When fusion cuisine attacks!

Like any powerful concept, fusion cuisine can be used for good or for evil.

Let me explain: Some ingredients have a natural affinity. Tomatoes and basil. Mint and lamb. Peanut butter and jelly. They're classic combinations for a reason.

Beef and ginger make happy playmates. So do beef and horseradish. Combining pickled ginger, roast beef and wasabi with romaine in a sandwich is a nice way to bring new interest to all parties involved.

Evil fusion cuisine involves a soul-removal. Take, for example, the chicken samosa at Vongerichten's meatpacking district streetfair, Spice Market. It's essentially chopped chicken bits packed into triangular eggroll wrappers. Dry, lackluster chicken in a crisp-fried shell does not a samosa make. There's no way the standard spicy Indian sauce condiments (which were underseasoned, but let's not go there) can cover for poorly executed food and bad recipe design.

The real beauty of a samosa is in the joy of a spicy stuffing punctuated with tiny flavor treasures all wrapped up in a tender, toasted shell. To remove both the luscious piñata-like filling and the tasty pastry shell and continue to call the thing a samosa is just plain wicked.

That said, I enjoyed the spicy tapioca ceviche, and he gets the toasty, malty Ovaltine kulfi right. I'm not asking for much here. Vongerichten is a talented chef. He seems like a nice guy. Just exercise a little respect for the original dish before you go winging out into a fusion orbit, people.