In Midtown, a Maximalist Sibling to Bad Roman Steals the Show
Chef Craig Koketsu has opened all manner of restaurants for the Quality Branded group. He’s done straightforward Italian (Quality), “unhinged” Italian (Bad Roman), steakhouse (Smith & Wollensky, Quality Meats), Eastern Mediterranean (Zou Zou’s), and straight-up modern American (Quality Bistro).
Like its maximalist sibling Bad Roman down the hall in the Shops at Columbus Circle (formerly the Time Warner Center), Twin Tails is an unapologetically big and bold mall restaurant, both in terms of flavor and sheer size. The 300-seat location boasts a massive menu with three-tiered trays of roast duck; a private dining room with a six-foot tall Mirabelle panther made from disco ball tiles; and a speakeasy in the shape of a genie’s bottle tucked in the entry hall. Big brass doors create a Narnia-like entrance, an escape from the fluorescent-lit hallways of the mall.
The vibe: Around 6:30 or 7 p.m., the space feels like a fancy supper club, with smoked mirror-paneled walls, a breezy rattan ceiling, glossy rosewood tables, dining chairs wrapped in green leather, and deep velvet banquettes in crushed gold. Amber glass chandeliers lend the restaurant a bewitched vibe.
The food: For the menu, Koketsu focuses on a fusion of flavors from Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos — dishes that emphasize acidity and spice, freshness and fragrance of the region. The menu is vast, with sections devoted to raw, satays, rolls, fish, steak, pork, and fowl, so go with a crowd. That said, the prices here are as oversized as the menu and match the high-end address; you’re probably looking at $400 for two with dishes priced from $22 for an appetizer-sized hamachi to $48 for the steamed sea bass and $175 for a beef shank. Twin Tails is pricey, particularly when the city has ample Southeast Asian restaurants that cost less. But Twin Tails isn’t reaching for traditional recipes. And as such, it just may be worth the splurge for a unique experience along with gussied-up food that’s often dazzling.
Salads like the tart and textured Emerald Goddess are an interplay of sweet and sour. A mix of jicama, honeydew, cucumber, apple, tarot root, chrysanthemum, and watercress dressed in tamarind sits on an avocado puree punched up with cilantro, Thai basil, and chiles. It is everything, everywhere, all at once. The hamachi are also spot-on, though the fluke with watermelon radish is the standout. Among rolls, try the Netted Chicken ones that are wrapped in a tempura crepe lattice, lending a little crunch.
As for larger plates, the garlic shrimp is a star, an ode to a dish made famous by Lotus of Siam off the strip in Vegas. The shrimp are plump and crispy, flash-fried and flavorful — so good you’ll be plucking them off the plate and eating them with your hands. The cured pork shank is bathed in chile vinegar and soy, and deep fried so has a crust, but the meat falls off in big pieces with a nudge of the chopsticks, dropping into the aromatic turmeric and garlic rice.
The Cho Lon Duck is another showstopper: It takes nearly three days to get the whole duck ready, like they’re going to the Emmys or something, with all the air-drying and roasting. The end result is tiers of thinly-sliced duck breast, crispy-skinned legs and thighs, some atypical sauces (Mekong salsa verde, hoisin, and red curry) and add-ins like cucumber, pineapple, scallions, and cilantro.
Desserts by pastry chef Lucy Blanche deserve their own column; the woman is doing four different souffles a night, which you’re encouraged to lock in and order before the dessert course. The red curry one may sound unconventional, but it’s kind of like Weird Barbie: It’s the best. And I ate an entire slice of her rainbow sherbet cake — guava, makrut lime, and pineapple sherbet layered Carvel-style with chile-cashew-graham-cracker crunchies — after protesting several times that I could not eat another thing.
Tips: Bryan Schneider’s salted lychee martini is worth a trip in itself. Served in a fluted coup, it takes a cue from a margarita, tart and sweet and a little salty. Don’t sleep on the passion-fruit hot sauce, which I hope eventually gets sold or sent home with diners as a gift for coming in for dinner. If reservations are booked, head to that genie-in-the-bottle speakeasy tucked in the entry hall, where walk-ins are welcome and the full menu is served.
