The Uninvited Dinner Guest: WD-50 Review
I had been yearning-for-yet-procrastinating a meal at Wylie Dufresne’s, WD-50, Manhattan’s top molecular gastronomy venue, since it opened. And now I know why.
For food lovers, going to WD-50 is like a traveler taking in the Taj. You must go, once. But in a world of Eiffel towers and Antarctic expeditions, and in a city with too many fine restaurants, must you return?
My fellow diners were special-occasioners, tourists, and self-proclaimed foodies from New Jersey. These were not regulars. The majority enjoyed the tasting menu (as letting someone else choose your dinner in a place this cerebrally demanding can put you at ease as much as a house-infused yuzu and Meyer lemon saketini). My tourist friends asked for a chef-autogrphed copy of the menu; too many people were snapping pictures of the dishes with their iPhones. The anniversary couple to my right used words like “different” and “unusual” to describe their experience, over and over again. I fought the temptation to hand them a thesaurus.
Though my reservation was not easy to come by, there were at least five empty tables that would remain so all night. This was a place ventured into with purpose and pre-work; if is not mentally prepared for the experience, one does not amble in.
Molecular gastronomy, pioneered by Spain’s Ferdinand Adria, is a modern culinary trend famous for the application of scientific techniques and tools to cooking. Dufresne takes shrimp and turns them into noodles; pizza into pebbles, and bone marrow into thin discs of fat. There are vapors and flavor tabs that dissolve on your tongue; all that’s missing is the lady that gets sawed in half and her friend who disappears.
There were hits and misses; the dishes were evenly divided between the two. A smoky pear and pepper cocktail was over-smoked and hard to choke down; a bourbon tart cherry drink hit was a perfect 10. When our attentive server asked of our meal experience, and we mentioned that the cocktail was too smoked, he enthusiastically agreed and removed the item from our bill, unasked.
For starters, the foie with fennel, malt balls and sherry vinegar jam reintroduced me to a long term love of mine, foie gras. It was presented as pebbles, tumbling down the plate and turning their way around malt balls that evaporated in my mouth. As one who enjoys a slice or a shmear; I learned how vivid even a tiny pebble of foie can be. This has changed my experience of foie moving forward; it had my devotion, now it has my respect.
Dufresne’s touted popcorn soup was another matter entirely. I enjoy a bright, vivid, flavorful corn soup, but this one lost its way. Had they forgotten to pop the corn? I felt as though I was eating a pureed polenta, or fresh corn cut with oatmeal. The flavors were muddied, and the texture was thick. The color was a dull grey-yellow; not the vivid sunshine I was looking for. Similarly, I like my bone marrow hot and soft in the bone; digging is part of the fun. These room temperature fat discs had no bone in sight, and slicing marrow with a knife and fork just seems impolite. Plus, the temperature made the flavor retreat; I was not to experience any of that crusty, melty, salty, fatty marrow umame I craved so.
As each dish came down; conversation stopped. First, we had to figure out what each item was. The tamarind-soaked jicama suddenly tasted like butterscotch…wait, what was this again? A wave of foaming coconut hanging over my Wagyu seemed more like a stiff-peak beaten vanilla meringue to me. There was deliberating, there was plate sharing, there was investigating, and there was a halt to traditional dinner flow. I enjoy a meal with flavors that are present, noted, and take their seat as the conversation returns. I do not enjoy a dinner guest that is constantly interrupting.
For the mains; the Wagyu tasted like liver, like too much good-quality beef does, and was served more traditionally than the appetizers, which was a trend for the mains. Coffee gnocchi were a grey miss, and the coconut meringue was confusing. These supporting players didn’t add to the dish; they were interrupting our star. The turbot with barbecued lentils, cauliflower and dried apricot was cooked to perfection, and the barbequed lentils could have come straight from the B&M can.
Deserts continued the trend; a toasted coconut cake was fine, and the brown butter ice cream was more of a thrill to conceptualize than eat.
I enjoyed my experience. Perhaps I’ll return, for a lunch special. I am glad that foie and I have a new spark in our relationship. WD-50 is a must-go, and a must-see, and boy am I glad Dufresne is taking the risks he is. In other industries, R&D is carried out in Ivory Towers or funded laboratories, where experiments can go awry. In the business of molecular gastronomy; diners pay for the privilege to be a lab rat.
**
WD-50
50 Clinton StreetNew York, NY 10002Phone: 212.477.2900
Starters: $14 – $17
Mains: $24- $35
Cocktails: $14- $18
Wine list: Complete, complex
Reservations are recommended, though not always necessary
All credit cards are accepted.
