Chain Reaction

There are so many options here that the short listing of "signature entrées" on the last page comes across as an afterthought. Yet short ribs braised with pasilla chili was the heartiest, most robustly flavored course we encountered. The long, boneless strip of meat was sumptuously soft and supported by shiitake grits mildly tinged with wasabi. A mound of full, lush sprigs of lemon-laced watercress on the side completed the beautiful plate of food — great deal at $24. Another entrée of five seared, slightly overcooked scallops came sauced in a zesty ginger-soy butter sauce that complemented the mollusks well, although lukewarm cilantro-specked rice and fried strips of leek on the side didn't contribute much. Except a grilled beef filet, main courses are less than $30; most starters, and fancy sushi rolls, are $12 to $16.

Abokado is a great place to be thirsty, boasting as it does an exceptional array of beverages. The relatively short wine list is user-friendly: Whites are categorized into "crisp," "spicy and playful," and "medium to full-bodied"; reds range from "light" to "spice" to "full-bodied." Asahi, Sapporo, and Kirin are available by the bottle, along with half a dozen other beers, while Sapporo, Stella Artois, and Amstel Light are on draft. Some 16 sakes are offered as well, including aged Akitabare "Suirakuten." At $120 a bottle, this is one of the more expensive picks, but a sake flight brings a two-ounce tasting of the Akitabare along with a pair of other sakes ($20). Plus there are green, white, black, and herbal-infused teas for the teetotalers.

Besides creatively flavored sorbets (like yuzu-tequila, served with a half-ounce of Cuervo) and not creatively flavored ice creams (vanilla or chocolate), there are three desserts. One is, of course, the ubiquitous flourless chocolate cake with a melted middle (misleadingly called soufflé). Yuzu cheesecake, arriving in a ramekin, was citrus-scented and custardy but was set between limp meringue and a hard crust that stuck to the bottom of the cup. Two tart yamamomo berries on the side were a nice touch. The third dessert option is an adeptly fried string of churros, whose outsides were clean and crisp, the interiors hot and steamy. Three Japanese soup spoons, the white porcelain type, each contained a different churros dip: white chocolate, dulce de leche, and mango. "Why are so many things served in these spoons nowadays?" queried the cynic. I could have replied that such frivolous gestures represent the nature of the casual-upscale beast, but that wouldn't have been much of an answer. Fact is, Abokado, like other places of its ilk, proves satisfying to a majority of diners by playing things cute and safe. For better and for worse.