BlackBook Magazine

Vampy Chinese in Gramercy Park Hotel doesn’t bring the bling.

By Katherine Faw Morris

I thought Wakiya would test my sense of the ridiculous. All the elements were in place: House restaurant for Ian Schrager’s extreme makeover of the Gramercy Park Hotel from musty love in the afternoon-er to overstimulated, members only urban dream. Luxe Chinese fare prepared by a Japanese chef and overseen by the management posse from sushi heaven Nobu. Drunken anorexic 15-year-old Belarusians. It should have been train-wreck spectacular. It should have been Bianca Jagger on a white horse and coke spoons in every bathroom. But it wasn’t. It was Russell Simmons. In a sweater vest.

I saw Russell just as he was leaving, and I was being seated at Wakiya, in a stiff straight back chair upholstered in black damask. He was my only celebutard sighting of the night. I wasn’t even surrounded anonymous hordes of vertebrae-baring preteens of vaguely Slavic, Brazilian, and/or alien descent, but by, like, normals. My deflated expectations were somewhat lifted, though, when I took in Wakiya’s décor. The place looked like a straight-up vampire boudoir. Everything red and black and severe. The tables were arranged on either side of a long corridor laid with a scarlet runner and shielded by curtains of silky tassel. Twisty candelabra, tapestries, and matte black porcelain place settings emblazoned with tiny phoenixes. It was way Blade.

Though the spot comes off like a theme restaurant for former cutters who are now proud members of the alternative minimum tax bracket, the food was less ideologically consistent. Wakiya takes its name from aforementioned Japanese chef, Yuji Wakiya. The menu, however, is decidedly haute Chinese—from crispy Peking duck to delicate dim sum—and is served in small-plates fashion from categories like “hot,” “cold,” or “chin shan” (bare bones protein, tea-steamed and delivered tableside in smoking bamboo baskets). I was initially suspicious of the “family-style” advertisement, but Wakiya’s big problem ended up not being portion size, which was surprisingly healthy, but more like the price-to-gastronomic innovation-to-thumping house music soundtrack ratio.

After you order, Chef Wakiya assigns your table a specific meal plan, willing student or not, and determines how your dishes will arrive. One of the hot dishes—spicy fish lettuce wrap—was the first to present itself. Leaves of iceberg lettuce framed a small bowl of diced fish tossed with asparagus chunks, which while mildly spicy, was heavily salty. Ginger scallion chicken came next and was a welcome blood thinner. Served cold and marinated in orange, the thin strips were garnished with scallion shavings and basil leaves. The chilled meat had a subtle layer of flavoring that was certainly missing in another hot dish, the lobster with black bean sauce. And let me just preface this by saying: I L.O.V.E. hash browns with something bordering on religious conviction. That said, the measly chunks of lobster meat in this dish were totally smothered by home fry-esque potatoes swimming in a sodium mantle of syrupy sauce. Not what Jesus would do. At all. A Shanghainese fried noodle dish finished off the meal on another heavy note. While the lo mein noodles were thankfully sans grease, the pedestrian skinny scallop and mystery meat toss-ins had me checking to see if I could get half chicken and fries here, too.

But here’s what’s good—the desserts and libations actually do rise deftly above the corner Chinese spot fortune cookie and grape soda standard. Sweets like an almond orange mélange rendered me momentarily ignorant of the painful lack of a Snejana or Vlada in my immediate vicinity. With a taste and presentation reminiscent of a deconstructed creamsicle, the tart orange sorbet atop an almond flavored soup, floating with little islands of meringue, was divine. The cocktail program was similarly inspired. Devoid of belly bombing blobs of simple syrup, a Watermelon Cooler with shochu, basil, and ripe watermelon managed to be sweet without the sticky. And a Strawberry Bloody Mary, served in a thick shot of sugared strawberry puree, delivered a swift afterkick courtesy of a jumping Rocoto pepper.

Despite a few minor victories, Wakiya’s price of admission is just too steep. High-quality Chinese take-out is totally fantastic for $30 at 1am. For $200 at 10pm—minus a herd of glamazon giraffe or even Heidi and Spencer from The Hills for peripheral entertainment—not so much. What was supposed to be dazzling just ended up disappointing, dour, and completely un-ridiculous.

2 Lexington Ave. (E. 21st St.) gramercyparkhotel.com 212-995-1330 Gramercy Park