At Ninja NY’s Japanese-French-American fusion fare, guests are whisked into the subterranean space by elevator, led to the dining area via a secret path (peopled by live “ninjas” poised to scare the living daylights out of you), then brought to the recesses of a feudal castle where each dungeonlike chamber houses a single table. Chopped conch in garlic-butter sauce explodes in flames after its fuse is lit; and the meteorite pot—a clam-and-soy-milk soup over greens and pork loin sliced tableside—is cooked to blandness by 800-degree rocks. After some too-beautiful-to-eat dessert, like a tiramisu bonsai tree made of green-tea leaves, puff-pastry wood, and cookie-crumb dirt, the meal concludes with a lengthy magic show from yet another ninja, this time armed with a deck of cards.
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