Holding the door open as we climbed the steps to the restaurant, Stacy, our friendly waitress for the evening, smiled and thanked me for being so persistent. Apparently, two almost back-to-back private parties barred me and G.B., and our good friends Matthew and Linda, from visiting one of Honolulu's newest eateries.

J is chef Jay Matsukawa's second attempt at severing this treetop restaurant's ties from the downstairs buffet area. And this time around, he has done it right.

The problem, however, is you mention The Willows and people think immediately of buffet. You say "J at The Willows" and people — like Matthew and Linda — ask "What's that? Is that at The Willows?"

Even once we were seated, Linda and Matthew whispered that they had no idea that this upstairs room ever existed.

Well, it does.

Slivers of roasted garlic top the delicate slices of Japanese hamachi.

Since my last visit here three months ago, I noticed the menu has been slightly tweaked, which is not at all surprising for a new restaurant that's still trying to distinguish itself from the competition.

"J's" search for an identity, however, is slowly developing and being defined within Matsukawa's two-page menu that's tucked in between handsome pieces of koa wood.

As we scanned the menu, two appetizers jumped out at Matthew and Linda. At the top of the list was the Japanese hamachi ($12) and the second was the seared yellowfin ahi ($12).

Not wanting to overindulge in starters, they opted to share the yellowfin ahi that would be accompanied by herring caviar. Slightly seared, each piece of ahi was topped with a dollop of caviar, then surrounded by micro shiso (an aromatic green, jagged-edged leaf) and a soy reduction. The flavors melded well without disguising the delicate flavor of the ahi.

While at first hesitant of her decision to start with the crispy fried soft-shell crab ($9), G.B. would end up pleased with her choice, breaking off pieces of the crab and eagerly sharing them with Matthew and Linda, and urging them to dip it into the slightly spicy remoulade or the Thai curry sauce.

I could taste the ocean as I bit into the transparent-like, thin slice of hamachi, which was garnished with a sliver of garlic and black sesame seeds, then finished with a sprinkle of sea salt.

One of the most surprising preparations of the evening came with my bowl of French onion soup. Rather than following the classic French method of crumbling bits of stale bread into the soup then blanketing it with a layer of cheese,

Matsukawa instead dunks an entire Gruyere "cheese sandwich" into the caramelized-infused broth. This version may take some getting used to for the purist who's looking for a gooey spoon of cheese and onions with each ladle of soup, but it's worth trying over and over again to get to that point.

When it was time to order our entrees, Matthew joked there would no longer be any taste swapping, explaining that he was determined to have the entire bowl of oxtail ravioli ($27) all to himself. And he did, commenting that the ravioli was obviously homemade.

The rest of us were more generous and willing to share our entrees.

G.B. had the evening's special opakapaka ($27), which was covered in parmesan cheese then set atop a bed of lobster-enhanced risotto. The two-piece portion was generous enough so everyone could have a taste, even Matthew.

Linda's roasted-garlic-and-peppercorn-crusted beef tenderloin ($31) was done to a perfect medium-rare temperature and enhanced with an 18-year-old balsamic vinegar sauce.

The second surprise of the night happened when I was served my grilled veal chops ($30). Expecting a single chop, I was instead presented with what looked like a rack of lamb. But Stacy assured me that it wasn't. Resemblance aside, the veal chops were much more subtle in flavor than lamb, only to be heightened by an ethereal Marsala wine butter sauce. The earthy flavor of the sauteed porcini mushrooms combined with a mound of truffled mashed potatoes gave this dish a touch of haute cuisine.