Friends,

I don’t know about you, but I feel like these summer is going by way too fast! How are we in August? The Halloween decor is already on the shelves at Marshall’s!!!

Deep breaths.

To help us all stay in the summer moment, I’ve got a weekend of barbecues and backyard bashes starting tonight at Popina, where wine guru and Strong Buzz pal James O’Brien is hosting a casual, al fresco hang with New York Times bestselling author Katie Parla to celebrate her recent book, Rome--A Culinary History, Cookbook, and Field Guide to the Flavors that Built a City. James is pulling out all the stops for this party—he’s got live music by Simon Dufour, a negroni & spritz bar, and food inspired by Rome. I’ll be there and hope to see you! Reserve here,

If this sounds good, I’ve got three more fantastic chef-driven parties happening this weekend below the jump. Hope you will consider upgrading to become a paid member of the community here.

Also, from now through Sept 1st, my So you Want to Be a Food Writer, bootcamp class is half-off! Sign up here for $40 access to this two hour workshop where you’ll learn all the basics -- from pitch to sale -- of how to get started in the world of food writing.

Have a great weekend and see you Monday.

Andrea

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I’ve got a question for you. Actually a few questions. Are you the person everyone comes to for restaurant advice? Do you have a meticulous color-coded spreadsheet listing all the new restaurants by neighborhood and cuisine? Are you addicted to The Times’ Food Section, Grub Street, Caper, Eater, and maybe even The Strong Buzz? Have you ever wondered, well, maybe I can write about food too? Well, now’s your chance!

Beginning in September (a great time to go back to school), I’m launching a series of Strong Buzz classes — and the first one is all about breaking into the world of food writing.

“So, You Want to be a Food Writer,” a two-hour online class, is happening on Tuesday September 15th from 5pm-7pm on Zoom. It’s a basics bootcamp where you’ll learn all the tools to ideate and pitch your first story!

Whether you're brand new to journalism and are trying to launch a career, or just have an interest in food writing as a hobby, this is the class for you!

We will cover:

• How to develop a story idea

• The different types of food features to pitch

• How to pitch: what to say, how to position yourself, drafting, emailing, protocol and more

• Who are the key PR folks to know

• Who to pitch (and when to follow up, etc)

• How to network and build your platform

• Plus, an "Ask Me Anything" session at closing!

This is the first of a series of writing and media classes I’m going to host I hope to see you there! Sign up here!

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Masani Pizza

I grew up in Forest Hills, not the fancy part in the Gardens, but on the other side, on Burns Street off of Yellowstone Blvd. As a kid, and with my own kids, we often found ourselves at Lillian’s Pizzeria on the corner of Harrow Street and 69th Avenue. It was a family-run favorite of Ray Romano’s; a neighborhood slice joint, full of love and really good greasy slices.

Lillian and her husband Tony ran the pizzeria for almost 50 years and sold it in 2018 and then it changed hands again in 2024. They’ve now sold it to Mike Chau, the food influencer known as Food Baby, and a fellow native of Forest Hills (he and his wife and kids still live there), who has reopened it at Masani’s Pizza, a pizza sensation. The lines are longer than I think 69th Avenue has ever seen other than for the bus on the first day of school.

Like Lillian’s, this will be a family affair for Mike and his wife Alexandra; the name Masani comes from a mashup of the names of their three kids, Matty (13), Sammy (10), and Nicky (7), whose photos are hung in vintage frames up and down the restaurant’s red walls. (They’ve always been a family-business sort of crew; the Chaus, who are high school sweethearts, first came to fame with restaurant reviews that included their kids being ridiculous on camera.)

Mike grew up eating at Lillian’s every Friday night with his family—he loved Lillian’s pastas and chicken parm—and hoped to create a similar family-friendly vibe with a similar menu of pies, pastas (and soon) chicken parm and the like.

Now, Mike can do a lot of things but he’s not a chef; to do the pizza making he hired longtime friend and pizza maestro Felix Toro of the mobile pizza shop Happy Bull (a translation of his name) Pizza. “I thought of him immediately because we love his pizzas and he’s another Queens kid; He lives in flushing.”

Toro’s menu is ambitious and delicious – with garlic knots, pinwheels, classic pies and impressive pastas for a slice joint. The best of the mix is the simplest – the margarita, but they’re also doing a cacio e pepe (this one can be used as a base for an Italian salad with pepperoncini and olives, that’s a pretty fantastic combination), a pepperoni and hot honey slice, one with creamy vodka sauce, and a bouncy, crispy-crusted focaccia-based tomato-sauce and cheese covered slice called the Lilian Sicilian (which they also do gluten-free). Their tidy pasta menu uses Brooklyn Pasta Lab and leans into the same sauces from the pies; their radiatore comes with vodka sauce, and the cacio e pepe with small shells.

Dessert comes from another Queens icon – the Lemon Ice King of Corona, where I went nearly every week with my kids when we would go out to the Queens Hall of Science. You’ll love these ices, but save room for @supermoonbakehouse’s Ube Pandan Ice Cream Sandwich. They will go fast! Hope you can make it over to the shop, it’s so good!

Masani Pizza is located at 96-01 69th Avenue, in Forest Hills. It is open 12-8 daily; closed Mondays because the Chaus need a break! = )

Frenzie

You may know chefs Brendan Kelley and Daniel Grossman from Confidant, their popular Brooklyn Heights restaurant, but the pair met at Roberta’s making pizzas, which is why the opening of Frenzie next week is so exciting.

As you know, Brendan and Daniel took over the Colonie space earlier this summer to relocate Confidant, and it’s already become a beloved neighborhood staple, known for its bread service, prawn pot pie and smoked trout mousse toast (though my favorite dish of the moment is their roasted sunchoke with miso sabayon).

While opening Confidant, the pair have been working on building out the former Pips wine bar space next door, but recently had a change of direction. It started as an all day cafe they originally planned to call Lou & Bev’s. But they pivoted to a pizza and wine bar model with a menu that leans into their PhD-level pizza skills. By the end of his time at Roberta’s Brendan was chef de cuisine of all of its Brooklyn restaurants and chef de cuisine of events and developments for the company; Daniel has been a mainstay in the kitchens of New York City’s pizza royalty, including Roberta’s and L’industrie. So, yeah, there’s a ton of experience and talent between the two. I’m very excited for this one!

When they open on Aug 13th (or abouts), they will be serving NY-style pies in the vein of Roberta’s and L’Industrie, with a late night menu that will be a chef’s choice – “slices or squares, or round or whatever we are feeling that day,” Daniel told me when we chatted last week at the space. There will also be small plates, wine and cocktails and soft serve!

