Those of you with an appreciation for the quirky anthropology of New York City restaurants will remember, with a quiet shudder, the invasion of the boisterous Japanese Godzilla restaurants during the first half of this decade. These giant, big-box establishments (Matsuri, Megu, EN Japanese Brasserie, to name just a few) blossomed around town during the peak of the Bull Market Bubble. They featured herds of shouting waiters, great barn-size dining rooms, and menus rich with luxurious expense-account delicacies, like fatty tuna belly and Kobe beef flecked with gold leaf. These days, most of the Godzilla-size joints are still functioning, but, like the dinosaurs at the end of the Cretaceous era, they are in a period of existential crisis. They are beset by hordes of smaller, more nimble competitors. Expense accounts have withered away. Health-conscious big-city gourmands no longer eat mercury-laden sushi by the boatload. And, most ominous of all, the simple cheeseburger has replaced Kobe beef as the city’s totemic food.
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