"There are supposed to be 100 of these in Tokyo alone," I mentioned to my Japanese friend as we stood in front of Ootoya, a restaurant on the southern edge of the Flatiron district that debuted earlier this year. "Yes," she said, smirking. "It's sometimes called the Denny's of Japan."
But as we entered the intimate lobby, it didn't seem much like Denny's. We traipsed through two dining areas—a barroom with an impressive display of sakes in orderly rows, and a quieter middle room with a mural of ancient Japanese diners sitting around a low table—before arriving at the main one, an elegant space with a soaring ceiling. A yakitori grill thrusts into the room, overhung by a humongous latticed light fixture that gives the space an almost Gothic air. Looking down from a dizzying height, the most requested tables are along a narrow balcony that flanks the room on two sides. An army of white-clad cooks shouts a loud greeting as each party enters.
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