June 17 (Bloomberg) -- There’s a theory that goes like this: Comfort food thrives during recessions. Diners want affordable, simple and reliable food as an escape from the uncertainty of the economy. Or put more simply, pizza and burgers seem more enticing than candied olives these days.

So do New Yorkers really want Aldea, a high-end, sort of avant-garde Iberian restaurant with garlic foams, chocolate gels, sardine Napoleons and candied olives?

I called for a same-day reservation on Thursday. Fully booked.

It must be the soup. That’s comfort food, right? Wrong. Sweet peas and morels float in a vegetable consomme. Slices of chorizo add a smoky, lingering aftertaste. Dark orbs are suspended in the broth. They’re called ravioli. Except there’s no noodle. Pop one in your mouth and the sphere bursts into a mushroomy liquid.

It’s achieved via an alginate bath, which is essentially a complicated cooking technique that lets you make ravioli without ravioli.

Aldea is a little bit like Paul Liebrandt’s Corton, another ambitious venue that advertises the food, not the science, which is fair enough because it’s food you taste, not the science. In fact, a Corton sous-chef was dining at the bar while we were awaiting our table as walk-ins.

And we waited well over 60 minutes for that table.

Fancy, Foamy

The revised theory should be this: Excellent, affordable food is recession-proof -- even if it’s fancy and foamy. Only two dishes hit $27. One of them is a must: tender baby goat (braised, confited and grilled) flanked by heady chanterelles and fluffy barley. A stellar trio of earthiness and meatiness.

When I told a female coworker I ate at Aldea, she replied with a single word: “Hotness!” The bartender looks like Benjamin Bratt. Chef George Mendes has a gorgeous jaw line. His pedigree’s impressive too: stints at Bouley and Tocqueville.

The room is a rectangle with white walls, white seats and a sparkling white open kitchen. Ask for a spot at the chef’s counter. Yes, there’s clanging, banging, steaming and sizzling, but the cooks are virtually silent and refrain from vulgarities (something to strive for, Momofuku Ko).

Ask them questions. What’s that pale, vegetal oval on my plate? Young green almonds, said a Chilean chef. They add a hint of crunch to the boneless sardines. Almond milk evokes a breakfast pastry. So do Madeira raisins. Crispy wafers sandwich the fish. The result? A sardine Napoleon. Brilliant.

Cerebral, Complex

Pig ears can be as chewy as a dog bone. Here they’re just barely toothsome and fried, flanked by a spicy cumin yogurt. The sea urchin, a slimy briny creature that’s improbably in vogue these days, is tamed via mustard oil and cauliflower cream.

This is cerebral, complex (but not complicated) fare with layered flavors. Peas and bacon isn’t just peas and bacon. There are also spring truffles (not too strong), a poached egg (for richness) and a green garlic foam (just because). Cuttlefish gets a hint of lime, a whiff of coconut, a sweet tomato confit and a shock of bitterness from parsley. No ingredient is wasted.

Want surf and turf? Spicy sausage gives some extra heft to monkfish. How about just turf to the power of three? Deeply marbled, brisket-like hanger steak is paired with oxtail terrine and bone marrow marmalade. A fried egg sits on top.

Don’t skip dessert. Doughnuts are as eggy as gougeres. Dip them in a tart, not-too-sweet apricot sauce. Wash it all down with a cream soda -- and feel your mouth explode. The drink is spiked with habaneros. No chocolate cake here. Instead, you get chocolate gel, chocolate sorbet and white chocolate foam. What’s that dark, salty, sweet stuff? Candied olives.

They’re addictive.

Rating : ***

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Everything’s $27 and under.

Sound level? Moderate.

Date place? Make sure you sit away far away from the chef because he’s better looking than you are.

Inside tip? Avoid the over-salted salt cod, and send back your pork belly if it’s under-rendered (as mine was).

Special feature? Try the riff on a dark & stormy: ginger beer and dark rum. Here they add orange bitters for structure.

Private room? Yes.

Will I be back? Yes. Not since the now-closed Urena has New York experienced progressive Iberian fare at such a level.

Aldea is at 31 W. 17th St., near Sixth Avenue. Information: +1-212-675-7223; http://aldearestaurant.com.

What the Stars Mean:

****         Incomparable food, service, ambience.
***          First-class of its kind.
**           Good, reliable.
*            Fair.
No stars     Poor.

(Ryan Sutton writes about New York City restaurants for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this column: Ryan Sutton in New York at rsutton1@bloomberg.net.

Last Updated: June 17, 2009 00:01 EDT