Grayz

When I think of the 1950s, I imagine a time of McCarthyism, Eisenhower and TV dinners. Gray Kunz thinks of it as a decade of “glamour and gaiety”—the design inspiration for his latest venture, Grayz. Then again, what do I know? I think of a restaurant as a place that serves meals; the formidable Kunz, celebrated for a star-making run at Lespinasse and his current Café Gray, has structured Grayz as a full-blown brand extension, where it’s easy to have a snack or a deal-closing feast for 100, but precious little in between.

Grayz inhabits the lower levels of a landmarked townhouse that was home to the Rockefeller family and the original iteration of Aquavit. The sub–street-level entrance behind a set of stairs makes it feel like a speakeasy, and the main floor’s fireplaces, leather, golden lighting and polished wood surfaces all connote a private club. The basement level is a corporate party planner’s dream, with two large private dining rooms and a dine-in wine cellar.

The good news: After a decade of either waiting for a new Kunz restaurant or never getting a table when one’s open, Grayz is remarkably accessible, with late hours and easy walk-in availability (for those willing to shell out the cash—we dropped a startling $100 per person). For those of us not entertaining people by the dozen, the edible offerings are absurdly brief: 12 items, not including dessert—nine of which are small plates (Grayz is a play on words—graze) and several that I recognized, in some form, from onetime selections at Café Gray (Grayz executive chef Martin Brock was also Kunz’s No. 2 there).

Brevity translates into focus: There are some very intense flavors to experience. Pasta fiori, a hit at Café Gray, appears here and still dazzles. Two slices of pasta sandwich a mélange of diced seedless, skinless tomatoes that prove impossibly tart and fantastically sweet, the sourness further elevated by a lemon-thyme broth. It’s the epitome of spring…in November. Kunz channels fall less memorably, with a seared foie gras mille-feuille in a rich port-mushroom sauce with a hint of truffle, evoking beef bourguignonne.

Three entrée-size dishes are available, including a grilled snapper, complete with a crisscrossed char worthy of a food stylist, and outstanding braised short ribs. The decent snapper is almost too subtle, with a faintly gingery broth accented by a small pickled onion, thinly sliced red peppers and a few soybeans. No such problem with the short ribs, which nailed texture (downy), presentation (bone-in) and saucing (a radiant tomato-spinach combination with the consistency of bisque).

Desserts signal the return to the Munchkinland, including a tiny hazelnut soufflé (philosophical question: Why bother with a soufflé that’s the circumference of a shot glass?) and the more satisfying—though ridiculously priced at $16—rum raisin and hazelnut ice-cream bonbons served over enough dry ice to fog the stage at a heavy-metal concert.

Bottom line: I want more. Even the oversweet cocktail list is too short, with just seven options. But that’s surely the idea here: Tease a bit upstairs, and then fill the private dining areas below. It’s the kind of business plan that afforded the Rockefellers this townhouse in the first place.