Josephine Lee
Google
I like beef, but I don't naturally gravitate to thick slabs of dead cow, so take this review with a grain of salt (bae)--I don't frequent steakhouses much. That said, I do know that NYC doesn't have a single non-American-style steakhouse, so Gui's decisively Korean version of this cuisine style is a refreshing change. Let me be clear:
This is a Korean steakhouse. Not Korean BBQ. Korean. Steakhouse. It serves all the big slabs of cow people know and love, but with Korean flavors and enhancements.
We started with some apps to whet our apps. The A5 Wagyu Katsu Sando with caviar was delicate, rich and delicious. The Mala Gambas was literally a Szechuan mala version of the classic tapas dish, complete with Szechuan peppercorns--genius and delicious, though the accompanying sourdough toast was too stale. The Hwe Muchim was refreshing and complex, definitely many people's favorite of the bunch. And the bright, beautiful Mandoo were perfectly crispy and juicy, fancy without losing any of their Korean comfort-ness.
For slabs of cow, we got the USDA Prime Rib, which was huge and perfectly seared. The accompanying horseradish sauce, which Gui makes in-house, was one of the best I've had. We also ordered Bearnaise with makgeolli, Chimichurri with wasabi, Bordelaise with black garlic, and Choron sauce with gochujang sauces. When they arrived in their cute little white gravy dishes, I led our group of friends in creating a tasting palette on our plates--which our server said no one else had ever done.
While all the sauces were exceptional (and uniquely Korean) in their own way, the chimichurri with wasabi was easily my favorite. I now require all chimichurris to be made with mustard. I want my sauce to burrrrrn!
We also added other mains: The Thick Cut Galbi was flavorful and moist, and the Olive Jeju Flounder was tender and moist. The Kimchi Wagyu Fried Rice was solid though unremarkable. And the Sunchoke side was perfectly cooked (and also unique), while the Roasted Brussel Sprouts should satisfy steak traditionalists.
For sweet munchies, we got the perfectly flaky and creamy Paris-Jeju, a traditional brest made with jejsu sejak, kumquat and white chocolate. But my favorite was definitely the Baked Alaska, a perfect structure of egg white filled with tangy yuzu mousse, almond, citrus, and pink peppercorn.
Gui's second floor, Times Sq-adjacent location might turn off some people, but I encourage you to brave the aggro Elmos and Ernies to give this place a try. If you love steak and you love Korean food, you'll wonder how you lived this long without combining them Luckily, Gui now exists.