You know those times when someone mentions a type of food and you just have to have it right then or
you’ll explode...
Yeah...
Introducing Bugs, a diminutive East Village hovel plating sushi that is at least 60,000 times better than its name, now open.
It’s brought to you by a charming sushi chef named Sho Boo, formerly of Jewel Bako. We tell you this not to impress you, but because you won’t be more than 15 feet away from her at any time here. So you’ll want to thank her profusely for preparing some of the butter-softest yellowtail and fluke sushi you’ve yet experienced.
You’ve seen studio apartments/closets bigger than this. And that’s exactly how you should think of it—like your culinary savant of a friend is preparing you (and a very small group of friends) a Japanese feast at her place. Three tables, nine bar seats, two hot plates and a rice cooker. That’s what’s creating that red snapper you’re pleasure-moaning about. That Berkshire pork belly—from a f**king hot plate (it’s right there where you realize you are not good at cooking).
And we won’t lie. We’re not entirely sure whether the edamame being served in a flowerpot is a quirky affectation or just a very real lack of dishes, but you won’t care.
You don’t need those fancy “plates” anyway.
Yeah...
Introducing Bugs, a diminutive East Village hovel plating sushi that is at least 60,000 times better than its name, now open.
It’s brought to you by a charming sushi chef named Sho Boo, formerly of Jewel Bako. We tell you this not to impress you, but because you won’t be more than 15 feet away from her at any time here. So you’ll want to thank her profusely for preparing some of the butter-softest yellowtail and fluke sushi you’ve yet experienced.
You’ve seen studio apartments/closets bigger than this. And that’s exactly how you should think of it—like your culinary savant of a friend is preparing you (and a very small group of friends) a Japanese feast at her place. Three tables, nine bar seats, two hot plates and a rice cooker. That’s what’s creating that red snapper you’re pleasure-moaning about. That Berkshire pork belly—from a f**king hot plate (it’s right there where you realize you are not good at cooking).
And we won’t lie. We’re not entirely sure whether the edamame being served in a flowerpot is a quirky affectation or just a very real lack of dishes, but you won’t care.
You don’t need those fancy “plates” anyway.
