Even before asking one's name, everyone introduced themselves at TheWhisk & Ladle with one question: "So, how'd you get in?"
Since its official opening in September 2007, The Whisk & Ladle supperclub in Brooklyn has been shrouded by the mystery of exclusivity. The five-course dinners are strictly by invitation only, which can be requested through their website. Many of the people who attended dinner in late February had been on a waiting list for six to nine months. Some had sent multiple requests, and were in awe that their requests had been answered, nevermind actually to have been accepted.
For $50, a trio of by amateur foodies prepares a five-course meal for about 26 guests in their superbly decorated Williamsburg loft. Specialty cocktails and wine include Whisk & Ladle has no liquor license, nor has it been approved by the New York Department of Health. None of the cooks have been professionally trained, and the supperclub doesn't have a Zagat rating. But getting a reservation at the Whisk & Ladle may actually be more challenging than getting a reservation at Babbo, Del Posto, maybe even French Laundry. Whisk & Ladle's publicity is simply by word-of-mouth and the occasional, adulatory review on Gawker or Thrillist that certainly helps to increase the hype (and effectively water down the crowd).
Whisk & Ladle started back in 2002 as a series of dinner parties thrown by the original W&L cook in her Inwood apartment. When she made the decision to attend law school over culinary school, her regular soirées became necessary to reinforce her raison d'être. Then in 2006 after relocating to Williamsburg and taking on three roommates, the lawyer-chef developed the Whisk & Ladle as a pseudo-business, run exclusively on minimal profit just for the hell of it.
The original cook was in absentia for the dinner I attended. Instead, all five courses were conceived and prepared instead by one of her culinary partners, a charming and friendly educational entrepreneur who was as excited to be a member of New York's revolutionary food underworld as he was humbled by his lack of formal culinary training. With a kitchen staff of about eight, plus additional servers, he executed a dinner for 26 people with a hardworking precision and a contagious enthusiasm that kept his service from seeming at all routine.
The ostensibly pirate-themed insignia of the Whisk & Ladle, a skull and crossbones trapped inside the wire loops of a whisk, is a far cry from the decorations of the dining room apartment itself. The multi-level, high-ceilinged industrial loft is ornamented by a slathering of vintage goodies, from a grandfather clock to a banner of the worlds great Communist leaders (which happens also to be the banner for the quartet's badminton team, The East River Badminton Club). The atmosphere is welcoming, but tense. W&L's owners and groupies are keen to strike up conversation and invite you with grace into their home. Among the supperclub's eager, Gawker-reading guests however, there is the tension of feigned pretension, coupled with awestruck gratitude to be dining inside the club's cinderblock walls.
The evening opened with signature cocktails at the bar. Located within the open kitchen area, the bar gives a view into the bustle of last-minute preparations and plating, where as many as six cooks and prep cooks work all at one time all in the same, tiny space. The cocktails at the bar are nothing but pure genius; names such as "The Freshman Girl" and "Fleurs du Mal" hearken back to the good old days at University. The "Fleurs du Mal" was my potion of choice, the most conservative and elegant mixture on the menu made of vodka, Framboise, and Champagne with just a touch of lemon. The bartender, an affable Hamptons summer journalist by profession, creates all of the drinks himself, using an array of ingredients from cantelope to red onion.
Dinner began with a trio of soup shots, all playing on the cook's interest in making the perfect stock. The first, Tomato Soup with Apples, used an onion stock base. Its murky, caramel color suggested cream, but the soup was actually quite brothy and warm. The next was a Duck Soup with Cream-Poached Garlic, garnished with bits of scallion. For some, this was the favorite, but I found it to be far too salty (and would have been far better utilized in the main course, more later). The last soup was a Mint Lamb Broth. Simple and rich, it was quite a good stock to use in dishes, but would not have been interesting enough if it had been served as a full serving of soup.With a loud clapping of his hands, the cook and host announced dinner and invited us all to sit around three tables with mismatched vintage chairs, flatware, and generous pours of Alsace wine. The appetizer course was an exploration into onion done three ways: Poached Cipollino with Chèvre Brulée; Leek purée with whipped potatoes; Scallion-parsley salad atop an Asiago crisp. The cipollino was a novel idea, but could have been poached a bit longer (and perhaps in a more flavorful broth) to make it less pungent and strong. The chèvre brulée was creamy and incredibly fresh. The leek purée was absolutely delicious with a perfect, sinewey texture that was complimented by the smooth whipped potatoes. The scallion-parsley salad resembled a fattoush, and was surprisingly full of flavor for herbs to be found in winter. The salty and oily asiago crisp was a nice contrast to the freshness of the bitter herbs.
