Toshi Suzuki is not your typical red-sauce restaurateur.
The owner of Basta Pasta, a 24-year-old Flatiron trattoria, is a native of Japan who loves Italian culture. Later this month, he’s expanding his Roman empire, opening a cozy Italian wine bar in Chelsea called Bar B. Like a traditional vino bar, it will be stand-up only.
“No seats!” Suzuki says.
It’s quite a change from where he got his start in hospitality, managing a comedy club and male strip joint in Tokyo called Banana Power.
“The strippers wore five layers of pants and at the end they were completely naked,’’ recalls Suzuki, 56. “After each show, the audience of mostly women would throw banana pies at the strippers and comedians. It was a little silly. On the last day, we destroyed the restaurant and sprayed everyone with fire extinguishers. People panicked, the police came.’’
Suzuki opened Basta Pasta in 1990 after following his parents to New York. He’d run a Basta Pasta in Tokyo and was eager to do the same in the Big Apple.
“We opened on Dec. 7th, Pearl Harbor Day. We thought it would be easy for people to remember,’’ he says with his trademark dry, offbeat humor.
Suzuki’s unique charm and his tossed-in-translation noodles — like spaghetti with flying fish roe and shiso — have made Basta Pasta a cultish, under-the-radar favorite among restaurant industry insiders and celebrities including Yoko Ono, Susan Sarandon, Tim Robbins and Jimmy Fallon.
“The food and service is always spot on,” says John Fraser, the chef at new downtown hot spot Narcissa. “Toshi is a great host.’’
Charles Masson Jr., who until very recently was the longtime manager of La Grenouille, the classic French restaurant in Midtown, says it’s his favorite restaurant in the city.
“Toshi is a real artist,” says Masson. “He is subtle, but he can take something ordinary and turn it into something extraordinary.’’
It’s not just Suzuki’s light touch with fresh ingredients that draws in notables, but also the restaurant’s quirky atmosphere. Chefs theatrically toss spaghetti in giant wheels of parmesan, a rotating art show lines the walls and Suzuki, a stately 6-foot-tall figure with a mustache and goatee, holds court behind the bar, shaking up his special grapefruit, Sambuca and lime cocktails. Sometimes there’s even an igloo out front.
In the ’90s, when there was a big snowstorm, Suzuki and his staff would build an impromptu ice house in front of the restaurant and use it as a dining room.
“We built a snow mountain, hollowed it out, then put in milk cartons topped with tablecloths,’’ he recalls. “We filled it with candles and served people there. It was magical, but also very cold.’’
Igloo-building aside, Suzuki does little to promote his restaurants. He doesn’t advertise, and friends refer most of his clients. “I have my customers, I know them,’’ he says. “Why would I want strangers coming here?’’