Some restaurants feel like stages, built for spectacle and scale. Huso is the opposite — a restaurant that whispers rather than shouts, tucked quietly behind Marky’s Caviar in Tribeca. With just 28 seats, the space feels like a secret revealed only to those willing to look a little closer.
We went on an early Sunday evening, when the city was just starting to fold itself into quiet. Inside, the room was intimate yet polished: deep-blue banquettes, carefully chosen books, curated artwork — all small but deliberate touches that made the space feel layered, personal, and deeply intentional. It was a setting that felt less like a restaurant and more like a story waiting to be told.
That story belongs to Buddha Lo, Top Chef winner and the creative force behind Huso’s twelve-course tasting menu ($265). The meal unfolded with a rhythm that felt both confident and playful, a mix of refinement and warmth. Each course arrived like a chapter — some bold, some delicate, but all threaded with an undercurrent of curiosity.
The highlights were plentiful: king salmon with crème crue and Osetra caviar, a dish that managed to be both opulent and restrained; bluefin tuna with blood orange, where bright citrus lifted the richness into something unexpectedly light; and an Oishii strawberry dessert, a finale that balanced nostalgia with elegance, reminding me of childhood sweetness reframed for adulthood.
What struck me most was how the menu seemed to hold space for both precision and emotion. It wasn’t just about luxury ingredients — though they were certainly present — but about the way those ingredients were given context. There was storytelling in the plating, in the pacing, even in the way flavors carried from one course to the next. It was less about eating and more about experiencing a narrative told through food.
The service reflected the same sensibility: warm, assured, never rushed. Every gesture felt measured but human, a reminder that hospitality at its best is as much about presence as it is about polish.
Huso doesn’t feel like a restaurant you stumble into; it feels like a destination reached with intention. Yet it resists the weight of that expectation. Rather than demanding attention, it invites it. Rather than dazzling with noise, it lingers with subtlety. You leave not only full but thoughtful, as if you’ve been let in on something quiet and rare.
Walking back out into the evening, I found myself replaying moments — the shimmer of caviar against porcelain, the softness of strawberry against cream, the way the space seemed to hold both refinement and ease. It reminded me that food, at its most powerful, isn’t only about taste. It’s about memory, about connection, about the way a single meal can echo long after the table has been cleared.
Huso feels less like a destination and more like a story told gently in twelve courses — one you carry with you, even as the night moves on.
Huso, 323A Greenwich St, New York, NY 10013
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