The team is calling it Frenzie because the word has a fun, buzzy energy and vibe. “Frenzie, in my opinion, is a watering hole,” Daniel told me. “It’s a place to gather, to come together and convene.” See you there!

Frenzie is located at 129 Atlantic Avenue; right now the opening date is set for August 13th, but things change so follow along on their Instagram for updates!

Crown Square

Rockaway native and boardwalk pizza maestro Sean Aiken (of Seany Pizza) is nearly ready to open Crown Square, his debut Detroit-style pizza shop in Rockaway. He signed the lease on this former bookstore on Rockaway Beach Blvd over a year ago and he has slowly and painstakingly renovated and redesigned it into a super cool slice shop with a Hip Hop NYC vibe – a stunning dark stained oak banquette and hard maple shelving anchors the space that’s got Knicks blue and white square tiled floors, and pops of Knicks orange on all the chairs. A window counter perch looks out onto the Boulevard with a view of the wide ocean beach beyond the boardwalk and the sound of the A train rumbling in the distance. It’s kind of dreamy.

When I stopped in a couple of weeks to chat with Sean and check in on his progress, the place was looking beautiful and he’s ALMOST ready to serve bubbly pans of frico-crowned pies (hence Crown Square) and slices, wings, and, on weekends, breakfast pastries from Brooklyn’s The Native Bread, a killer breakfast burritos, BEC sandwiches, and breakfast pizzas too!

If you’re looking for olive oil, hot honey, a jar of gorgeous Calabrian chiles, or really good pasta, he’s curated a nice little pantry section on one wall of the shop so you can get some fine picnic supplies there too. He plans to do delivery as well! So excited for this one to come to life.

Crown Square is located at 9904 Rockaway Beach Blvd. Follow along @crownsquarepizza and @seanypizza to get updates on opening day and in the meantime visit him on the Beach 97th Street Boardwalk at Seany Pizza for his wood-fired slow-fermented Neapolitan pies.

Welcome to the Weekend Buzz, my friends.

For today’s edition, I’m expanding the strict definition of weekend to go into next week because it’s summer and there are a few really special events happening during the week – on Tuesday, a clam bake with one of my favorite chefs — Armond Joseph — and on Wednesday, an al fresco oyster party with chef Danny Garcia built for summer sunsets with friends.

And for the weekend, I’ve got a viral pizza spot that’s just debuted brunch service, a West Village fave opening a weekend window and brunch service, and a new restaurant built to feel like summer camp with an Airstream Kitchen, Frozen Cocktails, Lobster Rolls, Bomb Pops and Soft Serve. Bring your own Calamine. = )

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Friends,

As the title of this post probably makes clear, I’m debuting a new column here on The Strong Buzz where I share — you guessed it — five things I love. Most will be about food, trends, restaurant dishes, pantry items, or cocktails, but I’ll also color outside the lines and get into tools I use in the kitchen, the books I can’t put down, what I keep stashed in my purse, my go-to running gear, or what I pack with me when I’m on a long drive. Also, I realize knowing what I love is nice and all, but what my friends love may be even more interesting to you all, so I’ll be featuring the favorite things of the chefs, restaurateurs and other fabulous friends in my orbit.

This new column is starting out free, but it will become an added perk for paid subscribers to The Strong Buzz who already get the weekly Weekend Buzz in addition to all the free weekly content you’ve come to expect over the past 20 or so years that I’ve been writing The Strong Buzz (it debuted in 2003!).

I’m kicking off the column with My Fab Five Summer Cocktails. Cheers!

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MY FAB FIVE SUMMER COCKTAILS

Summer is made for a few essential things — beaches, books, backyard dinners, long lazy days, gathering friends, bottles of pink wine sweating in an ice bucket, cold pints of beer sipped on the muggy afternoons, and breezy refreshing cocktails, preferably with tequila, which is my spirit of choice. Consider this your summer cocktail list, check ‘em off one at a time and let me know what you think.

The Peachy Keen at Hidden Rivers

Beer cocktails, particularly The Spaghett, are really having a moment. At Hidden Rivers, a new beer garden in Gowanus, owner Patrick Watson is doing five of them including a Michelada, a Gin Shandy, a pair of Spaghetts (daytime and nighttime!), and my favorite of the bunch, a cocktail called the Peachy Keen. If you like a margarita, this one’s for you; It’s made from reposado tequila, Hudson Valley Peach Silhouette sour, and fresh lemon juice, poured over ice into a fat rocks glass. It’s bright and refreshing, with enough peachy sweetness to balance the cheek-puckering sour kick. Grab some friends and a picnic table in their sprawling backyard and a plater of their pimento cheese and crackers, and call it a day.

The Sharona at Eel Bar

Everyone is all about the Negroni, but The Sharona, a Negroni that’s tuned up with sherry, is even better (and yes the song My Sharona will now be stuck in your head all day, but at least it’s a good song!). The Sharona is the creation of the fine folks at Eel Bar, the Basque-inspired restaurant and sibling to Cervo’s on the Lower East Side, where gin is replaced by manzanilla sherry, so it’s dark and juicy, the color of the perfect lip gloss, and also a bit lower in alcohol than a traditional Negroni, so you can have more than one without worrying that you’ll take the F home in the wrong direction. (Not that I have ever done this.)

The Shark Bite at the Rockaway Hotel

This cocktail has been on the menu at the Rockaway Hotel since day one and there’s a good reason for it. Beverage Director Nancy Santiago created this one to be all the things you want a poolside drink to be: refreshing, crushable, and just spicy enough to give it a little bite, a nibble if you will. Like a fiery cousin of the margarita, The Shark Bite is made from Ghost Pepper tequila, muddled cucumber, watermelon, and fresh lime juice, and is finished with a Tajín chili rim. It’s delicious as a drink that honestly would probably also make a great salad. “When I set out to create the opening cocktail menu for The Rockaway Hotel, my vision was simple: approachable cocktails that are balanced, refreshing, and easy to enjoy from the first sip to the last,” Nancy told me. She’s right. I recommended getting a pitcher, a poolside lounge chair, and a group of friends. They do day passes at the hotel. What are you waiting for?

The Viva la Vida at Bar Bruno

It’s hard to pick one frozen drink of summer when there are so many great ones. I’ve already written about all the ways to love pina coladas and get caught in the rain, so my mind naturally went to the other frozen classic, the Margarita. But this one’s a bit different than your run of the mill frosty tequila slushie.

