Some restaurants announce themselves with grandeur, while others slip quietly into the everyday, reshaping how you experience a place you thought you already knew. Next Door, the new Japanese restaurant tucked beside Wegmans at Astor Place, does exactly that. After two years of anticipation, it has finally opened — and the result is an experience that feels both unexpected and quietly transportive.
You walk in from the buzz of the East Village, step past the glow of a grocery store, and suddenly you’re in a space that feels like it belongs to another rhythm entirely. The room is sleek, softly dramatic, anchored by a curved sushi counter that arcs like a sculptural centerpiece. Overhead, the lighting is sculpted too — warm, directional, and intentionally theatrical, illuminating the craft unfolding at the counter without overwhelming the atmosphere. There’s a subtle tension here: the precision of Japanese minimalism meeting the hum of a location that, on paper, feels almost too ordinary. But that contrast is what makes it intriguing.
Behind the counter, Chef Oliver Lange, alongside Kazuya Matsuoka and John Emerson, brings together a menu that is as much about restraint as it is about indulgence. The sushi, sourced directly from Tokyo’s Toyosu Market, feels like the beating heart of the experience — clean, fresh, quietly precise. Each piece reminds you of how powerful simplicity can be when handled with intention. Alongside it are produce-led small plates and dishes from the robata grill that lean into balance rather than excess. Flavors unfold gradually, giving you space to notice rather than rush.
The cocktails follow the same rhythm. Layered, deliberate, and distinctly Japanese in spirit, they carry the meal forward with subtlety rather than spectacle. You notice details — the way citrus is used not as garnish but as an aromatic lift, or how umami threads its way into what might otherwise be a simple sip. It’s not about bold statements; it’s about composition.
What struck me most was the juxtaposition: the way this refined, transportive dining room sits right next to grocery aisles. On paper, it sounds improbable — luxury pressed up against utility, delicately plated sushi steps away from cartons of milk and everyday produce. But in practice, it works. Maybe because dining here feels like a secret, a tucked-away pause that asks you to step out of the ordinary without traveling far. It’s as if the restaurant was designed to be discovered, to feel slightly hidden in plain sight.
The night we went, the room carried that hum of anticipation you often find in new openings — guests leaning in, curious, watching chefs work with quiet precision. It reminded me that New York has a particular gift for folding contrasts into harmony. A high-end sushi experience beside a supermarket isn’t a gimmick; it’s a reflection of the city itself, where luxury and everyday life sit side by side, often separated only by a door.
Eating at Next Door felt like more than just a meal — it felt like a reframe. A reminder that refinement doesn’t always live where you expect it to, and that sometimes the most transportive spaces are the ones that exist just outside your usual routine.
When I left that evening, stepping back into the noise of Astor Place, I couldn’t help but think about how pauses often live in unexpected places. Between grocery runs and commutes, between errands and emails, there can be these small worlds that open up if you’re willing to look for them. Next Door feels like one of those worlds: a sleek, sculptural space that slows you down, invites you in, and reminds you of the quiet pleasure of paying attention.
In a city that thrives on velocity, that kind of pause feels rare — and worth savoring.
Next Door by Wegmans, 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003
