WD-50: Wylie Laughs Again

[Pigging by Wilfrid: June 22, 2009]

Wylie Dufresne has a sense of humor.   And that's something any chef in today's economy could use.

These have not been the easiest of times in which to sell a pricey, experimental menu of challenging dishes, where the pleasure offered to diners is often as much intellectual as gustatory.

Given the concept of WD-50, Wylie has no easy outs.  It's not as easy for him, as it is for other chefs, to put a cheeseburger on the menu, to offer pulled pork sliders at the bar, or to throw nice little earners like chicken gizzards, pig's tails and duck necks onto the menu.  Sure, there's no law against it: but it wouldn't be WD-50 any more - wouldn't be the one place in New York to experience modern molecular gastronomy (oh sure, Tailor is hanging in there).  And what would be the points of the super-expensive, starship kitchen if Wylie resorted to flipping burgers.

And so Wylie continues to boldly go...  Well, suffice to say the current tasting menu is right out there on the edge.  Funny, curious, mostly satisfying, and above all uncompromising.   As I have repeatedly disclosed, I am a long-time fan of this unusual, quirky, friendly, well-run restaurant, and I regard it as a restaurant which has steadily improved over the six years of its existence - to such an extent that when one reads a comment on Chowhound about small portions, or needing to go to Katz's afterwards, you wonder how recently the moaner actually ate here.  Having said all that, Wylie is still willing to throw curve-balls which will drive some diners crazy.

He makes me laugh.

Every dish on the tasting menu right now is new to me, and after an oyster with amazing pickled yucca, the fun starts with a bagel gag.  Wylie has always played games with traditional neighborhood foods, and what could be more Lower East Side than bagel and lox?  The fish is dehydrated by the kitchen (no, I don't pretend to understand the science) and appears here as a sort of smoked salmon cotton candy.  There's a cream cheese crisp on the side.  The bagel - it's an "everything" bagel - is like no other bagel you've eaten.  It is...well...bagel ice cream.  Yes, the first bite is a surprise.  But it makes complete sense as a palate cleanser as well as trompe la langue.

 

In my own words from two years ago, "It's what he gets up to with the foie..."  Wylie has been up to something with foie since the restaurant opened (foie, sardines, cocoa nibs), and this was another of his liquid torchons.  Slice the smooth liver and a passionfruit coulis gushes across the plate and mixes it up with the Chinese celery.  Masterful technique as ever here, but I'm not the biggest fan of passionfruit - I found the sharpness overwhelmed the foie.  I loved the old version with a liquid nori filling.

The first thing to say about the scallop dish is that the main ingredient was surpassingly fresh and sweet, and served almost raw: this would be fine scallop sashimi.  The second thing you have to say is that you don't always get beef tendon with scallops.  It comes two ways here - as an ingenious rendered savory skin wrapped around the scallops (I am not sure if Wylie was going for some kind of snappy sausage skin effect here) and as a crisp textured like a prawn cracker crowning the dish.  The server described it as a chicharron.  The crumbly garnish was a yeast streuzel, which was really no more than a neutral balance to the other parts of the dish.

And don't you love the way Wylie refuses to use the center of the plate?

The first meat dish proper (and I was relieved not to be confronted with the obligatory rectangle of fish which punctuates most tasting menus around town) was one of the dishes I suspect some diners would find really quite annoying.  It's a neat illustration of the way this kitchen can summon good ingredients, ingenious techniques, and polished execution, all in the service of  a curious whim.  In this case, as best as I can express, the whimsical desire to re-create the experience of eating next-day chicken McNuggets from the refrigerator.

Now, settle down.  This is a very enjoyable dish, but that is exactly the memory it will trigger in almost anyone who eats it.  The chicken in the "cold fried chicken" is an exceptionally tasty terrine - something you'd be happy to find on a charcuterie plate.  It's dressed in breadcrumbs and surrounded by dabs of hotsauce.  Tabasco, to be specific.  The sense of fun continues with the mashed potatoes - or rather the triumphant recreation of slightly lumpy mash using not potatoes but ricotta cheese.  And a swashbuckling dab of caviar on top.

I would pack this dish for any picnic - it's really tasty - but it's a daring inclusion on a $140 tasting menu.

The next dish puzzled me too, but in a less good way.  Snails - decent specimens, but nobody gets snails as good as Craft's for some reason - served with yellow lentils.  Okay, but the lentils were strongly, very strongly flavored with orange, and orangey snails I just can't quite get.  I frowned over this one, trying to figure out the angle, but it beat me.

The duck leg I could get, though.  In fact, it's even funnier than the upscale McNuggets.  Brace yourselves.  You remember how supermarket ham looks and feels when you take it out of the plastic packet?  Very pink, slippery, moist.  How much skill does it take to recreate this effect using duck leg meat?  The result is a kind of duck ham, deeply flavored, slithery on the tongue.  Roll this into a hero with some fresh coleslaw, and you would have a killer sandwich.  It's a sizeable helping too.  I have to admit that not everyone at the table liked this - there was a slight sense of  "Why is he doing this?"  And as extra cheek, it's served over a popcorn pudding.

Finally, you can fill your boots with the lamb loin, a fairly straightforward dish by WD-50's standards, served nicely pink over a pungent black garlic romesco.  Pickled ramps are in there somewhere too.

Very tame vanilla ice cream arrived as pre-dessert, with a balsamico dressing and a raspberry on top.  But the party was far from over, because it was followed by the acme of Reese's Pieces.  The biggest, creamiest Reese's Piece you'll ever eat.  Hazenuts rather than peanuts, chocolate, a hint of coconut, and a final touch which was nostalgic for me - a chicory foam, reminding me of the flavor of chicory coffee with which I grew up.  As you'd expect, the dish is appropriately salty too - a good dessert for non-dessert eaters,

Then a more pudding-like plate.  Straight down the line apricot brioche, a long twist of buttercream, not unlike white chocolate, and a lemon-thyme sorbet to cut the richness.  Nicely balanced.

Something for the chocolate people.  The globes conceal chilly ice cream, the packets are filled with grainy cocoa powder.  I challenge anyone still to be hungry.

At the same time, one must acknowledge the cost.  $140 buys twelve courses, but it's a serious price for dinner, and I just know some of the humor involved will rub people the wrong way.  If you're open-minded, go and enjoy.  The deal on bottles continues indefinitely - 50% off anything on the list if you choose the tasting.  Chandon de Briailles'  2001 Corton Grand Cru "Les Bressandes" went down much more smoothly at $110 than $220 - and you'd be hard put to find it much cheaper retail.  Nevertheless, with aperitifs, this is a several-hundred-dollar meal, and counts as a special occasion.

Happily, on a weekend evening, the place was full of celebrants.

All the WD-50 you need right here.