Bar Bruno’s Viva la Vida is a frozen potion made from mezcal, green key (a green chartreuse substitute that is more affordable but tastes almost exactly the same), pineapple, coconut, and lime. Picture the love child of a pina colada, a mezcal margarita. I love it. Add a bowl of their guacamole and chips or chef Orion’s aguachile of the day, and you’re ten degrees cooler in every way.

The Spritz al Limoncello at Bar Ferdinando

The Spritz is the sun-kissed glow of summer. Whether you’re going Aperol or Hugo, the cocktail has just the right fizz and fun to pair with your tan lines and Bain de Soleil. For this sunny spritz, Bar Ferdinando’s manager and supremely charming cocktail man Ricardo Echiverri brings limoncello into the conversation, adding a sweet-tart aromatic elegance to the typical appertivi.

Ricardo explained that the cocktail—made from Paolina Limoncello (a housemade version is in the works) cucumber, elderflower, sparkling wine, and club soda—is not a riff on the Hugo Spritz, but a showcase for “the freshness and aromatic quality of limoncello in a more balanced way.”

On a hot summer evening, with a bowl of Sal’s Vongole Frites, sitting in the bar that’s been at the end of Union Street in Carroll Gardens for over a century, there’s nothing better.

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Ten years ago, I wrote a story for Eater about chef who I thought had a very cool origin story. He was a Yale-educated sculptor-turned-fisherman; Ned Baldwin was his name, and his restaurant was called Houseman. Ned spent his early career as an artist, but found that the day in and day out of a solitary studio-bound sculptor trying to find a gallery wasn’t really for him. Inspired by his father-in-law, a serious home cook who took him along on shopping expeditions through ethnic markets of Atlanta, and who roped him into sous-cheffing his elaborate meals, Ned found he loved working at the stove more than he did in the studio. A seed was planted.

That seed led to a career pivot and to stints at Ducasse, Jean Georges, Seeger’s in Atlanta, Casa Mono, and Prune, where he spent four years with chef Gabrielle Hamiton, starting out as a line cook and ending as chef de cuisine. “It was like getting another undergraduate degree,” he told me back then.

His restaurant, Houseman, grew from a pop-up series he was doing out on the North Fork— Houseman’s at Latham’s—a giant recurring dinner party using local farmers and fishermen as inspiration. The pop-up gave him the exposure he needed to find investors and open a restaurant of his own. He toured 70 spaces before he found the vacancy at 508 Greenwich Street. He opened Houseman in 2015, as a canvas for his favorite things – weird fish, seasonal produce, and soulful cooking.

A few years in, when things felt settled, Baldwin did something rather unusual; he turned the kitchen over to his then chef Dara Tesser (formerly of Prune), and started working front of the house. The year he spent on the floor not only made it easy for him to jump in and cover any shift, but also gave him a new appreciation for his community; he now knew the people he was cooking for. His regulars became a kind of family – including Lonti Ebers, an art collector and trustee of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, and her husband Bruce Flatt, the CEO of Brookfield Asset Management, who brought him on to open Zoli, which opened earlier this summer and is already rising to acclaim.

I’ve been eating at Houseman on and off for over ten years now, fitting it in between reviews and openings and hot tables of the moment. It’s a steady companion, a promise always kept.

The other night while having drinks at the bar, I sat down next to a gentleman who, it turns out, has also been a regular since opening day. We were strangers when I arrived, but 45 minutes later, Michael and I were friends. We hugged goodbye and exchanged emails to keep in touch. When Michael left to meet his wife, I turned to chat with Sam, who I learned had just finished grad school. I was reading The Reservation; he was reading The Godfather, and we chatted about books and eventually about life. We also exchanged information and now follow each other on Substack. One bar, one hour, two new friends. It’s that sort of place, Houseman is: shelter from the storm, a warm embrace, a salve for the world’s cruelties.

The food is also some kind of wonderful, what you might expect at an elevated neighborhood joint, a place where the simple becomes spectacular. Like his mentors, Baldwin’s heart is with the people behind the food. On any one of his plates you will find ingredients pulled from the nearby soil, animals raised by thoughtful farmers, fish reeled in from not too distant seas (some by Ned himself). He’s also keen on contrast; in every plating there’s a yin and yang, heat pushed against cold, spice balanced with sweet, crunchy falling on smooth. The work of building that kind of dichotomy on the plate is where the thrill comes in. One note isn’t getting you anywhere. It’s climbing the steep hill only to drop over the edge into a free fall. That’s where the pulse quickens. That’s what Ned does in every dish.

Take the plumbs, tart and cute, the color of a blushing magenta sky at dawn, tossed with juicy slices of Beefsteak tomato propped up against bright pops of sherry-pickled shallots and peppery mustard greens. Or the warm tahini with chili crisp showered with a verdant spray of blistered sweet peas, snap peas, and twirls of tendrils; I’d pack that into a pita and call it lunch.

Here in the dog days of July, dinner is full of long slow sentences written with ingredients that have grown ripe in the hot summer sun: cantaloupe and white cucumber are living their best lives here, doused in a bracing and fiery fish sauce vinaigrette made with lime, spring onion, chilis, ginger, cilantro and crushed cashews. It’s a dressing that speaks at a high volume, loud and proud. You could conceivably put it on styrofoam and you would go back for seconds.

Ned’s roast chicken is kind of a master class in how to cook a bird. Its skin is cracklingly crisp, the shade and texture of really good french fries. It’s served on a sweep of charred summer corn scraped from the cob and set up with poblano peppers and wax beans, so good I’d eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, cold from the fridge.

The son and grandson of fishermen, Baldwin has a ginger scruff and the ruddy look of someone who was born in an Aran sweater; naturally, he has a fishing boat and goes out on the water almost daily, so you’ll be good to go with any fish on the menu (and that’s the heart of his cooking at Zoli). He tends to like the ugly ducklings of the sea, the tossed back by-catch —porgie, dogfish, bluefish, fluke, sea robins—winged fish, like mythical cursed creatures that croak like frogs soon as they’re hoisted from the water, but right now he’s been doing Montauk fluke and a glossy hake with olives.

An essential to any and every meal, are the “fried uglies” a collection of rough-cut potatoes deep fried like patatas bravas so they are audibly crunchy; adding to the symphony of sound is a dusting of dukkah made from warm savory spices and nuts: sesame seeds, almonds, and crushed coriander seeds that perhaps Ned will consider packaging in glass jars for guests (like me) to take home. Please.

