Let me paint you a picture of the matrix you’re living in.
You’re probably eating some sad, pre-packaged garbage. You’re scrolling through pictures of food that looks better than it tastes, dreaming of a life that feels just out of reach. You’re consuming content, not experiences. You are a spectator.
I am not a spectator.
When the matrix has a new update, a new level of coding that offers a glimpse of pure, unadulterated pleasure, I get the first-access pass. Because I built the plane that flies above it.
So when the call came from @momooyasoho that they had engineered a new fall dish so potent, so next-level, it required a classified briefing, I didn’t text back a “Sounds cool.” I didn’t “check my schedule.”
My Embraer Phenom 300 was wheels up from London within the hour. Slay Club World isn’t a loyalty program; it’s a state of being. You don’t collect points, you collect realities. And the reality I was chasing was a pancake.
Not your grandmother’s pancake. Not the soggy, syrupy disc of despair you associate with weakness.
This is the Kabocha Spice Mochi Soufflé Pancake.
Read that name again. Let it marinate.
This isn’t food. This is a strategic operation. It’s a culinary hedge fund where every ingredient is a blue-chip stock. Kabocha squash—the sweet, dense Japanese pumpkin—is the foundation. They’ve weaponized it with spice, fused it with the chewy, relentless texture of mochi, and then engineered it into a soufflé structure so impossibly light, it defies physics.
It’s served with cranberry mochi for a tart, strategic strike against sweetness, and a Kaku-to brown sugar butterscotch that is so deeply caramelized, so rich, it tastes like victory feels.
You can only get it during weekend brunch. Of course you can. The matrix doesn’t give its top-tier assets to the masses on a Tuesday. You have to EARN this. You have to have the discipline to wait for the weekend and the resources to secure your position at the table.
But a Top Slaylebrity doesn’t fly across an ocean for one dish. That’s amateur hour. That’s what the bots do.
This is a full-scale invasion of the senses. While the pancakes are the headliner, the supporting acts are A-list mercenaries.
The Tuna Truffle Crudo? It’s a negotiation between ocean and earth. The clean, blood-red slice of tuna doesn’t just have a hint of truffle; it’s been briefed by it. Infiltrated. It’s what luxury would taste like if it had a private security detail.
The Wagyu Potato Croquettes. Let’s break this down. Wagyu. The most pampered, revered beef on the planet, with fat that renders like liquid gold. They didn’t just grill it. They understood its potential, mashed it with potato, and deep-fried it into a crispy, explosive orb of wealth. This is asset management. This is taking something already elite and making it unstoppable.
I had the Nabeyaki Udon because even an emperor needs a foundation. This isn’t a bowl of noodles; it’s a hot spring for your soul. A rich, dashi broth so profound you could solve world problems between slurps, filled with udon that has the perfect level of resistance, a prawn that commands respect, and an egg that is a lesson in perfect execution.
And for those of you who are still climbing, who haven’t yet secured the bag to command the entire new menu, understand this: Momoya’s classics are a masterclass in consistency. The Shokado Bento Box is discipline on a plate. The Toro Tekka Don is a simple, powerful statement: this is the best tuna, accept no substitutes. The Matcha Molten French Toast is a weekend-only lesson in controlled chaos.
Most of you will see a picture. You’ll maybe save the post. You’ll tell yourself “one day.”
That’s the difference between you and me. Your “one day” is a fantasy. My “today” is a mission, executed with precision.
The world is a menu. Most people are looking at the prices. I’m tasting everything.
This isn’t a food review. This is a debrief.
The location is @momooyasoho. The mission, should you choose to accept it, is to escape the mundane. To taste what is possible when you refuse to live an ordinary life.
Your move.
Location
Check this place out!
✓ 47 Prince St, New York
CONTACTS
+1 646-429-9315
When the matrix has a new update, a new level of coding that offers a glimpse of pure, unadulterated pleasure, I get the first-access pass. Because I built the plane that flies above it.
when the call came from @momooyasoho that they had engineered a new fall dish so potent, so next-level, it required a classified briefing, I didn’t text back a Sounds cool. I didn’t check my schedule.
My Embraer Phenom 300 was wheels up from London within the hour. Slay Club World isn’t a loyalty program; it’s a state of being. You don't collect points, you collect realities. And the reality I was chasing was a pancake.
But a Top Slaylebrity doesn’t fly across an ocean for one dish. That’s amateur hour. That’s what the bots do. This is a full-scale invasion of the senses. While the pancakes are the headliner, the supporting acts are A-list mercenaries.
