A doubtful debut for Morimoto Asia

I typically write 1,000 words about a restaurant, carefully weighing the pros and cons of every encounter to back up my ratings.

Without burden of responsibility, my friends can be much more succinct in expressing their opinions with a few simple words. When I asked one about her experience at the new Morimoto Asia Waikiki, she said, “The ambience and company were awesome so that made it fun!”

Of course friends buoy most situations; what I wanted to know was what she thought of the food, to which she replied, “It was mediocre but not bad or horrible.”

That kind of summed it up for me as well, and that is why, despite shortfalls, the restaurant will likely do very well. The food may not be all that, but the restaurant is a nice place for a date or party, and of course has access to a never-ending supply of tourists, who need to visit just once to make this place successful.

The restaurant, on the second floor of the new Alohilani Resort Waikiki Beach, makes good use of its streetfront location and view of the beach. The restaurant’s high visibility on Kala­kaua Avenue is a plus because “Iron Chef” Morimoto’s name is a beacon to a particular type of foodie walking that well-traveled stretch of beach. It’s no wonder reservations are a must.

DON’T EXPECT it to be the same Morimoto restaurant that was at The Modern Honolulu. You’ll still find some sushi and other Japanese fare that was the chef’s original claim to TV fame, but this time the concept is more universal, encompassing Pan-Asian street fare, with the dishes representing Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Thai, Indonesian and Malaysian cultures.

But here’s the problem for me. The restaurant charges premium Waikiki prices but forgot the upgrades.

The concept is a tall order for one kitchen because each cuisine requires specialized skills and unique ingredients.

I know it can be done. I’ve tasted Korean fare elevated at Michelin-starred Gaon and Kwon Sook Soo in South Korea, and have been fortunate to see chef Justin Quek work his magic in bringing luxury to Singapore’s Peranakan street food at Sky on 57. I didn’t mind paying up to $250 per person for those enhanced experiences.

Locally, Yauatcha came in and charged a higher price for dim sum than any other restaurant in town (until now), but there it’s obvious a lot of thought and care went into the conception and execution of luxurious dumplings that arrive like pristine jewels.

At Morimoto Asia you will pay three times the going rate in Chinatown for food that is only comparable or not even as good as what’s served at its mom-and-pop counterparts. So yes, the food is not “horrible,” as my friend said, but to serve street fare as is, at Morimoto prices, seems contemptuous of the customer, likely someone who either hasn’t had enough experience with such food to know the difference, is too afraid to set foot in an ethnic neighborhood or assumes great food can only come in a pretty package.

That’s OK. We are not alike in our predilections. Some people go to restaurants for the scene and the cult of celebrity. Some go out of an appreciation for food and chefs who have a passion for improving their craft. Let’s be clear. This restaurant is for the former group.

OF THE dim sum, I have to admit there’s little that can be done to improve on shrimp har gao (shrimp in a rice paper wrap). I just don’t want to pay $13 for three pieces, considering it’s $8 at Yauatcha and $3 in Chinatown.

I’m much more willing to pay for heftier and juicy pork dumplings ($13 for three pieces) or the pork and shrimp shumai ($13 for three pieces), but I couldn’t understand why the edges of the steamed dumplings were so dried out and hard, as if they had been made in advance and refrigerated long before hitting the steamer. In Chinatown, you see the opposite problem; wraps are so fresh that if you’re not nimble with chopsticks, they tear and spill their fillings when you pick them up.

Hainanese chicken and rice is Singapore’s national dish — plain poached chicken served with moist rice cooked in a fatty chicken stock that provides its renowned “oily rice” reputation.

In a small bid to make this typically $8 dish ($3 at a Singapore hawker center) worth its $22 price tag, the rice is described as being turmeric rice, but it had none of the bouquet or flavor of turmeric, and it was as dry and grainy as fried rice that’s a couple days old. It tasted more like movie theater buttered popcorn.

A laksa ($16) had none of the coconut- curry characteristics of others I’ve tried, and the noodles were thick chewy distractions. Tonkotsu ramen ($16) had little of the pork flavor that is a hallmark of this dish.

THE CHEF’S native sushi was a problem as well. The rice in a loosely packed spider roll ($14) had no hint of vinegar, so it was bland, saved only by shoyu and wasabi.

Two of the highly touted dishes are a sticky-rib ($15) appetizer and the Morimoto Peking duck ($60). The four ribs proved popular with my friends, with a nice crisp coating and assertive hoisin-chili sauce.

(I’m generally against sauces that cover up the flavor of the pork, but this was one of the most palatable items on the menu.)

The duck was also tasty, but again, you’ll find better in Chinatown, where the cost is about $30 for a whole bird. Here, they’ve subbed out the traditional bao for flour tortillas, which don’t do the duck much justice. The textures are too similar, and the wrap is overly doughy. A highlight of this dish in any average Chinese restaurant is the crispy skin. Here there’s no crisp factor at all. It’s great for dieters trying to avoid extra fat, and one plus is it makes a great dish to share.

I couldn’t bring myself to order many of the Chinese basics because I’d feel like a sucker paying $17 for mapo tofu, $22 for kung pao or orange chicken or $22 for sweet-sour pork.

Where I was truly taken was in ordering the Ishiyaki A5, without reading the fine print. I saw only the $25 price, and the $80 assigned to the washugyu ribeye listed just below it. What? A bargain at Morimoto? The five small pieces of stone-cooked Miyazaki steak were fatty and delicious, but the real price came out to be $75. The $25 was the price per ounce, with a 3-ounce minimum.

Our waiter never asked how many ounces we wanted. That would only have alerted us to the per-ounce cost, which we should have known anyway, because that’s the going rate for Miyazaki. We were just so elated to see a deal here, we got taken.

Oh well, it looks nice.

Nadine Kam’s restaurant reviews are conducted anonymously and paid for by the Star-Advertiser. Reach her at nkam@staradvertiser.com.