Ten years in, Houseman feels as important and essential as ever; it may be chef-driven, but it’s preserved by its regulars. On cool fall nights, folks step past the gourds and pumpkins strewn across the doorstep for roasts and slow cooked ragu. In winter, when the sun recedes by 4pm, neighbors stroll in for braises, stews, and housemade sausages. In spring, when the rains come and the tables are set with flowers, the regulars come for the first ramps and rhubarb. And in summer, when tomatoes and corn and melons are on every table, the kids run in and out through doors pulled open to the sidewalk and giggles float in the air like bubbles.

Houseman has the patina of a wise and wily old soul; it’s a restaurant rich with stories, full of moments and memories. And it doesn’t hurt that the food is fabulous, too. You’ll leave wanting to come back for all of it. Don’t forget.

Welcome to your weekend!

I’m back from my writer’s residency and working my way back into a groove here in Brooklyn, trying not to eat too much salad, or get washed away in a flash flood, or lost in a cloud of Canadian wildfire smoke. It’s a lot. Anyway, I feel like we should lean into things we can control, like weekend plans! I’ve got a fabulous new beer counter in Windsor Terrace, a great Red Hook bakery collab, a sprawling new rooftop bar in Bushwick for cocktails, bites, and good company, and a restaurant giving away free prosecco and cake!

The Weekend Buzz is for paid subscribers only; all this writing and reporting takes a lot of time and I’d love it if you’ll consider supporting my work!

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First came the Michelada, then the Shandy. Now comes the Spaghett, a crisp, fizzy Aperol spritz-inspired beer cocktail served in an icy cold bottle of Miller High Life, naturally; it’s the Champagne of Beers.

If you’ve never heard of a Spaghett, don’t feel bad; neither had I. I learned about it a few weeks ago when I interviewed my friend Patrick Watson when he opened Hidden Rivers, his new beer bar in Gowanus, where 12 taps show off New York State’s finest suds and beer-focused cocktails are at the forefront. When he told me about the Spaghett, I was rather incredulous. “A Spaghetti?” I asked, convinced he had meant to say he was serving pasta.

“No, not pasta, it’s a Spaghett! It’s one of the simplest pleasures in life,” he explained of the drink that was invented in 2016 by bartender Reed Cahill at Wet City Brewing in Baltimore, Maryland; a Miller High Life with an ounce poured out into a shot glass, fill the bottle with an ounce of Aperol, add a squeeze of lemon. The shot of beer goes to the server (cheers!), and the guest gets the Spaghett.

Patrick is putting a lot of love into the formula, doing both a Daytime Spaghett, made with equal parts Aperol, Contratto and fresh squeezed lemon juice hit with a little honey, and a Nighttime version leveled up with Amaro and Dolin Rouge. “It’s the perfect backyard summertime drink,” he said.

I spent most of Sunday drinking them while watching The World Cup, and I have to say, I wholeheartedly agree. The Spaghett comes in at a lower-ABV compared to a real cocktail, which is very nice for day drinking. Plus, it’s fizzy, slightly bracing and beautifully balanced, and there’s something rather magical about drinking a pink cocktail out of a ice cold bottle of Miller High Life.

Matt Sherman, 49, who lives in Carroll Gardens, was introduced to the Spaghett last summer at Abilene, his local bar and was instantly hooked. “It’s hard to be a dude of a certain age ordering Aperol spritz,” he said. “It feels a little less traditionally manly, but the Spaghett is the same principle. It’s refreshing and gives you a little juiciness and I love the ritual of having a bartender get the extra shot of High Life.”

When Matt’s father died a few months ago, his barfly friends knew what to send for the Shiva. “I came home from meeting the Rabbi to find a twelve pack of High Life and a bottle of Aperol on my doorstep. My mom and sister were like,” What the hell even is this? I popped open High Life poured in a shot of Aperol, went out on the back porch, and took a sip.” It’s that kind of drink.

Of course, once I discovered The Spaghett at Hidden Rivers I began to see them everywhere — at the newly reopened Montero’s in Brooklyn Heights, at Abilene in Carroll Gardens, Congress Bar in Cobble Hill, where it’s made with pony beers, at Bar Great Harry on Smith Street, where Berto Aperitivo is used instead of Aperol, and at Honoré Club in Ridgewood, where it’s done the classic way. In the city, it’s an off menu special at Bar Pimi and also on the menu at Pinky Swear.

And then, while researching the trend for this story, I stumbled onto the kings of the Spaghetts – Lucas Fenton and Eggy Godlee —friends who grew up together in New York City and now run Spaghetts of NYC, an Instagram channel they started about a year ago that aims to review, rank and archive all the Spaghetts in the city.

The pair of twenty-something friends are industry folks – Lucas works for a beer distribution company and Eggy is a server at a Brooklyn restaurant — who started the channel when they discovered an egregiously priced Spaghett ($18!) and decided they needed to share where not to go for the humble beer spritz.

“The Spaghett shows you that the most simple thing can be so delicious,” Eggy said. “It’s an elevated twist on a classic spritz which is such a universal drink, but at its root affordable and fun. It’s also a conversation starter. People will be like “why is your High Life that color?” He’s not wrong there. It is an instant social networking device.

Their journey of 70-ish Spaghetts (so far) has produced a few favorites (they have a leaderboard here): the ones served at Dolly Swing & Dive in Williamsburg and at Greenwood Park in Park Slope, where it’s on their happy hour menu. While they are partial to the classic Aperol and High Life combo, they also shout out the one at Ray’s made with Faccia Brutto Apertivo and the one served at Que Beer in Gowanus, where it’s made with a Czech beer poured from a Lukr tap, which is patented for Czech pilsners and releases a creamy velvety foamy head on top. “It’s a totally different experience,” Eggy said.

The pair are adamant about two things: a Spaghett must be made with a MHL and it must be affordable. “It shouldn’t be more than $10, and even that is a bit ludicrous when you see the price of Miller High Life,” Lucas said. “Ideally, it’s in the single digits.” I’m here for that.

I hadn't planned on going on vacation with my ex-husband’s girlfriend. And her kids. And my kids. My ex-husband, too. But there we all were in Kyoto on a long-awaited vacation meant to celebrate my son’s Bar Mitzvah. (You know, the usual Bar Mitzvah trip to Japan.)

We were staying at one of the city’s Ryokan, the centuries-old inns, in a room with tatami mats, sliding shoji—the washi-paper covered lattice framed sliding doors—and a peaceful garden with stone sculptures, and pom pom-sized cherry blossoms in full bloom shading a burbling fountain. I was reading on my futon, trying to eke out a few more hours awake to battle jet lag and checked on the kids.

