A far cry from Alexander's

Hoseki at Saks Fifth Avenue is an tiny oasis of fine fish

Alexander’s in the 70s, around the time my mom used to take us here for dinner.

I can’t say that I have spent much time in department stores lately, if ever actually. But when I was a kid growing up in Queens, I used to love going to Alexander’s, a rather average, rambling department store that held many wonders for a small child. To be sure, this was not a fancy, shiny department store like Bloomingdale’s, Bergdorf, or the late Bonwit Teller. Those, out on the Miracle Mile of Manhasset, were far too rich for our blood. 

But my mom, a single parent working as a nurse, would load us into our yellow station wagon (we were oftentimes confused for a yellow taxi cab), and drive us over to Queens Blvd. where we would run around the Alexander’s, up and down the escalators and through the aisles, and “shop.” I have a distinct memory of my brother getting lost; we were panicked, he was not. We discovered him sitting on the floor, calmly playing under the hems of dense coats hung on circular clothing racks. 

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After shopping for whatever was needed; school clothes or bed linens, winter coats, or summer bathing suits (and finding David), we would head down to the main floor cafeteria, a fluorescent-lit, street-level space with wood-paneled walls, aisles of sturdy booths, and a long formica dining counter with swivel stools. I don’t ever think we called it a restaurant, it was always the cafeteria. 

To enter, you walked through a turnstile, sort of like you were hoping on the subway. From there, a waitress in a lapel-collared button down top and A-line skirt, both made from flammable polyester, with a neat cafe-apron tied around her waist, would seat us in our favorite booth. It was a roomy rectangle, with a table-top jukebox where we chose our favorites—Billy Joel, Pat Benatar, The Police, and Toto for me and David, Neal Diamond, Lou Rawls, The Mamas and the Papas, and The Carpenters, for my mom—and settled into the teal vinyl booth seats that stuck to the backs of our sticky sunburned thighs in summertime.   

Dinner was always some variation on a baked pasta dish; lasagna, eggplant parm, maybe baked ziti, but that bit didn’t really matter. What we wanted was the Frozen Yogurt for dessert. It came in one flavor, tart, the OG forerunner to Pinkberry, and it was served in a cut glass stemmed bowl loaded with berries and topped with shredded coconut that tasted more or less like copy paper that had been doused in suntan lotion. I loved it.

I have many wonderful highly-processed food memories of childhood: Stella D’Oro Swiss Fudge Cookies, nibbled in a neat circle saving the glossy chocolate center for last; Entenmann’s Cream-Filled French Crumb Cake, eaten with a teaspoon on Saturday mornings while watching Scooby Doo; Ring Dings, sliced open and filled with peanut butter and microwaved at Melissa Epstein’s house after school. But the pleasure of that bowl of frozen yogurt, cold and tart, eaten slowly with a long dinged up silver spoon, shared in a big booth at Alexander’s with my mom and David? It doesn’t get better than that. 

My kids never had the chance to go to Alexander’s; it was torn down a long time ago, but I am planning on taking them to a different sort of department store restaurant when they return from camp: Hoseki, a stunning little omakase bar tucked inside Saks Fifth Avenue. (These kids have it good.)

Chef Daniel Kim at the jewel box, Hoseki, secreted in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Hoseki, which means jewel in Japanese, does not have vinyl seating or a tabletop jukebox; instead it has a solid marble alabaster bar, paired with a set of six soft emerald green velvet stools, accented with brass fixtures. There is soft lighting. There are no turnstiles. Thighs do not have to be peeled off these seats. So it has its perks.

The restaurant comes from partners Maxwell Weiss and chef Daniel Kim who met during the pandemic. Weiss, who was the opening general manager of Moonrize Izakaya on the Upper West Side, was laid off from his gig Maialino after it closed during the early days of COVID. With more time at home during the pandemic, Weiss leaned into his passion for Japanese cuisine, partnering with Kim to bring the omakase experience to people’s homes. By 2023, their “Ten Homakase” had served omakase dinners to thousands of guests in their homes across seven states.

At Saks, the pair have created an intimate oasis of fine fish, at a magnificent six seat counter. It’s an ideal stage for Chef Kim’s talents, skills developed over two decades of experience—stints at Sushi Zo and as head chef at Sushi by Bou, and as the private sushi chef for Nomura, a Japanese investment bank. 

At Hoseki, his $95, 12-course tasting menu (served from 12pm-4pm) is probably the best buy out there, with a thoughtfully and beautifully curated collection of sushi using traditional technique but with Chef Kim’s unique creative spin.

Hoseki’s notable nigiri include albacore that’s been aged for two days and marinated with sake and soy, and a silken slice of sea bream sprinkled with truffle salt. Chef Kim is also getting creative with his handrolls on his a la carte menu, with choices like Toro with Taku and Chives, Ocean Trout and Truffle, and Amberjack and Shishito; three, four, or six priced at $35, $40, and $70, respectively. They’re a great way to cap off a meal at this hidden gem.

And if you need a little bit of nostalgia, have some Entenmann’s when you get home.

Hoseki is open Wednesday-Saturday from 12-4pm, reservations for 60-minute omakase can be made on Resy.