For food lovers, going to WD-50 is like a traveler taking in the Taj. You must go, once. But in a world of Eiffel towers and Antarctic expeditions, and in a city with too many fine restaurants, must you return?
My fellow diners were special-occasioners, tourists, and self-proclaimed foodies from New Jersey. These were not regulars. The majority enjoyed the tasting menu (as letting someone else choose your dinner in a place this cerebrally demanding can put you at ease as much as a house-infused yuzu and Meyer lemon saketini). My tourist friends asked for a chef-autogrphed copy of the menu; too many people were snapping pictures of the dishes with their iPhones. The anniversary couple to my right used words like “different” and “unusual” to describe their experience, over and over again. I fought the temptation to hand them a thesaurus.
Though my reservation was not easy to come by, there were at least five empty tables that would remain so all night. This was a place ventured into with purpose and pre-work; if is not mentally prepared for the experience, one does not amble in.
Molecular gastronomy, pioneered by Spain’s Ferdinand Adria, is a modern culinary trend famous for the application of scientific techniques and tools to cooking. Dufresne takes shrimp and turns them into noodles; pizza into pebbles, and bone marrow into thin discs of fat. There are vapors and flavor tabs that dissolve on your tongue; all that’s missing is the lady that gets sawed in half and her friend who disappears.
There were hits and misses; the dishes were evenly divided between the two. A smoky pear and pepper cocktail was over-smoked and hard to choke down; a bourbon tart cherry drink hit was a perfect 10. When our attentive server asked of our meal experience, and we mentioned that the cocktail was too smoked, he enthusiastically agreed and removed the item from our bill, unasked.
For starters, the foie with fennel, malt balls and sherry vinegar jam reintroduced me to a long term love of mine, foie gras. It was presented as pebbles, tumbling down the plate and turning their way around malt balls that evaporated in my mouth. As one who enjoys a slice or a shmear; I learned how vivid even a tiny pebble of foie can be. This has changed my experience of foie moving forward; it had my devotion, now it has my respect.
Dufresne’s touted popcorn soup was another matter entirely. I enjoy a bright, vivid, flavorful corn soup, but this one lost its way. Had they forgotten to pop the corn? I felt as though I was eating a pureed polenta, or fresh corn cut with oatmeal. The flavors were muddied, and the texture was thick. The color was a dull grey-yellow; not the vivid sunshine I was looking for. Similarly, I like my bone marrow hot and soft in the bone; digging is part of the fun. These room temperature fat discs had no bone in sight, and slicing marrow with a knife and fork just seems impolite. Plus, the temperature made the flavor retreat; I was not to experience any of that crusty, melty, salty, fatty marrow umame I craved so.
As each dish came down; conversation stopped. First, we had to figure out what each item was. The tamarind-soaked jicama suddenly tasted like butterscotch…wait, what was this again? A wave of foaming coconut hanging over my Wagyu seemed more like a stiff-peak beaten vanilla meringue to me. There was deliberating, there was plate sharing, there was investigating, and there was a halt to traditional dinner flow. I enjoy a meal with flavors that are present, noted, and take their seat as the conversation returns. I do not enjoy a dinner guest that is constantly interrupting.
For the mains; the Wagyu tasted like liver, like too much good-quality beef does, and was served more traditionally than the appetizers, which was a trend for the mains. Coffee gnocchi were a grey miss, and the coconut meringue was confusing. These supporting players didn’t add to the dish; they were interrupting our star. The turbot with barbecued lentils, cauliflower and dried apricot was cooked to perfection, and the barbequed lentils could have come straight from the B&M can.
Deserts continued the trend; a toasted coconut cake was fine, and the brown butter ice cream was more of a thrill to conceptualize than eat.
I enjoyed my experience. Perhaps I’ll return, for a lunch special. I am glad that foie and I have a new spark in our relationship. WD-50 is a must-go, and a must-see, and boy am I glad Dufresne is taking the risks he is. In other industries, R&D is carried out in Ivory Towers or funded laboratories, where experiments can go awry. In the business of molecular gastronomy; diners pay for the privilege to be a lab rat.
**
WD-50
50 Clinton StreetNew York, NY 10002Phone: 212.477.2900
Starters: $14 – $17
Mains: $24- $35
Cocktails: $14- $18
Wine list: Complete, complex
Reservations are recommended, though not always necessary
All credit cards are accepted.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 4:32 PM
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