Obika

I finally had a chance to have lunch at the new mozzarella bar, Obika, yesterday. The good news first. My cheese was marvelous, the thin skin like exterior giving way to a ball of mild but flavorful cream within. The accompanying Italian meats were equally good. While my speck and proscuitto were excellent, I was especially taken by the mortadella. It's almost worth dragging everyone who thinks mortadella is supermarket baloney with pistachios stuck in to Obika to change that impression alone.

Alas, the service is terrible, fumbling and slow. There's no reason at all for this to be a bar the way a sushi bar is a bar. After all, there's no real action, and you can't talk to the chef or buy him Japanese beers. The don't have wine, bizarrely. I had to drink a good, but expensive, grape-fruit juice. Bread costs extra, unless you berate the waiter, at which point he might deign to put a couple of slices on a plate and bring it over. And, most annoying to me but a little petty, the servers spend all their time loudly slamming the little door that leads into the interior of the bar. It's especially annoying because they obviously know its an issue. The manager type person prowling around in a suit took almost ridiculous pains to close the door slowly, but his employees were paying no attention.

Nonetheless, this was delicious food. I'd return.

UPDATE: I found Paul Goyette's post on this restaurant, but in Italy.