They were still up, the four of them: my two kids and my ex-husband’s girlfriend’s two kids, piled on their tatamis, in a hilarious discussion of an anime I did not understand. I got back onto my mat, and texted my ex-husband. “Kids are good. No rush for you two getting back in the morning. I’ll take them to breakfast and meet you two at the shrine at noon.”

We divorced in the rough wake of COVID; a virus that was a mighty catalyst for the loss of life and love. But curiously, as we moved apart, we managed to come together. Our kids were 8 and 12 at the time, and at that stage, particularly because my ex is an involved and present father, there were built in bridges for us to stay a family: parent-teacher conferences, weekly flag football games, birthday parties, but also the joint work of managing the emotional minefield that comes from two kids spending elementary school staring at a screen in a house with parents who are unravelling. Also, and this is a secret I’ll share; joint custody relieves a lot of the stress of marriage with children.

During that first summer apart, when the kids asked about a family vacation, we decided to go together, the desire to keep a family in that same safe and familiar square shape, four sides, not the three of a tippy triangle. We could enjoy the kids together, and the pain of the divorce was receding; he was dating, so was I. The kids were happy, and that was the ultimate goal.

As the years passed we did more trips together, to London and Paris, Connecticut and the North Fork. We met for family dinners once a week. When my mom had to be hospitalized he stepped up and took the kids for far more of his share than he needed to. When his mom had to have her hip replaced and he flew to Florida for weeks, I did the same for him. We had settled into a comfortable co-parenting partnership, and I’d say even a new kind of friendship, bound together by the love of our kids, and a desire, on my part at least, to erase the battle royale post-divorce relationship of my own parents.

When the trip to Japan came up, he mentioned his girlfriend was also planning a trip with her boys at the same time. “It’s a coincidence,” he said. “She’s been planning it too,” he said, sort of shrugging his shoulders. “So is she coming on vacation with us?” I asked. “No no she’s planning her own trip, and we will have ours,” he assured me. “Okay,” I said. I was fine with our stitched up four-sided square but I wasn’t sure about a trapezoid or whatever shape a seven sided family would be. I wasn’t sure there even was a seven-sided shape. Is a septagram a thing? I was never any good at geometry.

Anyway, as our planning got started, my ex and I created a Google doc to map out ideas — well he created it; he is much better at spreadsheets than I am. Food was a priority, so were shrines and nature and also thrifting (for me and our older son). While I was adding in Butagumi, the legendary tonkatsu restaurant one morning, his girlfriend’s avatar popped up in the right hand corner of our Google sheet, like an intruder, a spy. I nearly recoiled. Forget nearly. I audibly recoiled. My cat’s ears pricked up at the sound of it.

What was she doing in our spreadsheet? Why was she lurking around? I was clearly irritated, and I tried to sort out my reaction. I liked her very much – she was funny and smart; we had a good rapport and she loved my kids. But seeing her (very) pretty face up there in the corner of our family’s vacation spreadsheet, I felt a bit violated. I texted my ex. “Hey, I didn’t realize that our doc was being shared?” Three dots came immediately. “Oh, she’s just seeing what we are doing for ideas. Don’t worry.” I was worried.

Later that day he sent a text: “Mind if she and the boys come on the ramen tour?” My pulse got faster. Alarm bells started dinging. I didn’t want to feel like a clunky extra wheel on their family mini-van for six. “I don’t mind, but let’s have a chat and make sure we are on the same page about this vacation,” I wrote him back after several (many) rounds of deep breathing.

We got together for a coffee to break it down. “I can’t be in Japan at the same time as my girlfriend and not see her,” he said, frankly. “I get that,” I offered, “but this is also our family vacation. It’s not that I don’t like her, but I don’t want to feel like some third wheel. And the kids will want time with us, time for the four of us.”

“I hear you,” he said. “Let’s plan things together and apart and we will have a schedule and follow it.” I agreed, and we began planning our family vacation with time for our family to do things along and time allotted with his girlfriend and her boys. I added a few dinners, and a visit to the Moss Forest; she scheduled a tour of the bamboo forest, and some sumo wrestling. Our itinerary took shape. But as the months passed, other things were revealed. We would be staying in the same Ryokan in Kyoto, we would be on the same flight home. I felt a pang, protective of my vacation with my kids. But there wasn’t much to do. The plans were made. I wasn’t about to tell her to cancel her trip and we were not going to cancel ours. I would try to be a grown-up. I could do that. Right?

Surprisingly, yes.

Some days we traipsed around together. Other times we split up, her family doing one thing, ours doing another. Some days it was me with some of the kids, them with others, depending on who wanted to thrift and who wanted to try Japanese McDonald’s and Ben’s Cookies (absolutely amazing cookies she introduced us to). When we checked into the Ryokan the proprietress smiled the smile of someone who’d never had a man check-in with his ex-wife and girlfriend before. My ex spent some nights with us, but most with her, which was actually easier in terms of privacy and bathroom time.

We had long beautiful kaiseki meals together dressed in kimonos, and cheap bowls of magnificent ramen slurped quickly at counters sitting elbow-to-elbow with salary men and office ladies. We strolled under a canopy of blushing cherry trees at Ueno Park, the kids in a gaggle, them holding hands, leaning into each other. Many times, I walked alone. In those moments, my heart scrunched up like it was squinting into the sun or tasting something tart. But I realized it wasn’t as much jealousy as it was nostalgia for a time when we were together, when our family was truly a four-sided unit, not some patched up geometric casualty.

I’ll admit that there were a few moments that were hard, tinged with a bit of sorrow or self-pity because he has found his person (a wonderful person), and I haven’t. And given the state of the apps and dating for women in their 50s, it seems likely I wont. But there was mostly a feeling of contented acceptance of this new normal for us. While we aren’t married any more, I care about him deeply. He will always be part of my story, and my kids’ lives. And I want him to be happy. And one more thing. I don’t mind walking alone.

So when, on the last night of our vacation, the kids all wanted a sleepover and my ex asked if I would have all the boys in my room so he and his girlfriend could have some alone time, I didn’t hesitate. “Sure,” I said. “All good.” And it was. Maybe there is a seven-sided shape after all.

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I imagine a fair number of you are heading out East at some point this summer—whether it’s for a weekend, a week, for Brandi Carlile at the Lighthouse (thank you Maddy!), or one of those “quick overnights” that somehow require six different outfits and several straw hats.

