new york city

It should come as no surprise that Jessica and I watch a lot of food television shows. This started with me somewhere about age five, watching daily reruns of Justin Wilson’s cajun cooking show one summer. It continued on sporadically through high school with shows like Great Chefs, Great Cities, the theme song of which I occasionally sing after a beer or two. When I got to college I discovered the Food Network, and the food/cooking show fascination blew up. Seriously. You should think of it in terms of a bottoming-out montage in a drug drama. I started off with a little Molto Mario and East Meets West. A touch of Sara’s Secrets to pass the time. Then it was Jamie Oliver and Barefoot Contessa and Anthony Bourdain and Paula Deen, and shit, I might as well leave Emeril on while I do my homework. A Good Eats Marathon weekend? I was on the couch for the whole thing. But the ultimate high was, of course, Iron Chef. I remember the first time I saw it. It was 3 am in the Stephenson tv room with Chris and a couple others, flipping through the channels. “What’s this weird Japanese cooking show?” “Why the hell are they taking this so seriously?” “This is so odd, but… yeah, okay… just a taste… another couple minutes…” “FUKUI-SAN! YES, OHTA? THE VIEWER IS TOTALLY ADDICTED.” And so it went. I watched every single episode of that show over the next several years, and I loved every damn minute of it. The problem though, was that no matter how much I was enamored with the charms of the chefs, and no matter how much I paid attention to the technical advice proffered by Fukui-san, and no matter how much I thought the dishes looked tasty, I ultimately had no idea what they actually tasted like. Who was I to scoff at the challenger’s foie gras tacos with ramps and ouzo sauce? I’d never even seen these things in person, let alone tasted them in novel combinations.

No longer, my friends. NO LONGER.

Monday night, Chris, Jessica, and I went to WD-50, and the dinner we had there has ruined normal restaurants for me forever. It was so insanely delicious and well-planned and well-executed and subtle and clever and playful and – did I mention delicious? because, yeah – FUCKING UNBELIEVABLY, TONGUE-SHATTERINGLY DELICIOUS that every single thing I put in my mouth from now on will be compared to the twelve courses of heaven we got. So, yeah… now you have to hear about it.

Okay, so first things first. WD-50 is owned/run by Wylie Dufresne, who you may recognize from various appearances on Top Chef, etc. He’s a practitioner of molecular gastronomy, which you will be totally unsurprised to find out I am fascinated by. I first heard of WD-50 a few years ago (possibly while researching mol. gast. after Homaro Cantu was on Iron Chef America, though I’m not sure), and I’ve had it in the back of my mind since then that I’d like to go. Cut to last fall. My friend Willie and his sister, Erin, were in town and suggested WD-50. Unfortunately, finances and pre-Paris-trip work complications left Jessica and I unable to join the fun, but Chris went. The reviews were glowing and so was my jealousy. We resolved to go, and it was decided that we would have dinner there for my birthday. It came and went, but we ended up being busy and not going. A month or two passed, and we kept forgetting. I suggested it for Jessica’s birthday; she opted for Taco Bell. More time passed. It was going to be my graduation present: busy, forgot. It was going to be a random June treat: wedding, Providence, work, blegh. Finally, at the eleventh hour, we made a reservation last weekend for 9:30 on Monday night.

We arrived. We were seated. We ordered the twelve-course tasting menu with cocktails. What follows is a listing of what we were served, followed by notes/reactions that we wrote down on a napkin during dinner and in marathon review when we got home. Some effort has been made to differentiate between what Jessica/Chris/Ian said/thought in these notes, but the voice may shift a bit and there may be some pronoun disagreement here and there. If you prefer, assume we three underwent egodeath and sub in “we” for all personal pronouns / names.

Cocktails round 1:
Ian – Old School: peanut butter vodka, carbonated concord grape juice, some grape liqueur. Holy fucking shit, peanut butter vodka!!!! This was by far and away the best drink any of us had the whole night. It was carbonated, though there were no bubbles. It tasted like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it also tasted like vodka, but it also tasted like candy! First, it was a sip of carbonated grape, and then a second later, in walked in a really intense, powerful wave of peanut butter and went, “ta-daaa!”

