Luthun

Walking into Luthun, I thought this reservation was a mistake. It had the bustle and chaos of a dirty, local diner at the height of weekend brunch. Noise. Energy. People everywhere. Dishes flying. A tiny kitchen stuffed with chefs. Harried staff.

This can't be right...

 We arrived right on time and were sat at the bar for its 2nd seating. Our first 20 minutes were watching the kitchen staff prepare meals for the tight tables behind us at lightning speed. Plates laid out, fridges slamming to get some of the elements. Chefs on top of each other, literally reaching over each other's shoulders as they tag teamed the 12 dishes laid out before them. The head chef eyeing each one, asking them to fix that one or adjust this one. Then, randomly..."Hands!!"

They were gone. The counter was aggressively wiped clean and the next round of plates arrived, which started the entire process again.

"Madhouse.", I thought. "This place is a madhouse."

20 minutes went by before we were addressed. They were clearly behind. 

Greeted by their sommelier, who leaned over and chatted with an informality that was jarring, almost shouting over the noise from the other diners and the clang of energy behind him in the kitchen. He wore jeans, sneakers and a white t-shirt. Quite an odd outfit for a sommelier. The general manager? He was in a formal suit. The guy introducing the dishes? Khakis and a polo. 

What the hell is going on here?? Where am I??

As the somm engaged us, I noticed the glint in his eye. It had that "I know something you don't know..." look. A quiet confidence. He knew what our experience to come would be. And had that little fire back there that quietly whispered "Just you wait..."

Their wine list is eclectic - countries and regions that are not typical. So I needed his help and he ably guided me towards a fantastic wine from Hungary set near a volcano. "Stainless steel, so crisp. But plenty of ash. Like if you've had wines from Sicily."

The wine was killer. Somm's got game.

As we sat watching the non-stop madness of the kitchen, I slowly began noticing things of beauty amidst the chaos. Clear labels on every prep container. Quick and direct communication between team members. Positive training to a new but clearly talented young chef. (I later learned that it was her very first day here. More on her later.) Chef/owner Nahid Ahmed's watchful and detailed eye. He clearly cared deeply about each plate that was sent out.

I was no longer dubious. Curious. But still doubtful. 

Our first dish arrived - a play on Pushka, Indian street food. Served atop a beautiful pumpkin. The plating was gorgeous. The flavor was incredible. The heat punched you in the face as if to say "Wake up!!! We are bringing it tonight."

"This place is magic", I thought. It's a tornado, but a brilliant tornado, spewing out refined, intelligent, uber-delicious dishes from its organized chaos. 

Whatever this madhouse was delivering, I wanted to try it all.

Chef Ahmen is half Indian, half Persian. He has worked at The Fat Duck, el Bulli and The French Laundry. This guy RUNS his kitchen. Doesn't miss a thing. And delivers innovative plates that are stupefyingly delicious. 

The restaurant is named for his mother, who passed away when he was 7 years old. There is a large photo of them as you enter. (The chef permitted me to share that photo here, but I forgot to snap one of it as I left.) It's a tremendous story and begins to fill in the gaps and provide meaning to what this place is. Or, rather, WHO this place is.

Dish after dish delivered at such a high level. We just kept shaking our heads. How are they doing this?? The madness of the pass never stopped. No lull. The staff never quit. Hours and hours of plates, elbows, product, loading, "Hands!" and on to the next.

A perfectly cooked red snapper in an aguachile that was so insanely spicy, but flavorful and bright and addicting. An incredible octopus with bone marrow emulsion and milk bread. A beautiful and generous piece of beef accompanied by a jus which screamed of chocolate and heat. It reminded me of Plu's which was so good, I essentially proposed to the chef.

One of the few things I noticed that was "off" was the variance of the beef, plate to plate. They used the entire piece, so some plates had end pieces, others had pieces with sinue, others were clean center-cut pieces. I can imagine this is a cost-saving measure, but it raises an eyebrow for food of this quality.

The star of the night was their signature dish - shrimp, sweetbread, nuk chun (vietnamese fish sauce) with brown butter and a MESS of herbs. That is one of the best plates of food I have ever been served. It will never leave the menu, and for good reason. That dish alone is worth the entire price of admission, which, at $150, is offensively low for the quantity and quality you receive.

I need to point out a few other things that stood out. (There were so many.) The proteins were each cooked to perfection. Every single one of them was mind-blowingly spot-on in. That is just so difficult to do.

Also, there is no heirarchy here. Everyone did everything. The somm washed dishes. A chef would jump from the pass to sweeping the floor to clearing plates. Even Chef Ahmed got his hands dirty with whatever needed attention. It wasn't beneath him. At the end of the evening, it was him aggressively washing down the stove for the next day. "People don't see everything he really does", the somm told us at the end of the night. "He arrives at the market early, chocolates in hand, to make sure he gets the choicest produce from each purveyor. Nobody does that."

Michelin is ignoring this place. (Another thing they share with Plu.) They're not even in the guide. Perhaps the frenetic energy an unrefined physical space doesn't "fit", in their view. If so, their view is wrong. This is one of the very best restaurants in New York City.

Read that again.

This is one of the very best restaurants in New York City.

When the meal ended, Chef Ahmed came to thank me for coming. As I effused with how excellent the meal had been, he said with his accent "That means a lot coming from you. I have read you. You know what you are saying."

He pulled up a chair and we were given the glorious opportunity to stay long after everyone left, talking about his business, the industry, Michelin and so much more. They kept our glasses filled with wines and champagne. The brought us "into the fold" and I couldn't be more grateful for such a candid, intimate and generous discussion.

At one point, he pulls his phone out and scrolled through hundreds and hundreds of recipes he had written. "There are so many more dishes I have not yet made."

I hope he gets to. Apparently, business is not what it could be. Or, let's be honest, should be. Michelin has that level of impact in a city. And the oversight of this place is a travesty. Plu closed because of it. Luthun has a dedicated financial backer, who was also there that evening as we all chatted. I am urgently hopeful that they break through and receive the recognition and success they deserve. 

As we finally left that evening, the grill chef and the brand new chef were sitting outside. We chatted with them a bit too. I commended the grill chef for the brilliance he produced, plate after plate. The brand new chef has huge credentials and a killer skillset. I had to know. "With your resume, you could work anywhere in the city. Why did you choose to work here?"

She stepped in close and looked me square in the eye. Her finger wasn't in my chest, but it may as well have been. "I have worked in too many kitchens that lack leadership. They don't train. They don't offer respect. They don't lift and elevate their staff." Pointing into the restaurant at Chef Ahmed, she said "This guy does. And at this point in my career, that is what is most important to me."

Moving. Impressive. Profound.

There are very few restaurants in New York that I return to. There are simply too many other places to get to. Luthun will be a return visit each and every time I am in the city.

I have rarely enjoyed an experience more than this.