there, Monroe High School class of ’59 — I haven’t been to Next Door. But it gets adoring reviews from locals (“Such a beautiful restaurant. It doesn’t feel like you’re in Rochester!” reads one review on OpenTable), and I’ve heard of at least one rehearsal dinner being hosted there. So it fell to the critic to see what all the fuss is about.
This week, I had dinner at Next Door, which, at least in the city, is not even really next door — the only entrance is indoors, through the market. There, past a refrigerated case of ready-to-cook shrimp, is the golden entrance to the restaurant, which might as well be another world: gold filigree, giant street-facing windows, faux-terrazzo floors, velvet seating. In an ever-more-NYU-ified Astor Place, Next Door fits right in. It has the muzzy comfort of a dressy hotel lobby. It’s a beautiful restaurant, as these things go, though, pace OpenTable, it doesn’t really feel like you’re in New York. If anything, it kind of feels like you’re in Rochester.
There’s nothing wrong with the sushi at Next Door, which flies in its fish from Japan, Norway, and New Zealand and prepares it behind a long marble-topped sushi counter. (I couldn’t help but notice that the ahi sashimi in the grocery case outside is from South Korea.) It’s just that it’s hard to see what distinguishes it from the weekday sushi options that radiate out around the East Village around it, besides its weekend prices. Next Door isn’t cheap. We paid $52 for a six-piece selection of nigiri, which included yellowtail, salmon roe, tuna, sea bream, salmon, and scallop, all fresh-tasting and well sliced but all fish essentially sourced from the sushi starter pack. The few specialty nigiri were standard fare, except for a seared scallop with brown butter and uni, which tasted distractingly of pastry.
In fact, the dominant flavor of much of what I sampled at Next Door, from the yellowtail sashimi with “ceviche relish” to the nigiri to robata-grilled half-lobster with tarragon butter and lime dashi, was a fruity sweetness. “Is there anything here that’s gonna taste like fish?” my friend Liz whispered as courses came out. It was hard to escape the feeling that Next Door is offering pop sushi, made palatable for the picky, sushi with dipping sauce. (Our nigiri came topped with sweet-onion relish, yuzu, or a miso-soy glaze.) Between its gussied-up fish and glitzy furnishings, Next Door reminded me of nothing so much as another New York transplant, now long gone: the old Sushisamba on Seventh Avenue South, a Miami expat that used to offer social sushi with a Brazilian beat.
I’m sure I take my life in my hands to say as much. Wegmaniacs, if Next Door sates your appetite for high-end, and high-priced, sushi from your favorite Monroe County grocer, then bon appétit. But in a sushi-stocked town, it’s hard to know what else distinguishes Next Door. There are more expensive places for showing off, better or more inventive preparations for purists and for iconoclasts. But if Next Door is to be your gateway to New York City’s other sushi options, go ahead and walk through it.
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