The New Yorker
"One recent blustery evening at this Lower East Side bar, a slight man in a white T-shirt came to the rescue of a woman battling a wind-jammed door—he ushered her in, pulled out a stool, and caressed the crease out of her menu. The man was Kenta Goto, who spent seven years buttoned up in vest and tie, shaking cocktails at the ritzy Pegu Club. Now in his own cozy, chic establishment, he attends to everything: he ferried okonomiyaki—savory pancakes stuffed with things like pork belly, octopus, or mushrooms—and other snacks to diners; as final drops of drink (Yuzu-Calpico Fizz, with fermented milk soda) after glorious drink (Sakura Martini, with gin, sake, maraschino liqueur, and a brined cherry blossom) vanished, there he was, tableside."
"The best drink of all, perhaps, was the Sakura Martini at Bar Goto, which was so subtle and delicious that I almost ditched my rule to never consume two martinis on an empty stomach (it's a good rule)."