Kurumazushi

Enter the narrow corridor and walk past the security guard. Cram into the tiny elevator, take it to the second floor, and turn around, as the opposite door will open... into the deceptively unassuming surroundings of Kurumazushi. You're now in a Michelin-starred sushi bar which will thrill you, the sushi purist, to the bone.

Last night, I arrived there early, and sat right in front of Chef Toshihiro Uezu. It was a delight to watch him slash and score the various fish (and obviously even more of a delight to consume it). I requested a sashimi and sushi omakase, and Mr. Uezu said he would start with sashimi. Two pieces of rosy pink fish appeared on my plate. "O-toro," he announced. I couldn't help myself and ate them in about half a second. "Finished already?"

Feeling slightly guilty, as this was an experience to be savored, I resolved to slow down! Mr. Uezu's next offering was a selection of cream-colored belly of yellowjack, lean yellowtail and rich yellowtail. Then there were two glistening pieces of red-edged bream, anointed with sudachi (Japanese lime) juice. "Marvelous!" was my reaction. "There's only sushi here," explained Mr. Uezu. "Some other places that serve sushi also serve tempura, noodles..."

My ceramic plates were changed up, and the second act - sushi - began. Larger pieces of o-toro, oh my! Silver-edged Spanish mackerel melted in my mouth on contact. Kimedai, an iridescent pink fish which I'd never eaten before, came next, and then there were two mini-sculptures of white fluke topped with green scallion and orange spicy radish.

"Anything else?" (I knew this was code for "You've reached what should be the limit for your appetite and your finances," but I just had to keep going.) "Uni?" I pleaded. "Very good!" said Mr. Uezu, obviously excited about his stock of sea urchin. He piled my seaweed-rice cylinders high with the soft orange creature. It was so creamy, cold and sweet. I was approaching fullness now, but since I'd mostly consumed fish, I wanted the various textures and tastes of shellfish. "OK," said Mr. Uezu, "I'll end with scallop, giant clam, and this special baby white shrimp from Japan." The orange giant clam was surprisingly tender. Shiro-ebi, white shrimp, were another novelty for me. They were tiny, almost transparent, and delicately sweet in flavor.

When the waiter, in a small concession to American tastes, asked if I'd like fruit or ice cream for dessert, I declined, as I didn't want to disturb the purity and beauty of these tastes.

(Of course, after I got home, I reached into my handbag and pulled out the green-tea cakes I'd bought at nearby Minamoto Kitchoan, the Japanese bakery.)

Kurumazushi: 7 East 47th St., 2nd Floor, (212) 317-2802.