Since I first uncovered what was really cooking inside Wasabi Point, I racked my brains trying to understand their choice of name; was it an elaborate ruse, or a wayward (or demented) marketing faux pas by the restaurateur equivalent of Terry Gillian? It was none of that; my digressions were beside the point. The word "Wasabi" had not been joined with a proper localization word like "Place", "Joint" or "Abode", but with an ambiguous word that can also be used to ascribe a myriad of meanings. Indeed, the Wasabi-like menu constituents inside of non-Japanese origin WERE the point.
Wasabi Point, then, was a cunningly crafted metaphor meant for you to try one of the rarest, choicest, ethnic meals you will ever experience: Bhutanese food.
Before I unriddled this Pan-Asian prankster, I had bypassed, ignored, and sauntered by in contempt at their seemingly uninspired admixture of name, food and decor, in the otherwise rich and exuberant ethnic food fauna to be found in the environs. The clear open windows and gigantic green lit logo "Wasabi Point" seemed more proper for a Chinese takeout place than for a respectable Japanese establishment. In my mind of minds, I (and not just me) regarded Wasabi Point as a predictable ringer.
But one memorable day, undecided and hungry, we were in one of those I-want-Ramen moods that care not for authenticity, because even ringers can't screw up Ramen. Much.
So imagine our surprise when the totality of the menu was carefully dedicated to Tibetan and Bhutanese food; the Japanese options allotted to a tiny section in the back, meant for unrepentant forbearance. We did just that.
Having had Tibetan before many times, I decided to go with the unknown; Bhutanese cuisine; a string of soups all of which ended with the word "datse". I went with Sha-Datse which was described as a cheese soup with meat, chilies and potatoes. This was to become one of the best soups that I've ever had in my young life. I now fondly refer to it as "The Devil's Casserole"
The cheese is melted in just the perfect way; not too thick, not to thin, laden with the floating potatoes, the meat, and the green chilies in the flesh and in spirit, as much of the flavor was embedded in the soup; a liquefied cheese concoction of such spicy might that it must provide a much needed succor to the Bhutanese inhabitants in the freezing alpine Himalayan parts of the country.
After that first taste and tears (it'll make you cry of spice, I promise) two years ago, I've become an unremitting customer, and I've since come to know the Chef, the staff and the menu; their Tibetan menu being one of the bests in town, and I suggest you order a portion of Ting-momo to take with your Datse; to dip the fresh steamed bun on the cheese soup, then adding the red chili sauce available on the side, for a delightfully infernal palate experience.
I've since tried Sha-Datse in another unnamed Tibetan establishment in Jackson Heights and it doesn't hold a candle to the one to be found at Wasabi Point. If you live in New York and enjoy trying new food experiences, you owe it to yourself to try Bhutanese food at least once in your life.
As far as metaphors go, I once asked the good people at Wasabi what on Earth were they thinking when they decided to name it as they did; surely they hadn't intended to lure Japanese food aficionados into a Tibetan/Bhutanese surprise? Sadly, it was the fact that people are more commonly prone to go with what they know (instead of what they don't) what led them to bank on one of the most ubiquitous of Asian cuisines in the West. They were, though, thinking about changing the name, thanks in no small part to the large contingent of fans that cherish their excellent Tibetan/Bhutanese fare.
Until then, I refuse to believe that we live among throngs of unadventurous simpletons that would rather stay within their conditioned ramparts instead of reaching out to the glorious diversity that titillates in this wonderful world of ours.
I choose to see Wasabi Point as an ingenious metaphor; meant to pique the interest of Wasabi aficionados only to lure them into far greater levels of spicy bliss. An assessment which I've come to make due to my own undeniably dantesque experiences with the spicy datses.
So I leave you with the old and wise literary adage, relearned and reworked for food joints everywhere: "Don't judge a food spot by it's cover" read more