The highly anticipated main course came after a long wait: Turkey breast with Chicken Liver, Duck, and Brussel Sprout stuffing with Macadamia Nut Crust. This was served next to Nutmeg Polenta, with a side of bite-sized bits of perfectly poached asparagus and a strawberry relish. In later conversation with the cook, I learned that the inspiration for the main course was simply "why not". Since the head cook was out for the night, our cook decided on turkey because it was the one protein that W&L had never done before. The addition of the other fowl as a stuffing was his take on Turducken.
The result was quite good, but just missed excellence; the stuffing on its own was very tasty, but it lacked enough salt and fat to hold its own or even complement the thick and tough meat of the turkey breast. The macadamia crust was a great complement for texture, but would have benefitted from a quick toast in the broiler to bring out the flavor of the nuts and add some color to the white meat. I absolutely love polenta, and I was charmed by the creamy corn sidedish with the unique and distinct taste of nutmeg. Nutmeg, because it is so pungent, is a challenging spice to use, but the cook put in just the right amount to make this unusual spice twist really work. I really appreciated the asparagus, both for color and for the freshness of the vegetable. Though the colors on the plate were rather bland without the red strawberry, a midwinter meal can be served with varying neutrals, offset by the deep green of the asparagus.
My two major qualms with the main course was the turkey's lack of moisture and the addition of the strawberry relish. The cook told me that his signature touch is always to have a contrasting fruit on the dish to add another dimension of flavor. I think this idea is excellent, but I would have done it a bit differently. To begin, I would have taken the duck soup from the starters and reduced it to a semi-thick gravy, serving it as the piping hot base layer on the plate. I would have then added the creamy polenta in a mound atop the gravy, also served piping hot to keep it from losing heat en route to the table. The turkey would have then been served, as it was, in tasting-menu portion slices atop the polenta to reveal the inner stuffing. A slight drizzle of gravy to wet the dry turkey and finish the plate, and then served a complementary, seasonal pear chutney -- the spicing of which I leave to the imagination and craft of W&L's cook for future meals. The main course was a good concept and a good start, but there is room to improve this dish for future meals.
Dessert was served with black and green Darjeeling teas that were smuggled in from a W&L comrade's recent trip to India. The teas were delicate and exquisite, perfect for the sweet course. Dessert was a tasting trio: a Raw Chocolate truffle, homemade by the one of W&L's neighbors; Almond Cake with Pomegranate-Apricot glaze; and Gorgonzola Crema. The chocolate was so good that it was, without a doubt, worth breaking my Lenten abstinence from chocolate. It was dark, rich, bitter, and full of satisfying, sensual flavor. The almond cake was moist and textured, and the glaze was so fresh -- a perfect complement to the nutty richness of the cake. The gorgonzola crema, however, seriously confused me. It was way too pungent and strong for a dessert cheese, and distracted from the flavors of the cake, fruit, and chocolate. On its own, the crema would have made a great starter. But as a dessert cheese, it was too much an affront to the senses, and would have been better replaced by a more delicate version of bleu cheese, or a rich, fresh boucheon de chèvre.
Overall, the dinner was more like a tasting menu than a full, five-course meal. As a dinner among friends it was exceptional, but just fell short of the quality that comes with training to prepare a meal for a rated New York restaurant. However, I congratulate the Whisk & Ladle for their ingenuity and creativity, and the cook for his boldness in taking risks with ingredients when cooking on such a large scale. Despite all of the hubbub and Gawker-worship, the Whisk & Ladle has remained humble and excited about serving up interesting and unique meals. Even though reservations are scarce and the diners do tend to be a little overzealous, the supperclub really is just a really marvelous dinner party, thrown by a bunch of enthusiatic cooks who love what they do.