Jessica – Ladies’ Lunch: vodka, apple, cucumber, egg white foam. The surprising thing here was that somehow one tasted only cucumber, not vodka, at all. Also it was surprising how unsurprising the egg white was. Basically no taste, perfect texture, maybe a little sweet. Jessica got it because egg white is weird, but it wasn’t out of place or notable or strange. It didn’t taste like vodka at all. It was delicious, but didn’t have the “wow” of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Tasted like cucumber juice, not an alcoholic drink.

Chris – Pumpernickel: carbonated rye, carroway seed crust, molasses. The drink itself was good, but the crusting on the side wasn’t that great. A really fancy/good example of a sort of common drink. The least “wow” of any drink of the night.

Course 1 (amuse bouche) – Shrimp wrapped in cucumber with tamarind pearls (possibly infused tapioca balls) on a goat cheese ravioli with culantro. The culantro was amazingly great, and the goat cheese was really good. The whole thing had a sort of ceviche zing to it? The cucumber was an exceptional crunchy husk for the tender shrimp. Ian says tamarind balls were nice, Jessica thinks so less.

This course introduced us to a substantial dilemma. We wanted to taste each of the components on the plate separately, but they were better when combined into a single “greedy bite” with bits of everything.

Course 2 – “Grilled corn pebbles” with lime mayo. What is a corn pebble, one may ask? Perhaps a corn pebble is best explained by simply replaying the conversation to be heard at our table upon our first tasting:

Ian: “It looks like fireworks!”
Jessica: “What is going on???”
Ian: “Eeep! It’s attacking my mouth!”
Chris: “What we just ate was like an angry CocoPuff.”
Ian: “Oh my god, this is so fucking good.”
Chris: “Me and Anthony Bourdain back in the 80s – we used to do a line of corn pebbles before we even hit the bar.”

It was like a full-on assault of deliciousness. It didn’t just stimulate THAT area of your tongue that it touched, it went everywhere; it was like being enveloped in corn delight. Jessica sez: “well, it was an assault, anyway. Very smoky, and that was great, but also weirdly and aggressively drying. Completely desiccant-ish. Like chemical warfare with liquid-smoke-flavored-cornnuts.”

This photo (stolen from WD-50 site) isn’t actually of the corn balls. It’s of pizza balls, but the idea and presentation are the same.

EEEP!

Course 3 – “Knot foie.” This was a long squared-up tube of what I think was actually foie gras (as opposed to, like, the usual expected foie-infused-something-else that one might expect in this restaurant) tied in an utterly mysterious granny knot (how?? it is a mystery!!). Topped with tiny little balls of what the waiter literally admitted were “rice crispies” and tiny little dots of golden raisin sauce and kimchi sauce. This was my least favorite. It was objectively tasty and good, but relatively speaking, not as good as everything else. The bites that had the sauces on them were the best part. I don’t think the sauces by themselves were so spectacular, so it was either the “greedy bite” effect, or else I just needed something else to augment the foie gras. Not that it was bad, it was just a little rich and gooey for me. Not like I even know about foie gras being bad. The rice crispies were probably the second-most ridiculous example of “molecular gastronomy” that we had all night, but they didn’t act ridiculous on the plate. Even though they were weird and goofy and sciency and like nothing you’d usually eat in a fancy restaurant, they were completely and totally NECESSARY: not just delicious, but RIGHT for the dish. Jessica loved the whole thing very much – more than I did. She says she did dig the salty fatty decadent meatiness of it, which is exactly what I didn’t like.

(photo again shameless swiped… sorry WD-50!)

Course 4 – Hamachi tartare, served with asian pear, tahini, and grapefruit-shallot jam. Oh dear god. This one was off the chart, just totally spectacular. Both sauces were to die for, though the tahini was the better of the two. The fish itself qualified as the best sushi I’ve ever had. The cool thing about this dish was that you got multiple “greedy bites:” you could pair the fish with the sauces together and separately, with or without the asian pear, and the pear with the fish without the sauces! It was a funhouse of delicious goos! Alone, the asian pear was maybe one of the lamest elements of the whole dinner, but teamed up into a greedy bite, was, unsurprisingly, fucking great.

