An Apology to Wylie Dufresne

Categories: Whimsy

new_wylie5.jpg
Great food, Wylie Dufresne. Sorry about the whole "shitter" thing.
Dearest Wylie Dufresne,

You, sir, are The Shit. And by that, I mean the amazing The Shit, not the actual shit The Shit. The food that I watched you create and serve up last week at wd~50 in Manhattan was otherworldly.

If you're half as good at making love as you are at making dinner, I speak for us all when I say that we would love to see your version of the missionary (no doubt it's deconstructed and includes some kind of foam).

As I ate my holy-crap-every-bite-of-this-is-ridiculously-amazeballs dinner at wd50, I thought to myself, "If I ever got the chance to speak to The Mr. Wylie Dufresne, what would I even say?" Maybe I would start by telling you how much I loved that bowl of cauliflower soup with surf clams, ramps and smoked raisins (which looked exactly like this):

soup wd.jpg
Or, I could tell you how I lost my mind over that stupid good, mind-bending "poached" egg and the edible shell with Caesar dressing, pumpernickel and lily bulb (which looked exactly like this):
egg wd.jpg
I could save you some of the drool I drooled over that cocoa packet dessert with the "Rice Krispy treats."
drool wd.jpg

Or maybe I decide to keep it simple and say, "Thanks, Sir Wylie Dufresne, for changing my food life forever on this night."

Instead, I went with this:

(Alice walks downstairs at wd~50 in search of the restrooms. She sees two signs on either side of a doorway that look like this:)

doorway wd.jpg

(Alice walks through the doorway that the signs point her through, but sees only sinks. She assumes that wd~50 does not expect her to piss in a sink and further realizes at this moment that maybe getting the wine pairing with the tasting menu was the wrong move for someone who gets drunk after three glasses of wine. If you're keeping count at home, she's on glass seven at this point. Which is no excuse. I'm just saying.)

(Alice turns to walk out of the sinkroom in hopes of finding the peeroom. Just then, Lord Grand Supreme Wylie Dufresne walks towards her. This is her one moment in life to speak to him. She says,)

Alice: Um...Where's the shitter?

The Chef Wylie Dufresne: (calm like Obi Wan Kenobi, badass like fucking Willy Wonka, pointing to those bathroom signs) Follow the signs. Then, just push the wood.

Alice: (stunned, but with a newfound confidence) OK.

(Alice walks back through the doorway and now sees seams in the wall where she hadn't before. She pushes the wood. The secret door in the wall opens up and the toilet is revealed. As soon as that hidden motherfucking door shuts, she bashes her head against the inside of it repeatedly.)

I'm so sorry, chef Dufresne. I so wish I'd have praised your works rather than ask you where I could put my poops. But, it was almost worth it just to hear you tell me to "push the wood." Thanks for the smartest, most delicious dinner I will ever eat. I'll be back (dining under a fake name next time) as soon as financially possible.

Follow City of Ate on Twitter: @cityofate.
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8 comments
Mary
Mary

"Calm like Obi Wan Kenobi, badass like fucking Willy Wonka," could not describe him better. Well done. Well done. Read the article aloud to my office--tears were shed.

Christina Aydt
Christina Aydt

you are a goddess! best writer at the observer, by far. i stockpile your articles so i can read a bunch all at once. thank you for literally making me laugh out loud.

Eam0061
Eam0061

I doubt this story. Alice doesn't poop.

JonathanG
JonathanG

This was a great review. Informative and fun. Thank you.

Artemisia
Artemisia

Now *I* need the peeroom! Hilarious!

Merritt Martin
Merritt Martin

First of all, I am so jealous that you got to eat the egg. Time was against us when we were in NYC last and we didn't get to eat at wd-50.

Secondly, thank you for helping my day along with close-to-pants-pissing laughter.

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