Morimoto, which opened in Philadelphia in 2001, is named after its executive chef Masaharu Morimoto. I had wanted to visit the restaurant for some time. However, as I only return to the east coast once a year, I’d never really had the opportunity.

But this year I was able to secure a reservation for myself, my brother, and six of our good friends. As it turns out, the experience was unforgettable and well worth the wait.

Morimoto’s interior is smoothly modern. Narrow, but deep, the restaurant’s space is flanked by small tables along the walls, while larger booths occupy the middle section, interlocking with each other. The kitchen and bar are in the back of the restaurant, immediately behind one of the few tables the restaurant uses to accommodate big parties like ours. The chest-level interior walls are lit from within by lights that slowly rotate through a spectrum of colors.

It took time to peruse the menu and decide which of the tempting options to choose. I finally settled on the pork belly and the wagyu, with the “rogue beer flight” as my beverage.

Our food arrived staggered; some of us ordered apps or sushi, while others did not. The portions were such that most of us got to at least taste some of everything ordered, and somebody was always on-hand to finish off a dish that somebody didn’t have room for. Highlights included the beautifully-plated lobster ceviche salad, a delicious soba carbonara (soba noodles, bacon and scallops, white truffle oil) and a duck entree called “Duck Duck Duck.”

There were four beers in the sampler, each signature brews unique to the restaurant and ranging from a pilsner to a very dark, chocolatey ale. My favorite was the second-to-darkest — it was either the soba or hazelnut ale.

The pork belly was braised for ten hours and served on a bed of white rice porridge. The meat was extremely tender, and sauced with something that gave it a slightly sweet edge. It played well against the sharper, almost acidic tang of the porridge.

My entree was an eight-ounce cut of wagyu; extensively marbled beef, perfectly cooked. It was served with three accompaniments: a spicy ponzu sauce, a kind of Japanese barbecue sauce, and some wonderfully coarse crystals of Japanese sea salt. There was a side of pan-fried potatoes and a small salad, to help counteract the extreme richness of the beef. This steak was richer and more tender than anything I’ve ever had before. There was a texture to it, which I suppose comes from the fat content and provenance of the meat, that was quite unique.

Downsides? Well, it was crowded and as a result, a touch loud. There were at least two areas I saw available for more private dining experiences, however. I’ll try and get seated there when I go back — and I will absolutely go back: this was one of the best dining experiences of my life.