At the risk of covering David Chang more ardently even than the staff of New York magazine (who have name-checked the award-winning chef in the magazine or on the Grub Street blog every 1-5 days since March 4 – twice on March 6, days before Ko’s online reservation system even went live), I’m putting up these last few photos of the Momofuku Ko tasting menu.

J took these photos after the Ko reservation gods smiled upon me yet again one fine Thursday morning, and we were able to get him and his wife in for dinner the week before her milestone birthday. (And yes, it was just good fortune, and not Craigslist. That, and a timely telephone conversation with SYB.)

So a few things have changed on the Ko menu since SC and I were at the restaurant two weeks earlier. For starters, Times reviewer Frank Bruni finally got in, after his well-publicized difficulties in securing one of the dozen seats. (Critic Gael Greene, too, though that’s a somewhat more complicated story. Also soopling.) It seems that the chefs are now making more of an effort to vary the menus for parties of two. At J and J’s dinner, one was served this bright pea soup with grilled crawfish tails and trumpet mushrooms, while the other had our grilled pork belly, oysters and kimchi consommé:

And instead of our wonderful seared scallop dish, J and J had deep fried soft-shell crabs — newly in season. Difficult to say which of us got the better end of things on that score. (The smoked egg with caviar, shaved foie gras and deep fried short rib crowd pleasers appear to remain unchanged.)

J and J split on dessert, too: one McDonald’s-inspired deep fried apple pie (with that luscious sour cream ice cream) and this Cereal Milk Panna Cotta, with crushed corn flakes, brittle chocolate and avocado purée, which SC and I had noticed set in front of other diners during our visit.

How many more changes need to be made to this menu before I can justify a return visit?

Catching up on Ko: three stars and a “promise of unwavering transcendence” from Bruni, a rave from Tyan Sutton of Bloomberg, Time Out’s take and a brief moment in the spotlight, courtesy of The Wall Street Journal’s Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan.

Here’s Savory Tidbits’ Momofuku Superlative Matrix — a compilation of the critical commentary on Ko in one handy spreadsheet.

The restaurant’s overloaded, but entirely democratic online reservations system has been the subject of breathless coverage since it went live on March 11. No special treatment: earlier today, The Times restaurant reviewer bemoaned his inability to nab one of the 32 reservations that go up every morning at 10AM. (New York magazine’s Adam Platt and his “many diligent assistants” fared better and rated his meal a rare and rapturous four stars.) Earlier in the week, I was in the throes of my own Ko-fueled frustration, but unlike Frank Bruni I got lucky, scooping up a just released cancellation for a prime Wednesday evening dinner slot.

Behind the metal latticework-wrapped façade is a minimalist, utilitarian interior; the space was formerly home to Momofuku Noodle Bar, which moved to larger digs up the block in November. SC had already checked in by the time I arrived at 7:30PM. Despite prior warnings made to discourage a secondary market for reservations, the hostess did not check for photo ID.

The set-up remains essentially unchanged from the restaurant’s noodle bar days. While backless wooden seats may be fine for Noodle Bar and Ssäm Bar, they are perhaps less suitable for Ko’s 2+ hour tasting menu format. Fortunately, most of the patrons (like the staff) seemed to be in their 20s and 30s — a demographic used to wiling away hours on hard, backless barstools.

To keep track of all of the courses — 8 actual courses, plus a handful of amuse-bouche and a pre-dessert of sorbets — there were tickets printed up with the list of the night’s dishes: Amuse, Fluke, Consommé, Egg, Scallop, Foie, Rib, Miso, Pre, and Apple. Also on the tickets were notes about drinks and menu substitutions or dietary restrictions, e.g., Ebi for Fluke, Pea for Consommé, “No Dairy.”

SC and I were seated in positions 7 & 8 tonight, which put us near the front corner of the counter, from which we were able to catch every slice and dice, sprinkle of sea salt, dunk in the deep fryer and more than a few snarky comments from Chang, chef de cuisine Peter Serpico (in foreground) and Co.

