I hate to say that the reason I'd go back to Jung Sik, the white-washed Zen temple of haute Korean cuisine that's replaced Chanterelle in Tribeca, is a chicken nugget. But it's true. One in a series of delicate and delicious amuse bouche--a smooth and seductive foie gras mouse glossed with dark raspberry gelee is another that won me over--the crispy chicken popper is a keeper. The plump nugget--think bite-sized Bon Chon chicken--is served with a peppery slick of spiced aioli, and it is fantastic. But it's just such a tease. You're only get the one, and it arrives teetering on its own delicate porcelain pedestal (which, quite frankly, this chicken nugget deserves). But please serve me more! You can toss them in a bucket and a hand me a bib for all I care.

Perhaps a chef of Jung Sik Yim's stature does not want to be known for fried chicken. I can understand that. After all, he's got two hit restaurants in Seoul, and has cooked not only at Bouley, Aquavit, and Zuberoa and Akelare in Spain, but also in the South Korean Army, where his commandant liked his cooking so much he promoted him to be his personal chef. But hey, his fried chicken is killer. He should be proud.

But fried chicken is not the focus of Jung Sik. This chef's food is miles from such pedestrian cravings. It's planted firmly in the arena of the cerebral. The chef, at times, seems to be part Ferran Adria, part René Redzepi, taking his native cuisine and passing it through a looking glass of precision, creativity, whimsy, beauty, and culinary artistry. It's a process that is sometimes wildly successful, and others seriously confusing.

Some of my favorite dishes on a menu that includes salads, rice and noodles, meat, and fish (you chose three ($80) or five courses ($115)), were in the "rice and noodle" category. Take the Sea Urchin, for instance. A lump of creamy briny pink urchin rests on top of salty crispy seaweed rice tossed with nutty toasted quinoa. It hits the salty notes, the nutty ones, and plays with texture too. It's the best of both worlds, like a hot day in summer tamed by a cool evening breeze. This dish is a reason to eat urchin daily, twice even. Garlicky clams swim in a spicy green jalapeno broth, thick with slippery rice noodles. It's a thrilling orgy of Italian, Korean, and Latin flavors. It's just a brilliant marriage of cultures.

From the fish category, I loved the silken black cod fish, dressed up in a ravishing red pepper soy glaze. It makes the need for black cod with miso vanish. From the meat category, go with the classic galbi--a rich and hearty stew of braised short ribs, tossed with kim chi, and adorned with rice cakes the shape of Pirate's Booty. 

The chef also produces a beautiful selection of homemade breads, including an Earl Grey-raisin roll, a sourdough rye, and a black olive ciabatta knot. The bread is served with alongside a puck of soft butter and a mound of lovely salt the size and shape of rock salt used to melt ice in winter. I had myself a delicious little bread party.

Unfortunately, not all of the chef's hard work pays off. Nearly all of the salads were beautiful, but not exactly enjoyable. The "Four Seasons" salad includes batons of zucchini, a quail egg, and parsley coming together in a kind of a diorama from your time in the fourth grade. It's really an art project and I did not find it as edible as much as it was curious to admire from afar.

The "Spoonable," a yogurt, beet and carrot composition, is served on a wild white ceramic platter that looks as though it was cast by Gaudi himself. It too is more pleasing to take in with your eyes than your mouth. The yogurt foam is used as a pillow for crudité of all kinds and though it is refreshing and tasty, it seems as though it's more of a culinary starting point than a completed thought.

The "Bibim," also had me scratching my head. The waiter indicated that it was a signature dish, a caprese salad of sorts served bibimbap style. The chef offers a bowl (which we all commented resembled a potty) filled with two piles of what looks like confetti - one tomato and one mozzarella--crowned with a scoop of frozen arugula sorbet. Your job is to mix it all together and enjoy the sunny flavors of a carpaccio. Well, this just does not work. The icy arugula was too cold, freezing the flavors of the tomato and cheese. On a cold, dark night, this salad just seemed off the wall. Also, skip the "five senses" pork which did nothing for any of my senses.

As for dessert, let me say with utter confidence that burdock root does not belong in a pound cake. Sadly, the dessert list does not include one pleasing dish. So forget it altogether.

Instead, drink! While the food is hit or miss, the cocktails are truly outstanding. There is a small quiet bar in the ante room to enjoy a relaxing drink before dinner, or you chose to take to your table, and fall into sumptuously soft seating while perusing the menu. Either way, do have a real drink. Fans of brown spirits must partake of the Melange-Bulleit Bourbon, Mei Shel (Korean Green Plum), and bitters. If you're usually a pink drink kind of gal (or guy), try the Rose of Sharon, an ode to the Korean national flower, which combines Soju, grenadine, and Mockulli (an unfiltered Korean rice wine). It's sweet and tart, balanced and beautiful (just like you, n'est pas?). Their riffs on the whiskey sour and the martini (with salty seaweed water) are also exceptional.

Service is also fantastic, if a bit odd. We had a couple of terrific waiters, captained by an enthusiastic front waiter from Korea. His back waiter was a handsome young gentleman, tall and thin, with brown hair parted neatly to the side and one hand always tucked behind his back. He spoke as though in-character in an HBO period piece, referring to the ladies as "madam" and I believe the gents as "my lord." Seriously, he may have been a butler to a king in another life not quite forgotten.

Example: He served me the incorrect dish at one point during the meal, giving me Craig's salad, not mine. When I got up later in the meal to use the lady's room, he escorted me and beseeched me as such: "Madam, I sincerely hope that my earlier blunder has not interrupted the pleasure of your evening." No joke.  I assured him that my pleasure had not been interrupted. As we were readying to leave, I asked him where he was working prior to Jung Sik, which opened in September. "This is my first position as a waiter, madam," he replied, earnestly, and with a slight British accent (note that this kid most probably lives in Bushwick and has never crossed the Atlantic). "Prior to this, I peddled novelties, which I found to be terribly boring and quite demoralizing. I prefer this." What a character. Casting agents, head to Jung Sik post haste.  He'd be perfect in Sleep No More.

As for the restaurant, like our waiter, it has its charms. I'd say check it out if only to experience the way this chef is approaching a cuisine that really has never been treated to such artistry before. It may not always work, but what does? And there is enough excitement here to warrant an excursion, a couple of drinks, and some fried chicken.

Jung Sik is located at 2 Harrison St., at Hudson St.; 212-219-0900.

Andrea Strong