If a new restaurant lets me come in and take photos of the space, I often wait a week or two to eat there—most establishments can use the extra time to get on their feet. Brushstroke allowed me in on opening night, so I figured I’d get there soon enough. How did eight months go by so fast?

Serving a prix-fixe kaiseki menu, Brushstroke always seemed like the kind of place we’d enjoy more on a weekend, when we weren’t stressed from work and the prospect of an umpteen-course meal sounded nice, not exhausting. When I say “we,” I mean my partner, Adam. I needed him to be in the mood, because dining alone at Brushstroke was out of the question—not least of all because it’s expensive. And, at the risk of sounding like a food-world philistine, I’ve always been a little ambivalent about kaiseki, which can be fussy at the expense of fun.

Summer came, and we spent weekends in the country. The one weekend we were going to be around, I made a reservation—and we ended up having to cancel. As the positive reviews rolled in, a weekend dinner at Brushstroke began requiring 30 days’ notice. Then we ate at Jungsik and SHO Shaun Hergatt, which pushed us back a bit. How many outrageous restaurant meals would my accountant allow me to deduct?

Finally, my friend Michele said she was curious to try Brushstroke, and I called on November 30 to reserve for New Year’s Eve Eve. Adam and I don’t really celebrate New Year’s Eve anymore, and having a fancy dinner the night before would give us an excuse to stay home on the big night. When Michele had to cancel, I said to hell with it: We were going anyway.

My first thought as we were seated at a two-top by the entrance was that the tables were too close. If you’re paying $85 to $135 per person (before tax, tip, and drinks), you shouldn’t have to whisper. Adam didn’t think it was that bad, or at least that that’s life in modern-day New York. The calmness of the room soon mellowed me out; it’s such a pretty space, and there might be something about kaiseki that attracts a certain hushed clientele. Also, I loved the jazz coming through the speakers, but then I think most every restaurant should play jazz.

I have no doubt that my mood improved as a result of the shiso cocktail. It has been different every time I’ve ordered it at Brushstroke (the first two times at the bar); this go-round, it came on the rocks, with the shiso leaf cut up instead of floating on top. And the citrus seemed to be more lemon than orange. It was the best yet.

There are three menus to choose from: the Vegetarian Menu and the Sushi Kaiseki Menu are $85, while the Early Winter Menu is $135. We had gone to Sushi Yasuda the night before, and $135 just felt beyond the pale to me, so I ordered the vegetarian menu—which I was excited about anyway, the vegetables often being my favorite part of a Japanese meal. Adam, mostly so we could taste as many dishes as possible, opted for the sushi menu. We figured that if we loved it, we could come back and go whole hog.

The courses arrived in a methodical parade, never too long from one to the other, and this was one of the rare occasions where I was grateful that the servers explained each dish. Which isn’t to say I remembered all of it: Looking at my photos the next day, I could only recall what half were—the item pictured directly above, for instance, is a total mystery. But they were all delightful, the sole exception being the tempura. (I suppose my lack of clarity could be Adam’s fault. He ordered a second shiso cocktail, so I joined him, just to be polite. We took comfort from the fact our indulgence paled next to that of a woman two tables away, who was obviously sloshed. Anyway, we were having such a pleasant time that I also forgot to keep taking photos—there was far more to the meal than what you see here.)

The black beans at the top of this post were a revelation, with none of the mealiness you might expect. I do recall thinking the Malanga dumpling—probably not its actual name—was the best thing I had eaten in a while. And the soba porridge (third photo from top) was outrageously delicious, even if it was served in a comically large bowl, at least relative to the portion size. It sort of looked like I was getting the someone else’s dregs. But we hardly went hungry! In fact, I only ate a third of my rice dish—the rest was packaged in a to-go container that was wrapped in a red-and-white Japanese paper towel and placed at the coat check, a claim tag left on our table—and I still ended up pleasantly stuffed. It was fortunate that I despise aquarium scum green tea, because I ate less of the dessert as a result. Adam, for his part, enjoyed the sushi menu, although it was difficult to compete with Sushi Yasuda—and if his interest in my meal was any indication, next time he’ll go for the vegetarian menu (if we don’t extrasplurge and go for the $135 menu).

The two-plus hours went by quickly. The service was formal but not too uptight—normally when I’m spending that kind of money I notice any and all flubs—and the staff knew when to smile and go with a moment. As we were waiting for our coats, a group of ragamuffins in hoodies came in. “Is this Ninja?” one asked. I asked the hostess whether that happens often. “All the time!” she said, laughing.

The bottom line: At this price point, the question is whether it’s worth it. I thought so, but I love non-sushi Japanese food. I don’t think you have to be familiar with kaiseki to enjoy Brushstroke, but I do think it helps if you like the flavors of miso, dashi, and so on. If that’s not your thing, you’ll probably be happier elsewhere.

Please share your opinions on Brushstroke’s page in the Tribeca Citizen Restaurant Guide.