While we were eating this course, Jessica leaned in and informed the table that she was forced to admit to herself that nothing she could ever offer to Ian would ever make him smile the way that he was smiling right now. Perhaps the phrase “anal sex” was used. Just then, someone from the next table over hissed “SHHHHHHHH!!” We’re relatively certain that it was a coincidence, that they didn’t actually hear her. We’re not really sure, though.

Cocktails round 2:
Ian – Rice, rice baby: sake, horchata, and some liqueur. It tasted more like what it sounded like than my first round. It was an excellent combination of booze, and I’d gladly order it again anyplace (perhaps expecting slightly more for 15 dollars, but…).

Jessica – Ph.: vodka, raspberry, [something], rose. The rose was the most notable note. Jessica really, really liked it, but it didn’t necessarily have the “wow” factor, again. I might have liked it more if it reminded me less of Jessica’s rose lipgloss.

Chris – Drinking miss daisy: Serrano chili infused tequila and lime soda. Smelled not hot, but had a real zing! Was really, really good, but maybe not something you want a whole glass of. Sort of like hot peppers in chocolate – you’re a little skeptical of it, but it really does work better than you’d think.

Course 5 – Eggs benedict. Omg fried hollandaise, you guys. The super-thin bacon – er, chips? crisps? – were slightly less great: I thought they were actually even superfluous, though Jessica disagreed with that. We both agreed that they were very normal tasting. Not much “wow.” Just sorta bacony. I thought the texture and the taste with both really great on the egg: somewhere between sunny-side-up egg yolk and hard boiled egg yolk. Jessica didn’t love the egg. She says that the texture struck her as less “fancy science weirdness” and more “slightly overcooked.” Neat shape, though. Jessica sez: “I want to build myself a little house out of blocks of fried hollandaise. And then eat it.”

(stolen)

Course 6 – King crab tail with soybean noodle and cinnamon dashi. The crab itself was not anything weird, but just so spectacularly amazingly delicious. Jessica sez: “Stop being so good! That’s naughty! I loved that it was hidden under a little blanket of noodle, so that you could pull up a corner and peek under it and it was a fun surprise.” The broth was also just painfully unbearably delicious. A bowl of the broth itself would have been fantastic: there were too many good flavors in it! Subtle and complex. Jessica didn’t recognize the cinnamon at all, though, weirdly enough, but recognized thai basil in it and was very proud of herself for that. The edamame was a particularly nice textural addition to the soft delicate crab.

Course 7 – Chicken liver spaetzle with radish, pine needle sauce, and cocoa nibs. This was the first dish that had as much food in it as I wanted: the first one where you weren’t left wanting more, and it wasn’t because it wasn’t good – you just got a lot of it. The chicken liver was better than basically any other piece of chicken, ever. But it was also a really excellent example (Jessica says the best) of the benefit of the greedy bite: the liver + radish + whatever that green was + the pine sauce + cocoa nib = rilly rilly good. The cocoa nib was weird and crunchy and woody by itself, but when you let itself sit on your tongue with everything else, it kind of enforced this bitter chocolaty undertone that set the perfect note for everything else on top of it. Isn’t this is supposed to be the mark of a super-badass chef: making the offal taste even better than the good cuts of meat? Jessica suspiciously hoists one eyebrow at calling this “offal” and asks: “Isn’t chicken liver basically pate?”

I believe this was the point during the meal at which Chris really defined and perfected his “Happy Food Dance.” Apparently the HFD is performed while consuming the second-to-last bite to, he says, “kind of psych myself up for the last one.”

Course 8 – Beef tongue with black cherry miso, quinoa fries, and palm seeds. I had never had tongue before! It was paper-thin and completely and 100% tender. Jessica has had tongue before, and insists that those descriptors have never before been applied to tongue, ever. But this stuff was so tender that it disintegrated under your fork and turned into pure beefy deliciousness. Better than any roast beef I’ve ever had. It was sitting on a cherry miso paste that was perhaps a little overpowering, though very good, and served with palm seeds that had been compressed into some sort of gel or something and infused with some flavor, which I wasn’t really a big fan of. This sounds like maybe we liked it less because we didn’t like those two components, but the tongue itself was so good that it was actually one of our favorites. But – even if the comment about offal didn’t quite apply before, I think it definitely applies here.

