Solo eating establishments—the truly great ones—require a precise atmosphere. Some are quiet and discreet. Others are unexpected and lie in plain sight. But they can all be difficult to find in a metropolis. Alex Vadukul presents a new one here on the first week of every month. The first in the "Eating Solo" series: East Japanese, a restaurant that makes conveyor belt sushi not only fun, but a worthwhile solo experience.
What is so calming about watching endless arrangements of raw fish on rice move along a conveyor belt?
Maybe it’s the glowing fluorescent lights on the belt that blink like camera shutters when sushi plates pass by. The hypnotizing, river-like movement of the loop that becomes your setting for pondering life. Or, perhaps it's that you can do this all in relative peace without anyone’s disturbance: the purpose of servers here, where customers pick their food off the belt, is not essential. Aside from getting seated and requesting your check, someone can eat here with hardly any bother.
You’d think the immediacy behind conveyor sushi belt restaurants—or “kaiten-zushi” as the service is called—would yield more such restaurants in Manhattan, an island that values immediacy above all else. But there have only been a handful of such establishments in the city over the years. I enjoy my solo sushi-gazing sessions at East, an affordable midtown Japanese restaurant that may be the city’s best-known conveyor belt spot. It opened 30 years ago, a manager said, and the belt was installed 15 years ago, taking a page from Japan, where the kaiten style is popular.
The premise is simple. Varieties of sushi, rolls, and dessert on small plates travel along a moving belt that wraps around the sushi bar and restaurant. Plates have different colors indicating the price of the item. Waiters add up the total at a meal’s end. A small feast at East with two large mugs of beer ran me just above $30.
It may seem improbable to find a solo-eating refuge in Kips Bay, which neighbors Murray Hill, an area associated with hard-partying graduate students and dozens of fraternity basement-like bars. In fact, the restaurant throbs with such clientele most of the time, but on Sundays and Mondays or during weekday off-hours, East is a calmer establishment. It's just you, your thoughts, and the never-stopping sushi belt.
Longtime locals seem to know East’s bar is an excellent solo haunt, fitting for after-work decompression or a moment of peace. On one recent Monday night, the bar was sprinkled with solo eaters: a middle-aged man with spectacles, an older man texting a friend on his phone, a lady with blue hair who stared deep into the belt’s glow.
East’s sushi is not top-flight sushi and does not purport to be. It is affordable and passable sushi ideal for those craving raw fish or the taste of Japanese cuisine without pretense. However, the salmon sushi, which there seems to be more of on the loop than any other, is the standout. Thinly sliced and fatty, it may be the best-quality bite on the belt. Classic rolls, like spicy tuna and Philadelphia, also rank well, as do most of the other traditional sushi staples.
At times East attempts to reach higher. I was taken aback, for example, when a plate of sliced abalone still in its shell passed me by. It’s a mollusk I’m more accustomed to seeing in fine sushi establishme
What is so calming about watching endless arrangements of raw fish on rice move along a conveyor belt?
Maybe it’s the glowing fluorescent lights on the belt that blink like camera shutters when sushi plates pass by. The hypnotizing, river-like movement of the loop that becomes your setting for pondering life. Or, perhaps it's that you can do this all in relative peace without anyone’s disturbance: the purpose of servers here, where customers pick their food off the belt, is not essential. Aside from getting seated and requesting your check, someone can eat here with hardly any bother.
You’d think the immediacy behind conveyor sushi belt restaurants—or “kaiten-zushi” as the service is called—would yield more such restaurants in Manhattan, an island that values immediacy above all else. But there have only been a handful of such establishments in the city over the years. I enjoy my solo sushi-gazing sessions at East, an affordable midtown Japanese restaurant that may be the city’s best-known conveyor belt spot. It opened 30 years ago, a manager said, and the belt was installed 15 years ago, taking a page from Japan, where the kaiten style is popular.
The premise is simple. Varieties of sushi, rolls, and dessert on small plates travel along a moving belt that wraps around the sushi bar and restaurant. Plates have different colors indicating the price of the item. Waiters add up the total at a meal’s end. A small feast at East with two large mugs of beer ran me just above $30.
It may seem improbable to find a solo-eating refuge in Kips Bay, which neighbors Murray Hill, an area associated with hard-partying graduate students and dozens of fraternity basement-like bars. In fact, the restaurant throbs with such clientele most of the time, but on Sundays and Mondays or during weekday off-hours, East is a calmer establishment. It's just you, your thoughts, and the never-stopping sushi belt.
Longtime locals seem to know East’s bar is an excellent solo haunt, fitting for after-work decompression or a moment of peace. On one recent Monday night, the bar was sprinkled with solo eaters: a middle-aged man with spectacles, an older man texting a friend on his phone, a lady with blue hair who stared deep into the belt’s glow.
East’s sushi is not top-flight sushi and does not purport to be. It is affordable and passable sushi ideal for those craving raw fish or the taste of Japanese cuisine without pretense. However, the salmon sushi, which there seems to be more of on the loop than any other, is the standout. Thinly sliced and fatty, it may be the best-quality bite on the belt. Classic rolls, like spicy tuna and Philadelphia, also rank well, as do most of the other traditional sushi staples.
At times East attempts to reach higher. I was taken aback, for example, when a plate of sliced abalone still in its shell passed me by. It’s a mollusk I’m more accustomed to seeing in fine sushi establishme