There are a lot of new restaurants opening, and the top notch team at New York Magazine already did a thorough job rounding those up, so I’m not going to compete there. I’m planning dinner at Miracle (can’t wait to see you Michael Nolan!), and I’m also heading to Barlume Beach where I assume I will raise the average age by two decades and the average weight by twenty pounds.

For my guide to the East End, I went down a slightly different lane; the Waze route if you will: I’m tackling the pop-ups. Some are repeat residencies (Rocco, Cedric, Adam), but others are brand new (Dante at the Pridwin, Delilah’s at Mary Lou’s, Peconic Gold Oysters at Lieb, and one wild culinary immersion weekend in Greenport). I’m covering both forks and that lovely little island in between, so you’ll find something for every budget and vibe.

Here’s what’s worth knowing.

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South Fork

Delilah’s at Mary Lou’s (Montauk)

Delilah—the very LA, roaring 20s, dinner-and-a-show spot—is taking over Mary Lou’s in Montauk this summer. The seated dinner experience, presented by h.wood (The Nice Guy, Bird Streets and Harriet’s) and Chase Sapphire Reserve, includes classic American-inspired dishes, overflowing coupes of chilled champagne, sky-high seafood towers, surprise performances, live music from the Delilah Band and show-stopping dancers every night.

They’re kicking things off July 25 with Nicole Scherzinger (yes, that one), and T-Pain the following weekend. Last year brought Gwen Stefani and a lineup of DJs I had to Google, so you know it will be lit as the kids say.

Dinner is $150-$195 per person. Reserve: Delilah Montauk presented by Chase Sapphire Reserve® - Montauk , NY on OpenTable and Chase Sapphire Reserve Credit Card | Chase.com.

Red Hook Tavern at Mary Lou’s (Montauk)

Red Hook Tavern is out in Sag Harbor, sure, but they’re also going to be popping up in Montauk for those out near Ditch Plains. Billy Durney is doing a Golden Hour pop-up with his dry-aged Red Hook Tavern burgers and silver-dollar sized waffle cut fries at Mary Lou’s. Two days only (July 23–24). $40 per person; Reserve here.

Pop Up by Rocco (Southampton)

Union Pacific’s Rocco DeSpirito (is it wrong that he will always be that young brilliant cook from UP to me?) is back out East doing a rotating Southern Italian menu—crudos, pastas, and assorted summery things that make sense with a glass of something cold and pink. It’s open weekly from Wed-Sun, 5:00pm- 9:30pm at 136 Main Street.

Alba Spiaggia at Montauk Surf Club

Chef Adam Leonti returns to Montauk this summer with Alba Spiaggia, and it’s one of those menus where you can go in a lot of directions depending on your mood and appetite: wood-fired pizza, a bowl of pasta, a nice Creekstone Farms steak, or a flurry of small things—summer corn, a crudo, the shrimp with trapanese pesto, burrata, crispy zucchini blossoms—and call it a tasting menu. Yes, it’s a scene, but the food is also reliably good.

Reserve here.

Wayan & Ma•dé at EHP Resort (East Hampton)

Cédric and Ochi Vongerichten are back for the summer, serving beautiful harbor views, and big, bold, high heat Southeast Asian flavors. Good for when you want to remember how nice things can be out there.

Reserve here.

Shelter Island

Dante at The Pridwin

The West Village cocktail institution Dante, is doing a summer collab at The Pridwin, which—if you haven’t been in a while—has gone from slightly Dirty Dancing (the way it was when I was a kid and used to drive out with my mom and my brother in our station wagon) to its current fabulous form, a bit more White Lotus.

The cocktail menu, presented by New York Cocktail Company, includes their signature freezer-cold martinis, but also post-beach drinks like the Sunset Spagliato, Amalfi Lemon Spritz, and Mezcalito Paloma, alongside small bites.

My favorite part of this pop-up? Every Sunday they’re hosting Martini & Mahjong night from 5-7 pm which includes cocktails and a Mahjong game and lesson with Hampton’s Mahj!

Reserve here.

North Fork

The Weekend Dose at Lin Beach House

If you’re up for a commitment, the Weekend Dose from The Lin Beach House is built for you. It’s a wild and wonderful immersive culinary experience ($2000 per room) rooted in the North Fork’s farms, fisheries, vineyards, and waterways.

You’ll enjoy a pound-trap fishing excursion, a hands-on gin blending class at Matchbook Distilling Co., a seasonal preserves workshop, chef-prepared breakfasts, picnic baskets for exploring Greenport, cocktails around the campfire, and dinners by resident chef Blake Lieberman, who’s cooked at Blue Hill Stone Barns, Roberta’s, and Restaurant 108 in Copenhagen, the former sister restaurant to Noma.

This one’s a commitment, but if you’re into that kind of structured, food-driven escape, where everything is planned for you and you have to make zero decisions (yes please), it actually sounds kind of great.

Reserve here.

North Fork Oyster Nights (Peconic Gold)

Here’s a flawless formula: oysters, wine, sunset. Get them all at the North Fork Oyster Nights held at Suhru & Lieb Vineyards on the last Friday of the month through August. There are two more this summer: Friday, July 31, 2026 and Friday, August 28, 2026 at Suhru & Lieb Vineyards located at 13050 Oregon Rd.

In addition to the monthly Friday vineyard events, Peconic Gold Oysters sets up a raw bar on First Fridays on Love Lane in Mattituck from 6–9 PM throughout the summer. Pop into Mint and get a cute outfit while you’re there.

Reserve here.

Marlow East at Sparkling Pointe (Aug 15)

This one’s perfect for a big group of friends or family. On Saturday, August 15th, from 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm, Chef Braxton Decker and the Marlow East team are hosting a one-night-only pop-up at Sparkling Pointe, cooking a classic seafood boil with blue crab, jumbo shrimp, clams, andouille sausage, and local corn, as well as passed snacks including pimiento and country ham croquettes, deviled eggs with pickled shrimp, and grilled North Fork oysters.

Sparkling Pointe’s award-winning Méthode Champenoise wines will be poured throughout the evening, including Brut, Cuvée Carnaval Rosé, and Cuvée Carnaval Blancs. So good.

$110 per person; Reserve here.

Low Tide Bar at Sound View

Low Tide Bar is a secluded, sand-in-your-toes beach bar at the Sound View in Greenport that serves up painted-sky sunsets over the Long Island Sound in a setting that makes you feel almost like you’re a pampered castaway somewhere in Bali.

You could just sit there with a book and your thoughts and that would be enough, but over the summer they host celebrated bartenders every weekend with live music and a blazing bonfire lit nightly at 7 pm. It’s a great way to unwind and tune out the world.

Schedule and reservations here.