Which was, incidentally, one of the really neat details about the meal taken together as a whole: the constant juxtaposition of high-class and low-class. The proteins kept varying between super-fancy expensive stuff (hamachi, king crab, foie gras) and common stuff (egg, chicken liver, beef tongue). The cooking methods, or finished products, did the same (spaetzle compared to tartare).

Course 9 (“pre-dessert!”) – Yogurt with rhubarb and olive oil jam. Pre-dessert!! We had pre-dessert! Who DOES that?!?! And who knew olive oil was a delicious flavor that you would want to eat a spoonful of for dessert? But it totally was. Jessica sez: “I picked my stick of yogurt up and ate it with my fingers, and that was fun.” The rhubarb ribbons were my favorite part. It was such a bright and tart and shocking accent to the rich, thick, gooey, fattiness of the yogurt and the jam. The whole thing was almost sort of like a cherry cheesecake in that sense: fatty and rich with this blast of fruity highlight.

The waiter told us in reference to this dish: “The chef recommends mixing your flavors,” which was Jessica’s second-favorite quote from him all night.

Course 10 – Jasmine custard with black tea and banana. Jessica says that this was probably her least favorite plate. “Not that it wasn’t spectacular! Just – like Ian with the foie – the least great, comparatively. The black tea powder was my single favorite part of the plate, and there wasn’t enough of it. I wanted to try it mixed with every single other element on the plate, and there was too little to do that. It was very very strong, though, so I understand why there was so little.” I really liked the custard. It was shockingly cold, so that I suspect it wasn’t just made like normal ice cream. It was probably flash-frozen with liquid nitrogen or something. The banana underneath it was a fun surprise, too! Jessica asked the waiter a smart question about the plate, and correctly identified an object on it as a “crisp” and was pretty proud of herself again.

(stolen again)

Course 11 – Toasted coconut cake and brown butter sorbet, with carob and smoked cashew. This thing literally made us high. Really. Literally. We got food-stoned. We were giggling and could not control ourselves. This was probably the best plate of the night, though it sort of doesn’t count, both because it was a dessert and also because it was so off-the-charts ridiculous – perhaps infused with E.

Ian: “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
Chris: “It’s so smoky! It’s so smoky! It’s so smoky!”

The cake was WARM and the texture was moist and steamy but not like any cake you’ve ever had before. I don’t think it was made the way normal cakes are made. There were weird little squares of soft – maybe jellied? – coconut on the plate, as well. The waiter just said “coconut,” but it wasn’t just “coconut.” AND BROWN BUTTER FLAVORED ICE CREAM. Omg omg omg. Ridiculous. The smoked cashew! Arg. But the butter flavored ice cream! How can something this explodingly perfect be allowed to exist in a world like ours?

Chris: “This cake has declared jihad on my unpleasant memories.”

(we sure are thieves)

Course 12 – Yuzu ice cream and cocoa packets. This was what brought on Jessica’s favorite quote from the waiter all night: “The cocoa packet is completely edible.” Good thing he told us – we were so high and infatuated that would have been gnawing at the slab of granite this stuff was served on if he hadn’t specified that the consumability stopped at the food on top. But this course was just showing off. Another good (I think the best) example of things that apart were good, but together were way way better: actually more than the sum of their parts. Jessica sez: “I think this was the closest they came all night to the “unnecessary” complaint that you always hear on, like, Top Chef about molecular gastronomy. The cocoa packets were only GOOD, but they looked so COOL that it made it better – the coolness was perhaps even better than the goodness, and that’s what edges into unnecessary territory. Not like I really believe this complaint – this is just the closest I came to seeing it all night.”

Okay, so I know we’re running a bit long here, so I’ll wrap things up with some comments about the restaurant itself. I was a little worried going in that it would be fancy and stuffy with the stereotypical fork-overload problems and snooty waiters. It had none of this. It was just really laid back and hip, unpretentious and nice. There was no formality for the sake of formality. All of the other diners were dressed how we were. The waiters, who just wore plain shirts and aprons, were chatty and low-pressure but still informative. The price was a bit steep for sure:

Jessica: “Whew… that bill is for as much as my new bike.”
Ian: “That’s as much as a lot of things.”

Fuck it. It was an amazing, unforgettable splurge. Totally worth it.