When a reader takes the trouble to write a note suggesting a restaurant, I pay attention. The truth is, I'm much more likely to hear about restaurants people didn't like than to get a recommendation for one they did.

So it was that, when a reader suggested I check out Kushiden on University Avenue for tavern-style, small-plate Japanese food, I added it to the list, even though — to be brutally honest — I'm getting tired of tavern-style, small-plate Japanese food. It's so 1990s.

My first visit to Kushiden had me a little worried — at lunch, myself and my dining companion were all alone. For more than an hour. Service was good, though, since neither the waitress nor the chef had any distractions. It was considerably busier the next time I visited and can be even more so in the evenings, the waitress told me.

When you enter the glass-fronted shop, the menu opens before you: It's all neatly printed on a blackboard above a bar along the rear wall. But there are printed menus, as well. The decor is spare; the focus is on the food.

My girlfriend, a local foodie who knows her Asian food, was impressed as she read over the menu, which lists more than 60 items — fried, grilled, donburi (rice bowls), salads, omelets, side orders (from cold tofu to chazuke), gyoza, burgers and desserts. Some of the dishes gave us pause: roasting cheese on tomato ($4.50)? Teri-mayo chicken ($7.50)?

"There are all kinds of things I've never seen before," she said. "What is nanban?" I was able to enlighten her on that: It's skinless, boneless chunks of pillowy tender fried chicken. You can have it in a plate lunch with rice and salad ($8.30) or as a donburi ($7.50), served atop a bowl of rice and topped with a crown of rich mayo-based sauce. I had had the latter for lunch on another occasion and envied the cook's ability to prepare the chicken so delicately. The term nanban refers to the sauce, which is sort of the Japanese equivalent of tartar sauce.

"What is mentaiko?" I wondered. "Hmmmm, buta kimchee don — never seen that before," she said. "Tanin don," I mused. "Kakiage don?" "Oooooh, tataki, I know what that is and I love it," she said. "Me, too," I said.

So I ordered beef tataki don ($8.50) — thin slices of beef flash-seared and still pink in the center, drizzled with tangy vinegared shoyu and fine-grated daikon radish, delicately arranged in a spiral over a bowl of rice. Well-executed, pure, satisfying. The term tataki refers to the cooking method — seared outside, rare inside — and is used with both tuna and beef.

We decided to share a caesar salad ($7.50) because we wanted to see what the Japanese take on that might be. And, just as we suspected, it was a take, all right: a tangle of greens, carrot and tomato, with a poached(!) egg in the center, bacon bits throughout and a subtle dressing that bore no relation to garlicky, creamytextured caesar.

"Well," she said, "It's not a caesar, but I like it. Very delicate." This dish was a golden example of what happens when a recipe crosses cultures; as I once noticed when I ordered a pasta dish with bacon bits at Angelo Pietro, the Japanese Italian restaurant chain, these tasted more like fish than pork — not nastily so, just differently so.

And, as with another salad I enjoyed at Kushiden, it was a generous serving — ample for two. That other salad — tofu ($7.50) — was also cross-cultural, with silky squares of tofu nestled on a bed of greens, adorned with tomato and cucumber garnish, a light shoyu-based dressing (seemingly oil-less and quite delicious) with a garnish of frizzled nori and tiny dried anchovies (aka kamaage, iwasi, iriko). The bit of crunch and salt-sea tang from the nori and anchovies really made this dish.

In the end, my friend chose a dish she did know well, just to see how it would be: curry don ($6). The curry arrived dark and spicy, oozing into the bowl of rice below. "Definitely not from a mix," she said, just as I was about to say the very same thing. We both thought it was some of the best Japanese curry we'd ever had. "Mmmmm, I'm happy," said my friend.

But not so happy that we didn't leave room for one of the two types of desserts they serve: parfaits (four flavors, $5.50-$6.50) and pancakes with ice cream (four flavors, $5.50-$7). As curious as I was about the pancake-ice cream idea, I didn't think I was ready for it on an already full stomach, so we chose a mango parfait ($5.50), which arrived in a tall, tapered glass and consisted of sweet mango puree, vanilla ice cream, cubes of coconut jelly (we guessed it was kanten-based) — sort of halo halo meets ice cream sundae. And delicious. And a pretty hefty serving — we weren't able to finish it all.

A Kushiden specialty (thus the name) is kushiage — deep-fried Japanese-style kebabs on bamboo skewers. They offer 10-piece sets that are either hearty or more healthy ($15); there's even a vegetarian version ($16). As we are avoiding fried foods, and 10 pieces sounded like a lot, we skipped this.

As with any small plates place, Kushiden can quickly get pricey if you order multiple dishes. But when you're looking for a quick bite, well executed, in nice but unpretentious surroundings, I can recommend it. I'll definitely put it on the list for dining before or after movies at Varsity.

Oh, by the way: I get it now that many of the dishes that puzzled us are very common tavern foods — some of which I've eaten before, though I didn't recognize the Japanese names. Of those I puzzled over above: mentaiko (spicy cod roe, imported to Japan from Korea); buta kimchee (common-folk food in which buta, pork, is stir-fried with kimchee); tanin (eggs and beef stir-fried with green onions); kakiage (mixed tempura).

Reach Wanda A. Adams at wadams@honoluluadvertiser.com.