Coqodaq — an 8,000-square-foot Korean fried chicken-and-Champagne party in the Flatiron District — is the year’s unchallenged, runaway restaurant hit.
The hot spot’s 150 indoor seats, scattered beneath a Rockwell Group-designed procession of glowing arches, are packed until 11 p.m., when many places are already asleep.
Its signature “Bucket List” meal deal features flavorful poultry served in cardboard “buckets” along with numerous delicious starters, sides and finishers — all for a ridiculously reasonable $38. The chicken is ridiculously moist and tasty, its aggressively battered skin is ridiculously crispy and the portions are ridiculously generous.
But, a truly ridiculous, one-star, 1,250-word New York Times review this week deemed Coqodaq’s food “obvious and pandering.” Lame-duck critic Pete Wells also found the restaurant’s “indulgent” vibe portending “end-times” and the entire city in a “weird, giddy, and-the-band-played-on mood.”
Schedule a therapy session, Pete. That’s a lot to put on a chicken joint that zillions of New Yorkers are loving. Wells — a highly entertaining critic who’s stepping down due to health concerns after a dozen years consuming just about anything the Big Apple’s culinary scene could toss up — clearly has something other than fried fowl on his mind.
His Coqodaq condemnation reflects how out of touch the Times — and much of liberal media — is. Wells even suggested that Coqodaq seems “like the end of civilization,” although I didn’t spot a single pitchfork or unlicensed handgun on any of my four visits.
At a time when the country — and the city — is more divided politically than at any time in recent memory, why the need to politicize a restaurant, especially a somewhat affordable one run by a successful Asian American — restaurateur Simon Kim.
Wells writes that the kitchen “flattens Korean dishes and makes them one-dimensional.”
Such quibbles about authenticity are tired and trite at this point. Restaurant-goers want to bite into succulent drumsticks, not choke on overcooked identity politics. They don’t want to compare the fairly casual Coqodaq to Korean fine dining spots such as Naro and Atomix, where the tasting menus will set you back $165 and $420, respectively.
People go to Coqodaq — if they’re lucky enough to score a table — for a good time, and executive chef Seung Kyu Kim delivers it literally in buckets-full.
Sure, the party-time noise level could raise Jimmy Hoffa. (The sidewalk patio is quieter.) And some waiters tried to rush us by bringing everything at once — it’s the “Korean way,” they said — rather than in an orderly progression.
And, as Wells correctly noted, servers try too hard to make you order Champagne, which is priced from $25 to $45 a glass.
“The bubbles cut through the richness of fried chicken by effectively breaking through the fats on your palate,” the menu explains. Of course, many cocktails, beer and dry wines do the same. But such an upsell is no different than those at any restaurant in the city pushing bottled water, truffles, A5 Wagyu beef or the like.
Wells’ criticism takes some odd, fairly gratuitous swipes at the 42-year-old Kim, a Seoul native who also launched the phenomenally popular Korean steakhouse Cote in the Flatiron. He suggests that Cote was a cynical ploy to sell more red wine than in Korean restaurants on 32nd Street.
But if anyone’s being cynical, it’s Wells for criticizing one of the city’s rising young hospitality stars, who has created successful concepts that incorporate his heritage. Isn’t that what we used to celebrate in New York?
Coqodaq excels where it matters most. The drumsticks, thighs and breasts are delicious both with and without the soy sauce-garlic and gochujang glazes. House signature sauces — jun verde, honey mustard, pepper parm and gochujang BBQ — add compelling complexity, to the meat.
Fresh banchan, such as pickled daikon, laugh at the generic offerings at many bibimbap joints. Chilled perilla-seed noodles served after the chicken are a delightfully refreshing palate cleanser. Fruity soft-serve frozen yogurt closes things out on a suitably festive note.
Ignore the Times and follow the critics whose opinions matter most — the crowds at Cote.
