Cedric Vongerichten, son of legendary restauranteur Jean-George Vongerichten (the name Wayan means “first born”), learned well at his father’s knee…and stove. And at his wife and co-owner Ochi Vongerichten’s stove, too. She’s Indonesian by birth, which helps scuttle any talk of cultural appropriation, though to be fair, the food here blends Asian and French influences, just as so many of Dad’s famous restaurants do. It's a delectable array, from tender satays and avocado gado gado (a multifaceted salad), to baby back ribs slathered in a tamarind glaze (fall-off-the-bone tender, and lusciously crispy in places), to the seriously complex Javanese oxtail soup. Wayan has a sexy vibe to it, with lots of cut-out bronze lamps throwing patterns of light on the brick walls and wooden tables. But I had to dock it one star for noise level: All its hard surfaces make it feel like you’re dining in the roar of a subway platform.