Who knows what causes normally composed, well-adjusted, sane people to become quietly (or in some cases, not so quietly) unhinged in certain dining establishments? Most often, of course, it’s the food. Sometimes it’s the noise level, or the prices, or the presence of a jabbering waiter. Or maybe, as happened the other evening at Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s latest experiment in international cuisine, Matsugen, it’s pretty much everything. “Where’s their design consultant?” whispered my normally composed, well-adjusted, sane wife as we sat sipping our after-dinner tea. “You couldn’t hear yourself think when the place was 66, and you can’t hear yourself think now.” She took another sip of tea. “Cold, gummy soba noodles for dinner? That’s not going to work. And what was that Bunsen burner on our table?” (It was part of the Japanese hot-pot dish shabu-shabu.) “This is supposed to be a dignified restaurant. You can’t charge New Yorkers a hundred bucks ($160, actually) for some cold Kobe beef (Wagyu, actually), and ask them to cook it. I’ll go to Koreatown for that!”
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