Céleste Yamamoto's House

“On a Tuesday evening in Brooklyn Heights, one discovers that Céleste Yamamoto's House has opinions about potatoes. The shoestring format is a declaration. The single-fried exterior is adequate, which in this context constitutes a form of ambition. The interior communicates the potato's agricultural origins — present and largely coherent. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. These opinions are, on balance, correct. One finds, upon reflection, that the fries were the correct decision.”

“The shoestring fry at Céleste Yamamoto's House does not apologize for existing. This is, as it turns out, the correct posture. The crispness is adequate, which in this context constitutes a form of ambition. The potato interior is present and largely coherent. The grease is generous in the manner of a host who means it. One admires the lack of apology and returns to express this admiration. This guide recommends the fries and nothing else. This is sufficient.”

“One does not seek drama at Céleste Yamamoto's House. One seeks fries. The shoestring format is a declaration of intent, and the kitchen largely honors it. The crispness is adequate, which in this context constitutes a form of ambition. The potato flavor emerges mid-experience, which is somewhat later than ideal but not without its own logic. The grease content is generous in the manner of a host who means it. The napkin earns its keep. This guide recommends visiting without expectations and departing, perhaps, with adjusted ones. Return visits are not a matter of choice but of inevitability.”