As plain-wrap Japanese restaurants go, this one is the plainest. They barely had the energy to add anything but the words “Japanese Restaurant” to their bird-dropping-covered awning. Typical of the many dinky restaurants dotting 9th Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen, Hana somehow manages to stay afloat despite Mr. Hipster being what appears to be the only patron on any given day. This particular day, I had one of my weird cravings for chicken teriyaki. There’s something about the white rice, teriyaki sauce and little green salad that fills a whole in my black, black soul. Then these slackers give me some chicken with watery brown sauce that they claim is teriyaki. It had the consistency of soy sauce and was the color of weak tea. Man, I hate being disappointed when I get a craving–maybe I should train myself to only crave pre-packaged snack food. [MF]
