The Night Kitchen

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The New York Sun

Nightlife isn’t the sort of restaurant that most New Yorkers will ever go to. It’s not a destination restaurant that happens to be in a hotel, like Gilt in the Palace Hotel or Olives in the W. It’s just a hotel restaurant. Off Times Square, barely labeled on the outside and burdened with silly funereal decor inside, it seems unlikely to draw anyone but tourists and the occasional office party. Given the cooking, that’s a shame.

The chef, Ten Vong, brings a sense of fun to a restaurant that could get away with serving utterly ordinary food. To be sure, there are burgers and calamari, but they’re tweaked considerably, and joined on the table by exotica like frogs’ legs and salsify. The menu is divided into two sections: one comprising the more workaday fare, and the other a rotating list of tapas built around a core ingredient, à la “Iron Chef.” The ingredient, and hence the list, is supposed to change weekly, but on my visits I logged a two-week stretch with no change. In the past, the secret ingredients have been citrus fruit, fresh herbs, and macadamias; when I went, every dish contained some form of melon.

Mr. Vong demonstrates an impressive ability to wrest a variety of flavors from a single element. Feta and watermelon make a summery salad ($7); sweet melon and cucumbers top seared tuna ($9). Perhaps the most dramatic offering was a quintet of lightly grilled shrimps on skewers ($12), served on a wavy plate with a well in it. The well came filled with fennel seeds and rosemary sprigs soaked in flammable liquor, in which the waiter kindled a cozy fire, which was especially welcome in the fiercely air-conditioned room. In addition to its entertainment value, toasting the shrimps over the flame gave them a complex, smoky warmth that was neatly complemented by a glass of sweet melon consommé and lemon granita.

The obligatory melon was less central in a dish that starred a top-notch scallop, seared and laid across a crisp-coated mashed-potato cake ($13). Pungent pickled matchsticks of honeydew strewn around the plate’s edge could pass for garnish until you happen to spear and eat one, after which it becomes clear that they are the flavorful keystone of the dish. True, with the ingredient being so peripheral, Mr. Vong could tweak the same dish to serve a different theme. But he doesn’t — each menu has its own fresh inventions, from sea urchin with cilantro crème fraîche on the herb menu to “hot Indian frog legs” with grapefruit sorbet on the citrus one.

The unchanging section of the menu runs along somewhat less fanciful, but still fun lines. Fried calamari rings ($12) are breaded with blue cornmeal, which gives them a morbid purple color that suits the Gothic decor. Mischievously, some of the rings aren’t squid at all, but jalapeños, a fact the breading hides well enough to make at least the first one a spicy surprise. Tired of boring old hamburgers? Nightlife’s ($15) comes on a bun with lettuce and tomato, but it’s cut into skewered pieces and served with a thick cheese fondue in which to dip each bite.

The hot dog ($16) has a gimmick too, of course: It’s at least four times the size of Sabrett’s finest, and made from luxurious Kobe-style beef. As such, it’s mostly a curiosity. The point of Kobe beef is its fatty marbling and unique texture. Grinding it, seasoning it, and putting it in a sausage casing obviates all that, although the dog is unusually juicy and tasty. Both the burger and the dog come with duck-fat-fried French fries ($7 for a side order).

The highlight of the few desserts is one that embodies the fun of the preceding meal: a plate of puffy, bready zeppole ($9) accompanied by richly caramelized banana slices and toasted marshmallows.

Apart from the cooking, Nightlife feels like a work in progress. The black-and-white decor is chilly and unwelcoming, and even the beverage service is confused. The drinks list promises two bespoke beers from Brooklyn’s excellent Six Points brewery, including the appealingly named Night Porter ($9); but these turned out to be just a figment of the menu. (There was some sort of pilsner on tap, but the bartender didn’t know what it was.) Wines suffered similar outages, on a short list that spans sakes and premiers crus. Perhaps the most reliable are the offbeat but well-made cocktails, which include a $25 martini with caviar as well as tamer inventions.

On a recent Saturday night in this culinary hideaway, Nightlife was almost empty, and the lone server, who seemed rather unfamiliar with even the static part of the menu, was severely underworked. At the evening’s peak, just two tables were enjoying the exhilarating creative stunts of the cooking; then just one. Then someone cranked up the dance music to conversation-prohibiting levels, and we left, too.

Nightlife, in the Night Hotel, 132 W. 45th St., between Sixth and Seventh avenues, 212-835-9600.


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