Did I miss something? Leave a comment!

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The chef had disappeared. Sold his restaurant and left town. There were rumors about where he went. Some said he flew to Lima to try to work with Mitsuharu Tsumura at Maido. Others guessed he was in Italy living on a farm in the hills of Umbria that he loved, or that he had taken a flight to Japan and was learning Kaiseki in Kyoto.

The thing was that even if someone could find him, odds were he wouldn’t talk to anyone. He wasn’t exactly the most press-friendly subject to begin with. He was dark and moody, a swirling storm coming in, shaggy hair falling over eyes the color of the sky, but a cold one, in winter. His face was hard, all angles, square jaw, sharp cheekbones, with a nose that took a few too many beatings without the benefit of a good plastic surgeon. A former boxer (that explained the nose), he was walled off, but ready to pounce at the same time. His gaze was an intimidating glower, imposing and slightly terrifying. Scratch that. Fully terrifying. But also he was brilliant. Yes, that too.

His restaurant was one of those places where the terms heritage and artisan were a given, where a full time forager trucked in fiddleheads, mushrooms and all manner of forest foods still covered in cool earth, where the fish was caught that morning, still flopping around, and the chickens were raised on high-end gluten-free vegan fare and on a first name basis with their farmers before they were lovingly slaughtered. The Zalto crystal was polished before service, and cooks were brutalized by ego and power, beaten down into excellence or emptiness or both.

The critics went nuts. Four stars in the Times, raves from New York Magazine, Food & Wine’s Best New Chef, Esquire’s best restaurant list, and of course all the stars from MICHELIN too. Reservations were booked six months in advance and dinner was $395 per person without wine. Cocktail carts roamed the dining room, piloted by mixologists in white dinner jackets shaking freezer-cold martinis, while captains rolled roving raw bars ferrying tins of osetra caviar, ruby red shrimp, razor clams, and oysters shucked tableside.

There was chilled foie gras the texture of silk crusted with crushed marcona almonds and jewel-toned stone fruits, a duck confit seared off to a golden crisp and sauced with a jus made from port, tamarind and dark cherries, a solitary Hokkaido scallop, barely touched with heat, crowned with a creamy lump of briny uni, confit of preserved Sicilian lemon and sprinkled with dehydrated Calabrian chilis, a golden tilefish with bottarga butter sauce and crispy leeks, and an Australian lamb with a smoky eggplant terrine and a 100-layer potato galette.

The wine list was exclusively French with a few bottles listed under Friends of the Chef from Italy and the North Fork. The bar served several versions of negronis and modern originals including one called The Last Exit, a mix of bourbon, dark plum, and lime juice that had made it to the Times best cocktail list. There were well-stirred Old Fashioneds and Manhattans, Paper Planes, and the like. Classics. Nothing even close to an espresso martini would be tolerated. The room was elegant, hushed, intense, fine dining as blood sport; almost The Menu but without the arson and murders.

But then after many years of excellence, the chef shocked the world and called it quits right on the heels of being named in the top five of the World’s 50 Best and getting a third MICHELIN star. He sold the restaurant and vanished; though the press tried, they couldn’t find him. And gradually people forgot about him as they do. Connor Corrigan, a name on the digital pages of every media outlet, was now collecting dust, like a bag of fancy beans aspiring to be a cassoulet forgotten in the pantry. He was gone and that chapter of the food world, everyone thought, was over.

As it turned out, the chef was not in Lima or Italy or in Kyoto. He had packed up his Lower East Side apartment, loaded up his car and started driving north away from the city, away from the honking horns and blaring sirens, away from the stony silence of his kitchen, far from the caldron of his thoughts, mostly regrets and what ifs simmering in his head.

He had a vague idea of where he was headed; a farmer he knew was working a dozen acres on the seacoast of New Hampshire, so he drove north. I95 was a straight shot to New England and when he saw a coastline that felt rugged and raw – filled with rocks the size of mountains and wide open sky, and an angry sea full of foaming white caps, he pulled into a roadside cafe and settled in at the counter for lunch. The patio opened to the water and the place had a nice vibe, friendly folks, a high school kid was wiping down a few tables he’d just cleared, and a grey haired guy in a well worn Van Halen t-shirt (David Lee Roth, not Sammy Hagar) wandered over to drop a menu, and filled a tall glass with water. It was just tap water, and Connor was happy there was no question of whether he wanted “sparkling, still or filtered tap.”

“Hey there. What can I get you, my friend?”

“Lobster roll seems like the thing to get so one of those please.”

“We make a good one, get the lobster in from the boats right across there you can see ‘em,” he said, pointing to a collection of boats in the port. You like that cold or hot?”

“Cold. Definitely cold.”

“Sure, but I gotta say the hot one is pretty darn good – just the lobster claw and salty melted butter, squeeze-a-lemon.”

“Next time.”

“Sure thing. I’m Jack, haven’t seen you here before?”

“Yeah, new to town, needed a little break from the city.”

“Ah, Boston then?”

“No no, New York City, was a chef there.”

“Oh you don’t say. Well maybe it’s fate you came in today because I happen to need a chef, mine told me today he’s retiring. Retiring! Who does that? I’m gonna work till they wheel me out on a stretcher,” he called back to Connor as walked away and stuck the dupe at the pass in the kitchen. Connor noticed his order was handwritten, the guy didn’t even have a POS. Huh.

“So, you need a job?” Jack laughed, but kept talking. “I’ve got a good team back there,” he said, nodding to the partial open kitchen. “Chris has been with me for a couple years, he’s a solid cook but probably too green to take over the kitchen just now. It’s a pretty simple menu for someone who used to cook in the city. I’m sure you could do it in your sleep - we just do breakfast and lunch, close by 3pm every day you have your nights to yourself.”

Tracy Chapman was playing – Fast Car – and Connor took in the place: about 25 tables, maybe a dozen deuces, a half dozen rounds of four, and another six or seven red booths set up by the windows. To the side of the dining room, there was a small general store that felt like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting; a dairy case filled with cloth-wrapped cheeses, glass bottles of milk; wooden shelves made of old beams filled with scored loaves of crusty sourdough, trays of cookies, cupcakes and baked treats, and a few shelves of pantry necessities. At the cash register there was an old fashioned Ball Jar filled with Fireballs. He’d loved those as a kid. Got one from the newsstand near the F train every day after school. It felt like a sign.

“You’ve had this place a while? It feels like it has history.”

“Yes. My wife’s parents opened it back in the 50s, they took this place over from a small dairy farm. They kept the dairy and converted the farm house into a grocery and diner.