As has been noted, there are no servers at Momofuku Ko: the chefs present all the dishes over the counter, and therefore, are entitled to the tips. The two or three non-chef staffers — all women — were tasked with hostess duties (door management, coat checking and seating), dish clearing and drink serving. There were no printed menus — Chang told us that the dishes “have changed a little every day” since the restaurant opened — so we were reliant on the chefs to describe the plates for us. Most of these interactions felt a bit perfunctory… understandably, as the chefs seemed to have a lot of other duties to concern themselves over. For the most part we resisted the urge to ask follow-up questions, and as a result, several menu details were omitted, or just missed… though sometimes later filled in as we overheard the same dish explained for our fellow diners. (Thanks, by the way, to SC for her quick note-taking on the BlackBerry.)

Amuse-bouche of homemade mini-English muffins, topped with whipped pork fat (oh!) and chives:

Despite his somewhat prickly reputation and known tendency towards outburst, Chang seemed almost jovial this evening, and even found time to check in with me and SC a few times during the meal. During the service, there were stretches during which he would disappear, perhaps to check in on his other nearby restaurants. At one point he returned to show off a newly stuffed baseball bat-sized casing crammed with beef; another time, he came into the kitchen bearing a handful of scallops on the half-shell, which he tossed onto the grill as snacks for himself and the other chefs.

We learned that on his days off, Chang likes to sleep late and order in Chinese food – who doesn’t? – and that he has gotten “pretty sick” of the current Ko menu and its iterations… though when it would be changing, he couldn’t say.

Momofuku Ko’s tasting menu is a more refined implementation of Chang’s culinary aesthetic, which until now, has been best glimpsed on Ssäm’s late night menu. The dishes themselves have been analyzed endlessly — and by those better equipped with the vocabulary than I — so I’ll just note that the standouts for me included the “Foie” (pictured below: a white porcelain boat of lychee, candy-like pinenut brittle and Riesling gelée, buried under a delicate mound of snowy foie gras shavings, which melded into an unexpected, but delicious combination of tastes and textures), the “Rib” (a rare, juicy chunk of beef, braised for 48 hours before being deep-fried to produce a spectacular crust) and the “Scallop” (one of Chang’s favorites, too: perfectly seared, and juicy within.)

The most ordinary dish, though still good, was probably our final savory dish of the night, the “Miso“: a bowl of soup accompanied by a grilled rice cake slathered in… butter, maybe? and served over stewed cabbage. Coming off the ultra-rich Scallop-Foie-Rib stretch, it served as a palate cleanser. Speaking of which, the pre-dessert cantaloupe sorbet over candied pineapple was packed with more cantaloupe flavor than any fruit I’ve ever eaten. To finish: the fried apple pie — oh, fried pie! — with a quenelle of sour cream ice cream and a smear of salty toasted miso hit all the right crispy, creamy, savory and sweet notes. (SC and I noted that a couple of other diners had received what appeared to be a panna cotta dessert, served with chocolate and avocado mousse.) By that point in the evening, though, we were experiencing serious feasting fatigue, and couldn’t manage more than a few bites before we reluctantly allowed the hostess take our plates.

Previous diners’ reports have claimed problems with the pacing of the dishes — with the chefs rushing them through their meals — but we found the opposite true. And although we were more than happy to linger and take in the spectacle of food preparation, there were several gaps in the service during which our stomachs’ fullness receptors had ample time to kick in and inform us that we had eaten entirely too much food.

For us, the 7:30PM start time was ideal: midway through the dinner service, as the chefs were easing into their evening’s routine. But at two hours and forty minutes, our meal did run long, and by the time we rose, staggering, from our seats, the couple with the 9:30PM final reservation had long been waiting. This morning, in navigating through the reservations system (out of curiosity only — really!) I noticed that instead of 15 minute intervals, the seating times have been adjusted to allow for two-hour seatings in staggered groupings at 6PM, 8PM and 10PM, with a gap between 6:30PM and 8PM.

Good to know, if ever I get lucky again.

Momofuku Ko photo set on flickr.

Fuller description of our 2½ hour+ experience will follow — all my focus now is on processing this glorious meal… and catching up on tonight’s Top Chef — but in the meantime, here are a few photos of the twelve courses we sampled at David Chang’s newest venture.

