Restaurants come and go, especially in New York, and I usually don’t get attached to them or mourn them, but this sudden departure hurts a bit. For several years, Pacific Echo was the reliable little place around the corner for a Saturday night dinner. It was the first place my daughter learned to sit down and behave in a restaurant. This was where she learned to love California roll, edamame and green tea ice cream.
When we first started going there several years ago, we kept going back for the seafood sate and the special rolls that did not use seaweed — something that I had been told to avoid for obscure medical reasons involving a drug interaction with blood thinners. My wife, not always in the mood for sushi, became a fan of a particular marinated tofu dish.
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