50 Clinton Street
New York, NY 10002
(212) 477-2900

My youngest brother is in culinary school. After years of preparing for a secure but unfulfilling white-collar career, he said to hell with it and followed his passion. He's happier now than he's ever been, and a couple of weeks ago it was his birthday. Because courage like his should be rewarded, and because the allocation of life's material pleasures to those who lack such courage is as commonplace as it is fundamentally unjust, my other brother and I decided he deserved an extravagant night of New York gastronomy. One destination came to mind immediately.

Walking down Clinton Street on the Lower East Side, you could be forgiven for not noticing WD-50. Situated next-door to a unisex hair salon with a bright pink sign, the restaurant's facade is an unassuming plane of brick, glass and wood. The only identifying mark is a bronze-on-bronze panel perpendicular to the featureless oak door, so subtle you can't read it from more than three feet away. Inside is a sleek dining room in which all axes lead to the open wall in the back, where chef Wylie Dufresne--unmistakable with his signature ponytail and mutton-chop sideburns--bounds about his immaculate kitchen. He is busy creating the most challenging fare in Manhattan.

The restaurant I have most often heard WD-50 compared to is Per Se, and the comparison is more fair than you might expect. Dufresne certainly has the chops to go toe-to-toe with Keller, having cut his teeth as sous-chef to Keller's four-star rival Jean-Georges Vongerichten. And both Dufresne and Keller have a penchant for joke dishes: deconstructions of old culinary saws that elevate them to the level of haute cuisine. But Keller's gags, confined as they are by the champagne wishes of his clientele, always come off a bit too precious--his "macaroni and cheese" topped with butter-poached lobster; his "oysters and pearls" sporting a half-ounce of osetra caviar. Dufresne, in contrast, is unabashedly honest in his references to the Jewish delicatessens of his neighborhood--a tongue sandwich becomes pickled tongue with fried mayonnaise (WD-50's most famous dish); corned beef on rye with mustard becomes corned duck on rye crisps with mustard. There is no layering on of truffles or cream or foie gras, nor is there any need. Indeed, the foie gras offering at WD-50, often cited as a disappointment by critics, has very little to do with the foie gras, which is prepared perfectly. Rather, the smooth, cool, buttery liver is competing with the sourness and bitterness of dried grapefruit pulp and the eerie discontinuity of pale liquid caramel infused with dried seaweed. For Dufresne, the luxury of foie gras, like the comfort of a deli sandwich, is simply a frame of reference for experimentation. And the point of experimentation in his kitchen is not simply to please, but to challenge.

When I say WD-50's food is the most challenging in Manhattan, I am not referring to the difficulty of its preparation (though it obviously is the product of the highest culinary skill). WD-50 is a challenging place to dine. There is no comfort food, no velvety cream sauce, no oozing ganache, no porterhouse steak. Flavors are stripped bare and placed in close proximity where they are free to behave as they will. Tender, meaty octopus tangles with almonds and pesto. Rich dark mole is reduced to a transfer-strip of "paper", to be judiciously combined with a juicy roast chicken. Pork belly is served dry and firm, not so much the star of the dish as a meaty accent to the rotating cast of garnishes that are served with it. The sweet cherries of clafoutis are body-snatched by unctuous dark olives, while the eggy cake remains as an echo of the classic dessert. Nothing here is to be expected, everything is a revelation or an amusement. Even dishes that don't quite work are educational. WD-50 is a funhouse for foodies.

For my brother's birthday, there was no better place to be than in this restaurant. What Wylie Dufresne does takes chutzpah. For every curious foodie that revels in the experience he offers, there will be three or four casual diners who are scared away. Fortunately for him, he has the backing of his his father (an experienced restaurateur) and his mentor Jean-Georges. As my brother learns the skills of his chosen trade, for one night he saw the limits to which they could be stretched by someone who isn't afraid to take risks. It was a lesson in courage for a kid who's already shown a lot of it. As for me, I'm happy I could help get him in the door. See, the world will always have its use for those of us who play it safe. We make possible the courage of those we love.