Deep fried sweet shrimp heads:

Fluke sashimi with spicy buttermilk sauce, poppy seeds and chives:

Chef Chang, who wandered in and out of the open kitchen throughout the service:

Smoked coddled “hen egg” with Hackleback caviar, onion soubise, sweet potato vinegar, fingerling potato chips and fines herbes:

Seared scallops, with almonds, pickled radish and bacon puree:

Braised and deep-fried short rib, grilled scallion, pickled carrots, stewed daikon and mustard seeds:

Check out my full Momofuku Ko photo set on flickr.

The staging was in the round, with scenes played out amidst sliding panels and in every nook and corner of the stage, which made for interesting, if occasionally obstructed views. It all began with a jolting bang (a Confederate flag burning and a hanging) and ended on a somewhat more hopeful note (a wedding). In between there were all kinds of brutality, and quite a bit of sex and swearing. The sprawling cast and rapid-fire series of vignettes made it difficult to invest much emotion into any of the characters’ plights; as a result, the violence and loss did not resonate as intended. What should have been horribly shocking, felt contrived, or worse: gratuitous.

Variety called the play “clever, attention-getting and not very nice”; The New York Times assessed that “the whole adds up to less than the sum of its parts.”

After such depressing fare, we went in for the comfort of ramen noodles. Months ago, we were thwarted in our first attempt to visit much-hyped Ramen Setagaya; this time out, the newness had worn off sufficiently for us to be seated with no wait. (Well, also, it was 10:30PM.)

The narrow glass-enclosed restaurant on First Avenue is the first U.S. location of a popular Japanese ramen chain — just part of a larger Ramenaissance afoot in the city. (See also: newly-opened Ippudo.)

To start, vegetable gyoza. Store bought (beware!), but nicely pan crusted:

Setagaya’s signature ramen is the shio, or salt, ramen. I found the noodles pleasingly firm (there is a row of cooking timers on the kitchen wall to ensure this) and the toppings fresh — grilled-to-order pork slices (which I removed), seaweed, marinated bamboo shoots, julienned green onion, and half a soft-boiled egg, which had just the right custardy consistency. The super-authentic broth is “10 percent meat and 90 percent ingredients such as dried anchovies, clams, scallops, mushrooms, ginger, garlic, and (the secret weapon) Vietnamese salt, all boiled for five to six hours every morning.” It was light, with a complex, distinct seafood flavor which I rather enjoyed; those like my friend who prefer a heartier broth may be better served at Minca. (For what it’s worth, New York magazine likes Setagaya’s ramen the best.)

Oh, and on the way home, I met my first ever Academy Award winning director — riding the 2 at midnight with his son and Academy Award winning wife, no less.  Stars… they’re just like us!

Grassroots Tavern is, not to mince words, a dive — “the only honest dive on one of Manhattan’s most gimmicky streets,” according to Time Out. Located in the basement of the landmarked Daniel LeRoy House, the bar has been around in its current incarnation since the mid-1970s, though its history as a drinking den dates to the 1940s. Cheap booze, low lighting, tin-pressed ceilings, battered wooden tables, dartboards (BYOD, though), an actual phonebooth by the front door and scary bathrooms…. the unpretentious vibe is a main reason that in 2007, Grassroots Tavern was named one of the 100 best bars in America by Esquire. There’s even a resident dog and cat prowling the grounds usually, though I didn’t see them tonight.

Worlds collided over mugs of beer, which was a fine thing… for the most part. And here, pitchers start at $9 – Bud, but still! – a price point rapidly going the way of the Noo Yawk accent. We sprung for the somewhat more upmarket Brooklyn Lager: it was a special occasion after all.

$1 baskets of popcorn were not going to tide us through this night. We weren’t nearly inebriated/college-aged enough for Mamoun’s next door, and the neighborhood’s tiny ramen joints probably wouldn’t accommodate our group of seven for dinner. We opted in the end to keep things simple by merely crossing St. Mark’s to Je’Bon — a newish noodle shop with a Thai, Japanese, Indonesian, Malaysian, and Cantonese menu. Usually I find such culinary schizophrenia suspicious, but the hour was late, and we were starving, so I was willing to make an exception here. And maybe it was the hunger, but my Pad Thai with Mixed Vegetable was surprisingly decent, and at just under $9, a bargain. I’ll remember this place for the next time I “trek through the tacky.”