It’s Tuesday night at the Hotel Chelsea. Lively coteries loiter on the rosy-hued sidewalk, colored by the white-and-crimson neon sign proudly displayed on the Victorian-era haunt. The late May evening is balmy enough to eat outside, but carries a chill that justifies the fire crackling beside gothic settees in the lobby. To enter the hotel’s newest dining concept, Teruko, which debuted Friday, May 23, I descend to the subterranean level. (Cue former resident Bob Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues.”)
The staircase is bathed in soft gold light reflecting off the doors of The Lobby Bar and surrealist art. Aromas of grilled peppers waft from the kitchen of the hotel’s streetside Spanish spot, El Quijote. With each step, the ambiance dims until I’m completely immersed in a dark basement corridor with arched brick ceilings. I follow the navy printed noren (flag-like curtains that mark doorways and storefronts in Japan) like breadcrumbs until I enter the cave-like space, which once housed the hotel’s former nightclub, Serena, from 1999 to 2005.
Teruko, abuzz with the 9 p.m. dining crowd (yes, it turns out that 6 p.m. isn’t the only time people are going to dinner at the moment), unfolds in three sections that give way to one another through wide, U-shaped stone archways. The first, at the entrance, is anchored by a large bar—imported from Tokyo hotspot Orchid Bar and lined with like-sized glass bottles of Japanese whisky and sake—and a handful of surrounding tables, ideal for a drink or small bites. The second section features a sushi counter with booth seating along the walls and a handful of tables in the center. The third and final section, tucked in the the back, houses six-person, circular booths and table seating.
The textured, baroque-influenced interior creates a unique setting for Japanese fare and art. The floors are antique limestone, the walls are lined with salvaged wood and panels of indigo-dyed denim, and all the booths are upholstered in crushed blue velvet. Teruko’s most noteworthy design element, however, is the art adorning the space: eight originals by Teruko Yokoi, the late Japanese-Swiss artist who inspired Hotel Chelsea, Sunday Hospitality Group and partner Charles Seich to create their fourth collaborative dining concept in her honor.
Yokoi, who passed away in 2020, painted some of her most important early works while living at the hotel from 1958 to 1961. Known for weaving modern American abstraction with Japanese visual culture, Yokoi has been featured in nearly 100 exhibitions, the most recent of which runs through June 14 at Hollis Taggart in New York.
The menu at Teruko, created by executive chef Tadashi Ono and head sushi chef Hideaki Watanabe, is a traditional mix of chilled and hot Japanese appetizers, such as tuna sashimi, wagyu tartare with spicy red miso and quail egg, edamame and fried chicken thigh with black vinegar sauce and yuzu mayo ($11 to $34), grilled seafood and meats ($32 to $165), rice and noodles ($15 to $42) and traditional edomae-style sushi (priced $18 to $58 for rolls and $8 to $28 per piece for sashimi and nigiri).
The kale Caesar is crisp, earthy and fresh. Baby kale leaves, versus full-grown roughage, offer a more tender bed for the blanched asparagus, green beans, tomatoes, avocado and delightfully chewy yet crunchy tofu croutons.
I am compelled to try the robata grilled Ozaki Wagyu, which my enthusiastic server suggests is a flagship dish of Teruko—one that is difficult to find in other restaurants and “too good to be graded” (by the Japanese Meat Grading Association, that is; I have no qualms rating it). In terms of its rarity, he’s right. According to Wagyu Master Europe, this wagyu beef took 30 years for farmer Muneharu Ozaki to perfect and is only raised on his farm in Kyūshū island’s Miyazaki Prefecture. The cattle are raised on 15 kinds of feed, batched over two hours into one mixture every day and night, and are aged until 28 to 36 months before slaughtering, so the fat marbles and the flavor deepens.
Seven slices of glistening, medium-rare meat are laid on a plate beside a small wooden board of fresh-ground wasabi (light, not overpowering and exceptionally smooth), coarse salt, thin-sliced carrots and sprouts, and a side of chimichurri. It was initially served without instruction, so I tried one slice with shiso chimichurri and another with wasabi and salt. The latter, less Americanized method was superior, and the server soon confirmed that this was his preferred pairing, too. The first strip contained the most fat and was chewier than I expected for Wagyu exceeding A5. The second was better, though still too chewy to sever with my front teeth, and the third and fourth slices proved most tender. The flavor was rich throughout, but not the type of religious experience one wants from a $98, three-ounce steak.
For sashimi and nigiri, I asked for the sushi chef’s choice—whatever was freshest or most interesting. Despite funky offerings like gizzard shad or decadent options like lobster-caviar, the final selections were simple: mackerel and toro. Both were good, with a gorgeous wasabi layer and rice base, but the toro was a touch tougher than I prefer.
The hamachi jalapeño salsa roll boasts a nice, fresh zing from the fresh-diced pepper, which complements the yellowtail tuna and bright cucumber salsa. I am most excited to try the toro taku because it includes my ideal fatty fish and my all-time favorite vegetable, radish. The radish, while offering a pleasant smoked flavor, is cut into chunks and mixed in with the fish—distracting from the toro itself, which, regrettably, like the nigiri, was not buttery. The kara hotate roll stands out most, with tender scallop minced with spicy mayo and tobiko that pops rather delightfully between bites of smoky heat.
The hotel’s pastry chef, Paty Zamarripa, has designed an artful dessert menu mixing Japanese ingredients with some French flair, such as the Crêpes Suzette with citrus glaze and ginger ice cream. The Sekitei, named after the Japanese rock gardens created to inspire Zen Buddhist meditation, is one of the highlights of the entire meal. Constructed like a real rock garden and served on beautiful stoneware, the gray “stone” centerpiece is filled with umber-colored hojicha mousse that, when cracked open, oozes miso caramel sauce onto a dusting of crushed sesame almond crumble, mimicking the sand and gravel in the zen gardens. Small stones filled with a pale, sweeter mousse surround the largest stone. Enjoyed with a silky uji no sato sencha tea poured at the ideal temperature, the presentation, texture and subtleties of earthy, sweet flavors in this dish encapsulate a celebration of Japanese food and art.
While there may be better places for melt-in-your-mouth edomae sushi at comparable—or cheaper—prices, Teruko, like the rest of the Hotel Chelsea, isn’t an experience dictated by food alone. It’s a place you go to drink in gothic architecture, exceptional art and sip on the spiritual remnants of the creatives who once feasted on song and literature within its walls. Teruko feels enigmatic—a Japanese restaurant in an old nightclub in a 141-year-old co-op-turned luxury hotel that celebrates the success of an exceptional immigrant artist who leaves a legacy behind.
