Communal dining at Momofuku Ssam Bar in New York
Okay, so I lied. I said I’d cover both Momofuku Ssam Bar and Eleven Madison Park in this entry. But the fact is I just discovered I have no photos from my evening at Eleven Mad, so I am awaiting my dinner companions to send theirs over. This means I won’t get to the Eleven Mad dinner till next post. But it’s all good because I have plenty to say about Ssam Bar.Momofuku Ssam Bar is the closest thing to a gastropub of Chef David Chang’s family of Momofuku restaurants. (Ssam is in reference to the Korean term for "wrap" and indicates dishes in the Korean cuisine that involve wrapping some meat and pickled veggies in a lettuce leaf and dipping in condiments of sesame oil, salt, and pepper or soy sauce before enjoying.) We went on the Sunday night of Labor Day weekend and was told there would be close to a two-hour wait. Fortunately, like Ippudo, the hostess is willing to take down a number and text when the table was ready. That’s when we made our way over to our usual waiting spot at Sake Bar Decibel.When we returned to Ssam Bar, we were seated on little stools (not sure how I feel about this) at a picnic-style table right next to the brightly lit kitchen. The interior is otherwise dark and heavily wooded (or so I was told). With wooden floors and walls, the boisterous sound of diners could get overwhelming, but it was not bad at all this particular evening, and I had no problems hearing our conversation at normal voice level. The tables are long and meant for sharing with other parties, a concept I very much admire and would employ in my own gastropub. As shy as I am, there’s something about communal dining that really strikes me—I guess I am infatuated with the idea of making new friends over a plate of spectacular food. Pubs should foster a social atmosphere, and what better way to do it than by forcing everyone to rub elbows with strangers?Anyway, on to the important stuff…the food.The menu here changes according to what I assume is seasonal and also at the whimsical mercy of the chef. Our first course was oysters on the half shell which were served pretty naked as all good oysters should be to preserve the flavor’s integrity. Despite my digging around online for a menu, I cannot recall where the oysters were from. But what I can recall is the general feeling that the oysters were underwhelming. Fresh, yes. Spectacular, no. I had better oysters sitting on a park bench outside SF’s Ferry Building (gotta love me some Kumamoto oysters).Next up were duck pâté, uni (sea urchin) with heirloom tomatoes, jellyfish salad, and cold pea soup. Again, everything was good, but nothing was mind-blowing. For the prices we were paying for these small plate offerings, I was expecting something more satisfying. Now I’m not saying the food isn’t good; I’m just saying I’d think twice about paying these prices for this food. You see, I have this Theory of Gastronomical Satisfaction that has developed into a fully bloomed theory over the years. I used to call it a “sliding scale triangle theory thingy” but only came up with a proper name for it today. So my Theory of Gastronomical Satisfaction is this:
Christine Ha’s Theory of Gastronomical Satisfaction:
- There is a triangular relationship between: (a) quality of food, (b) price point, and (c) length of time until gratification;
- There is a linear relationship of expected satisfaction between quality of food and price point, and quality of food and length of time until gratification;
- There ideally should be an inverse relationship between price point and length of time until gratification unless, of course, the food quality is off the charts.