Two Rooms Keeps It Stylishly Simple

“If you had a restaurant, what would you name it?” JP asked, giving his wine a swift, professional-looking swirl.

“That’s a tough question.” I shook the clams in my pan and sprinkled them with salt before turning around to face him.

“Not for any particular reason, but I think Olga and Peter is a pretty good name.”

“You’d name your high-end restaurant after your parents?”

“Lots of high-end places are people’s names.” He clutched his glass defensively and curled his torso in on itself like a rolly polly.

“Yes, but usually just one name, like only Olga or only Peter. Anyway, there’s already a Peter,” I turned back to my clams.

“Okay, what’s your idea, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like Koi,” I replied, chewing thoughtfully on a strand of linguine. “It sounds crisp.”

“Hmm, people might expect Japanese food.”

“True. But it also sounds vaguely African, no?”

“I think simple is best. Salt. Beige. Two Rooms.” He stood up to pour another glass of wine, signaling an end to our conversation with dad-like decisiveness.

When I first heard of Two Rooms, I was skeptical. The name sounded uninspired, even a bit silly. It indicated the layout but little else, and I feared that the restaurant would be blandly trendy.

The designers certainly deserve props. The space is fabulously open, with wrap-around views of the city. The smart interior, done in black, white and dark wood, gives off the kind of contemporary, cosmopolitan vibe you might expect at one of Tokyo’s many design-conscious hotels. That’s not surprising, considering that the management team comes from the New York Grill and the Oak Door.

Adjacent to the main dining area is the bar, which houses an impressive 1800-bottle wine collection. But the ornament on the hood of this architectural Cadillac is the cocktail terrace, a wooden deck that extends artfully over a mirror-flat pond of water. It’s stylishly outfitted with boxy, boat-sized rattan sofas and matching tables - patio luxe for the 21st century jet set. If ever there was a proper context for passion fruit mojitos, this is it.

The food’s not shabby, either. The chef makes clever use of fresh domestic meat, fish and produce. The market lunch sets are a good value, and JP and I were both torn between the fish and the pork. Being married becomes a great advantage when confronted with two delicious-sounding options. Naturally, we went with one of each -- plus a couple of oysters on the half-shell.

JP’s appetizer of poached Sanriku scallops, topped with a salsa of Hokkaido corn and shallots over hummus was eye-openingly tasty. I would never have thought of putting those things together, but the smokiness of the hummus highlighted the natural sweetness of the corn and scallops nicely.

Although I’d been looking forward to the soft-boiled Datte eggs with truffle salt and Inca potatoes, the dish lacked overall impact. The potatoes, also boiled, provided the composition with little textural variation. Everything had a similar mushy consistency. I would like to have seen the potatoes made into crunchy latkes for some contrast.

My main dish of suzuki sea bass, served with creamy Meridith goat cheese, tomato puree, thinly shaved strips of fennel and black olive pesto; was artfully presented. The inventive combination of goat cheese, tomato and fennel harmonized well with the delicate fish. The olive pesto, however, was entirely unnecessary. It dominated the flavors, casting an aggressive piquancy over the entire dish. It also obliterated our wine, a steely and poised Tenuta Mount Nelson Marlborough ’07 Sauvignon Blanc.

JP had no complaints about his char-grilled Yamayuri pork with yuzu-kosho sour cream, which came with a juicy sliced zucchini and generous slabs of bacon. Generally speaking, I’m kind of opposed to the idea of bacon and pork on the same plate (unless we’re talking sausage), but this worked. The dish was simultaneously decadent and simple. I enjoyed it enough to steal the idea for our aborted dinner party.

The service was competent and professional, if a tad slow. Although the dining room was only half full, we waited for several minutes before receiving our menus, and my wine glass stood empty a few times (a big no-no). Our oyster starters took their time leaving the kitchen, but the pace picked up mid-meal.

Did I like it? Yes. Did I love it? No. Would I come back? You bet. The terrace beckons, and, while I’ve never been much of a raspberry martini girl, I’d be willing to give it a try.