The dressed-up Chinese at Wakiya gets lost in translation.
2 Lexington Ave., at 21st St. (Gramercy Park Hotel) (212) 995-1330
Dinner: Mon.-Sat., 5:45 p.m.-11 p.m, Sunday, 5:45 p.m.-10 p.m.
Cuisine: Contemporary regional Chinese
Vibe: Moody Asian den
Occasion: Swanky night out
Don’t Miss Dish: Shanghai soup dumplings
Drink Specialty: Cucumber martini
Price: Appetizers, $6-$34; Entrees, $13-$38; Desserts, $9-$14.
Reservations: Highly recommended
Designer-clad servers amble down a red carpet that streams through
Wakiya's glossy dining room, flourished with floor-to-ceiling red
tassels and dark wood tables. "It'slike a catwalk," Richie Notar, a
managing partner of both Wakiya and Nobu restaurants, enthusiastically
notes over the phone. "Women love it."
On one visit, I spied Anna Wintour dining front row center. I nearly
expected she might pull out a pad and jot down her impressions of
Wakiya's fall food collection. As fashionable as the scenery, every
dish arrives well-groomed.
Hotelier Ian Schrager had his heart set on upscale Chinese from the
inception of the newly posh Gramercy Park Hotel. After scouring the
globe and sifting through three potential candidates, he imported chef
Yuji Wakiya from Tokyo along with much of the menu - a fusion of
Szechuan, Shanghai and Cantonese traditions. This is Chinese food seen
through Japanese eyes, and, though the plating is artful, it comes at
the pivotal expense of flavor.
There is something to be said for a feisty General Tso's chicken or
a succulent Peking duck carved at the table. Sadly, the Peking duck
here turns up disassembled, a skimpy stockpile of dried-out meat and
rubbery skin. I couldn't resist the temptation of a side-by-side
comparison with the "Vegetarian Peking duck."
Tightly wound layers of yuba - as bland as baby food - laced with
shiitake mushrooms, bamboo shoots and yoji berries, had me longing for
a $1 Chinatown scallion pancake. A dainty spicy beef salad and cloying
muck of Tong Tsu (sweet & sour) sea bass failed to live up to their
signature, gutsy flavor profiles.
As I attempted to maneuver around the intricacies of the menu, I
felt as if I had fallen down Schrager's rabbit hole into an Asian
Wonderland. Like the potions that tempt Alice, Wakiya's plates come
replete with an exhaustive set of warnings: "Don't touch the steaming
kettle," our server urged. "Don't eat the chouten peppers."