THENEWYORKER,AUGUST 5 &12, 2019 13
PHOTOGRAPH BY ZACHARY ZAVISLAK FOR THE NEW YORKER; ILLUSTRATION BY JOOST SWARTE
1
TABLESFORTWO
Wa y l a
100 Forsyth St.
In the cramped grid of Manhattan, any
bit of outdoor space, especially in the
warmer months, holds a special place
in the hearts of air-starved city dwellers.
For these deprived people, any sort of
“garden” will do, even if it’s lined in ce-
ment, painted black, and deep in a val-
ley of tenement buildings. Throw in
some twinkle lights and it’s a vacation.
Wayla, a new Thai restaurant tucked
into a basement on the Lower East
Side, has one of the neighborhood’s
lovelier gardens, with large palm plants
and candles, and, even better, it’s prac-
tically secret—hidden past the bar,
through a narrow room of tables, all the
way in the back.
Wayla also has another thing that
New Yorkers love very much: a run-
away-hit dish, involving both noodles
and meatballs. Why the Moo Sarong
isn’t already on every Thai menu in the
city may have something to do with
the fact that each meatball takes, ac-
cording to a waitress on a recent visit,
five minutes to assemble: a garlicky
dollop of pork is wrapped, by hand,
in a single long wheat noodle, then
fried, to resemble a crispy little ball of
string with a juicy center. The sweet
chili dipping sauce on the side helps a
serving of six meatballs, which theoret-
ically took more than thirty minutes to
prepare, disappear in one minute flat.
Wayla opened in late April; reserva-
tions are scarce (a tip: skip the online sys-
tem and call a couple of days ahead), and
the wait for that precious garden, which
is first come, first served, can stretch be-
yond two hours. But the hospitality level
is high, and the welcoming seafoam-tiled
bar a fine, if cramped, place to wait while
sipping a Land of Smiles cocktail, a sort
of Thai-chili-tamarind margarita.
On a recent night, at a table in a
dimly lit anteroom decorated like a
sexy dungeon, a waitress delivered
confident recommendations for order-
ing—don’t double up on proteins; share
everything—and warnings about the
shrimp, or Kua Kling Kung. The dish
is super spicy, but you don’t notice at
first—then the heat builds, and suddenly
your mouth is on fire. It was an offer that
could not be refused.
Another must-order item, according
to the waitress, was the Nam Prik, an
elaborate tray of butter lettuce, baby
carrots and cucumbers, okra, Thai apple
eggplant, and chicharrones, served with
three condiments: ground pork with
tomato (like a zippy Italian ragù), spicy
mushrooms (fruity and just a little hot,
actually), and chopped shrimp with
coconut milk and a touch of fish sauce
(creamy and comforting)—an alto-
gether au-courant combo of wellness
and indulgence.
But the pièces de résistance were
the proteins. Gai Tod Hat Yai, a juicy
half chicken on the bone, was fried,
sliced, and served with a small bowl of
mint-garlic vinaigrette, referred to by the
server as “crack sauce.” For Larb Pla Tod,
the flesh was cut from a whole bran-
zino, cubed, fried, tossed with mint, lime,
and chilies, piled back onto the fish’s
body, and showered with rice powder.
Sen Chan Pad Lobster was essentially
a sweet-sour pad Thai studded with
chunks of tender lobster, like little gifts.
And the heat on those shrimp in the
Kua Kling Kung really did take a long
time to build; once it did, the Thai iced
tea with oat milk and bourbon was as
essential as it was potent.
Wayla’s chef, Tom Naumsuwan,
who grew up in Bangkok, co-owns the
restaurant with Erika Chou, the owner
of Northern Tiger, a fast-casual Chinese
counter in Brookfield Place. The food
at Wayla doesn’t feel quite as highbrow
or precise as that of its relative neighbor
Uncle Boons, in Nolita, where sweet-
breads and bone marrow make regular
appearances, or as austere as some of
the stalwarts in Queens, where there are
bones in the fish and chili heat leads the
way. But who in New York would pass up
a meal of addictive plum-sauced chicken
wings, fried rice laced with fresh lump
crab, seared strip steak sizzling on a cast-
iron pan, and jackfruit-coconut ice cream,
all under the stars? (Dishes $8-$36.)
—Shauna Lyon
