Everyday at 9:57 AM I begin preparing myself for battle. I cannot see my opponents, but I know they are there, doing the same, sitting by the hundreds in their offices and desks waiting….Waiting for the reservations.momofuku.com clock to strike 10:00:00 AM and to spring their cursor to the preferred number in their party. Then the tearful lag, as the reservation board displays it’s sneaky green check marks, even as you see them, they are like a mirage, nearly a vague and already expired image of what it represents, which has undoubtedly already been taken. It’s painful, but the payoff is getting into Momofuku Ko, simply the hardest restaurant to get into in NYC. So hard that there is no back door celebrity entrance, the only way to get one of the only dozen seats of the house is through this very “fair” online portal. So tough that major publications’ food critics made posts begging for people to help them get in, yet praising it’s blissful end of the rainbow meal once they are finally let in the iron clad gate (seriously). It sounds crazy for all this build up to be able to pay someone almost a hundred dollars a head for a dinner, but I am not one too overlook the path for the destination. The build up is magical and only makes the sweeping hands of the chiefs working right in front of you seem that more skilled and precise. Oh yeah, food is pretty good too. Like the way you soak up every lasting bit of taste with any possible utensil provided, every single plating of the 11 courses. The way that you learn your seating number and get excited as the head conductor calls for your next spot to be on deck. The way you feel like you taste one of your favorite foods like you never imagined before.
Oh, Momofuku Ko, how you delight and torture your faithful so well, I hope it never changes, just let me IN!
Jason Lake, at your service.
