Wu Liang Ye

Justin Hartung

Citysearch

The Scene
If midtown is a culinary desert, Wu Liang Ye would be the hope-inspiring palm tree on the horizon. You wouldn't know it from the look of the place, however: Up a set of stairs, the nearly windowless dining room could moonlight as a bingo parlor, albeit one with chandeliers, a few paintings and a staff wearing deadpan expressions. Fortunately, the chatter of devoted regulars supplements character.

The Food
Much of the city's Szechuan cuisine is not spicy enough, or so greasy that auto mechanics wouldn't touch it, but Wu Liang Ye finds the perfect balance on both counts. Dan dan noodles, tossed with fiery, just-fatty-enough ground pork, do street-cart fare justice, but more upscale cuisine earns its price tag too. Tender razor clams, soaked in a tangy pepper and scallion vinaigrette, form the tail feathers of an ornate radish bird sculpture. Shredded camphor tea-smoked duck and a seabed's worth of crispy scallops need no prettifying.

Hits: Dazzling, unusual dishes that will make you forget all about General Tso and his lot.

Misses: The blah room and unsmiling staff come off even worse when compared with the brightly flavored food.