In France, Bordeaux in particular, the word cru refers to “growth” – as in pedigree, but it’s also used when referring to a wine estate. In New York, Cru is a new restaurant aiming for both meanings of the translation: It offers a two-volume, 3,500-bottle wine list in a sumptuous, clubby dining room. That’s because Cru is owned by Roy Welland, a wine-loving options trader with so much wine on his hands he needs a restaurant to showcase it. And such is his pedigree that he’s known to open precious, rare bottles whenever he’s in-house to send tastes to tables at random.

Helping him administer all of this generously priced wine is the general manager and wine director Robert Bohr, who delights in keeping all of this liquid organized. Though he gladly helped me navigate through the 13 pages of Austrian Gruner Veltliners in Volume I of the wine list, followed by the 18 pages of red Burgundy in Volume II, he seemed more excited, one night last weekend, by the notion of pouring us different tastes with each course, sometimes two different wines at the same time. That’s easy to do because he keeps 52 wines on hand each night to pour by the glass or half glass (a 3-ounce taste), including a 1982 Chateau Pichon-Lalande Bordeaux for $150 (6 ounces) or $75 for half.

In the kitchen, chef Shea Gallante comes to Cru with a pedigree of his own: He used to be chef de cuisine at Bouley. No doubt it was there that his mentor inspired him to cook food sous vide, or in Cryovac bags, so as not to lose even a milliliter of natural juice, or to deconstitute liquids such as espresso to sprinkle as an accent condiment. If that sounds as if he’s playing with the food too much, you have to see it, and then taste it, to realize that Mr. Gallante is simply pushing the limits of conventional cuisine with equal parts sense of humor and sense of adventure. You’ll recognize everything on your dish, but wonder where that hint of licorice comes from, or how that tuille could taste like beets. Dinner at Cru begins before it begins, which means that the chef sends out amuse bouches in waves. I suspected that, perhaps, someone in the restaurant tipped him off that a critic was in the house, but I saw the same plates going out all around me, which means that Mr. Welland’s directive of generosity extends to the food here, as well.

Amuses included tiny beet-flavored tuilles in the shape of a cone filled with gorgonzola dolce (sweet Italian blue cheese) and an unadulterated beet puree that was the essence of earthy sweet beets. A tray of pink lollipops on closer inspection revealed itself to be prosciutto wrapped fontina cheese panini cut down to the size of Chiclets. Next came ethereally light codfritter puffs made with whipped egg whites and a dollop of lemon caper-mayonnaise inside the fritters. Then followed delectable tiny tartlets made of salty montasio cheese that were filled with a tangy, cream cheese-like robiola. A shot glass of soup arriving soon after was comprised of summer corn, smoked trout, and lobster mushrooms, topped with a licorice-flavored foam. Finally came a miniscule taste of summer: heirloom cherry tomatoes with an intense basil foam.

From among the crudo selections – Italian for raw – I tried two tunas (both $6) side by side. The first was a white tuna, sashimi-quality albacore, sprinkled with toasted breadcrumbs spiked with fried capers, dried espresso, and olive-flavored praline. It was magnificent. So was the second one, made with sashimi-quality blue fin, served with baby snap peas, capers, and red-applesauce.

Selections from the list of “firsts” included a white polenta “soup” oozing with burrata, an extremely creamy mozzarella-style cheese drizzled with fruity olive oil and an earthy hazelnut essence ($12). Gently cooked sweet Florida shrimp ($14) sat atop a savory loose puree of chickpeas flecked with baby leeks and guanciale (cured pork cheek). Delicate rabbit cotechino (sausage) was paired with lentils, speck ham, and a subtle blast of mustard flavor ($14). “Liver and Onions” was far from what it sounds like: caramelized foie gras with a spring onion confit and somewhat strange spring onion-flavored ice cream ($18). It was served with and accompanying a taste of 1920 Boal Madeira that, when tasted between bites, filled my mouth with waves of caramel.

Pastas, offered in half or whole portions, made for a perfect intermezzo course. The pappardelle ribbons with tender squid, zucchini, and zucchini blossoms were perfectly in keep ing with the season ($12/$20). A risotto made with the small-grain vialonenano rice was excellently prepared (a rarity in even great restaurants), made with creamy sea urchin, tomatoes, and tarragon ($14/$23).

Main courses included a meaty, coriander dusted monkfish served cioppino style in a garlic-scented fish stew with razor clams, diver scallops, and fresh fennel ($33). An unbelievably tender Maine “soft shell” lobster – which the chef later explained has a softer shell than lobsters from Nova Scotia but is nothing like soft-shell crab – was served with garlic-braised escarole, creamy corona beans, bacon, and horseradish ($36). It was extraordinary.

Hudson Valley duck breast, pan-seared a beautiful brown, was paired with a rather simple but tasty medley of roasted eggplant, turnips, figs, and savoy cabbage ($33). Grain-fed veal sous vide was, as expected, amazingly tender and juicy, perched atop a bed of sweet-pea and barley risotto with buttery trumpet mushrooms ($36). Served with a dollop of warm black truffle-anchovy mayonnaise, it was one of the best dishes on the menu.

Desserts (all $9), prepared by pastry chef Will Goldfarb, are excellent across the board. A rich but light hazelnut and chocolate financier was drizzled with cocoa syrup and topped with a whipped apricot gelee. A wonderful tarte au chocolat was flavored with passion fruit and cocoa nibs. Though I wanted to try the Caramel Trifle, served with a glass of 1975 Chateau d’Yquem, the $100 price tag was a bit daunting. Instead, I ordered the pear sous vide, juicy and warm, and called it a night.