“I met my wife by accident really. She was on a vacation in Brooklyn and I was working as a waiter at Junior’s. I fell in love with her in about five seconds and followed her back here about a year later, learning the business. When her parents retired and moved down to Florida with the rest of their friends who were sick of freezing up here every winter, I took over.”

Jack skipped the part where he and Lucy tried so hard to have kids, but were plagued by miscarriage after miscarriage. Heartbroken after a stillbirth, they decided to stop trying. The kids who came into The Coast Cafe would suffice. One kid in particular, Jack’s niece Abby. She was finally coming back to town later that day. But he’d get to that.

Connor listened to Jack talk as he dug into his lobster roll – nice hunks of fresh lobster, folded into mayo, overloaded into a buttered toasted split top bun. Not bad, he thought. He’d have added another squeeze of lemon, and more salt, maybe some fresh herbs and a confetti of fried shallots over the top, but it was solid.

“You still have the dairy?”

“Yep. We still make milk – the stuff we sell here,” he said, gesturing to the dairy case in the store – and we make ice cream that the kids line up for all summer long. But the kids mostly come for the candy counter,” he said, nodding over to a collection of old wooden crates cobbled together into a Willy Wonka-ish paradise of penny candy: gobstoppers, gumballs, Hershey’s Kisses, fun-sized Baby Ruths, Pop Rocks, and Fireballs. “They come all year long and fill bags we weigh at the counter. They usually end up eating half of it before it gets weighed so it’s not exactly a profit center but it’s every kid’s favorite after school stop.”

“The lawn is nice too,” Connor said, looking through the window to the wide expanse of grass full of picnic tables with corn hole and giant Jenga blocks, kids and families spread out across the lawn, some licking cones, others eating paper-wrapped burgers, some passing around bags of candy.

“That was great,” he said, after he demolished his lobster roll, and every last fry. He got himself a vanilla cone to go and took Jack’s number. “I’ll think about the job offer. May just take you up on that.”

He did in fact; went in later that week and did a trial run; Jack hired him on the spot. It was a year later and he’d been cooking there quietly and anonymously ever since.

Winter was slow and cold and dark, but summer was bright and hot and the patio doors were always open, letting in the caws of the gulls, the salty air, and the rushing sound of the tide coming in and out. He mainly kept a low profile. Took up running, lost some weight, found a gym with a heavy bag and started boxing again. Made fucking great eggs and the best buttermilk pancakes. Baked trays of golden biscuits with flaky pages of buttery dough, made simple sandwiches from summer tomatoes with dill and flaky salt, or fried fish the local trawlers brought in on the boats, or braised pork he piled onto big rolls with a verde sauce.

The food seemed to make people happy. When he dared to look out of the open kitchen pass, he saw the same familiar faces at the counter and in the tables by the windows facing the rocky coast. He seemed to have…regulars? The best part? No one knew who he was, the local press didn’t care about a chef in his 50s making omelets and roast turkey clubs. It was as close to peace as he’d felt in years.

But at night, after one too many whiskeys in front of the fire in his one bedroom rental near The Coast Cafe, he let his mind lean back into his life before – the praise, the stars, the celebrities, but also the stress, the anxiety and the blow that sent him over the edge, the piece written by a woman at Food for Thought, a Substack of all things. Abby Hirsh. A writer who’d been around forever, writing about restaurants for her blog. She had a decent reputation, but she was really a nobody relative to the major writers. She came in a few times. Once with a man he assumed was her husband, and another time with a larger group of women who went through a lot of wine.

A week later she came out with a review that technically was good – it praised his training, his technique and presentation and the detail and grace of the service. He had been reading with a sense of dread with the knowledge that there was a big BUT coming up.

And there it was, in the last paragraph of her review. “To say there are flaws with the food at Goût would be wrong. There is nothing wrong here, there is excellence on every plate. But what is missing is something essential: heart, passion, feeling. It’s strange to have such beautiful food that is so flat it’s almost colorless. It’s like the ingredients have been stitched together into a dress that’s perfectly wearable, but that would not turn one head. And this is a place where you expect whiplash. Goût is a temple but it’s not a home. How else can I say this so it makes sense,” she wrote. “There is an emptiness to his cooking that even the most beautiful ingredients alone cannot fill.”

He packed things up after her story hit, despite the praise from nearly everyone else in the food world. He sold his restaurant because he agreed with her.

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A funny thing happened when I was in Japan. Naturally, I ate a lot of sushi—but the best meals weren’t at the grand, expensive temples of omakase. They were at tiny sushi-yas: casual, affordable counter stalls tucked into fish markets.

Which got me thinking about sushi in New York City, and how crazy expensive it is and whether it’s all worth it — especially after reading Ligaya Mishan’s recent article in the Times in which she argued that the “co-opting of sushi by finance bros, favoring optimization and spectacle over craft, in an eerie Benihana-fication of the American sushi-ya” mostly makes us bored and broke.

Rather than be bored and broke, I’ve got something better: a list of spots across the city offering thoughtful, high-quality omakase at a fraction of the price of heavy hitters like Sushi Sho ($450), Sushi Noz ($550), and Yoshino ($500).

My top five are Luya Omakase & Wine Bar in Park Slope; Sendo, Koete Omakase, and Iki Sekai in Manhattan, and Sushi Koju in Downtown Brooklyn. Runners-up include U Omakase, Mido Sushi, Ki Sushi, and Sushi Lin. Do you have a favorite affordable and fabulous spot for us? Drop it in the comments.

Also, a note. I wrote a novel, as some of you know, and I was accepted to a writer’s residency upstate, to workshop, revise and refine it. Which means The Strong Buzz is on vacation for the next two weeks so I can try to focus on getting it pub-ready. See you at the end of July!

Luya Omakase & Wine Bar (Park Slope)
15 courses, $89

I don't want to say one of these restaurants is better than the next – because, truly, each of the omakase menus I’ve included here are thrilling and memorable. But I will say this. None of the restaurants mentioned here offers as impressive and deep a wine program as Luya Omakase & Wine Bar in Park Slope. This under the radar gem is the only omakase restaurant I visited with a brilliant natural wine-forward program, a list curated by Beverage Director Irvan Xu Lin.

Lin cut his teeth at Pinch Chinese under sommelier Miguel de Leon (Michelin Guide’s Best Sommelier in NYC), where he developed a passion for low-intervention wines and sustainable viticulture. At Luya, which he opened with chef Wei Chang, he’s built a list of small-production, under-the-radar bottles alongside carefully chosen sake and spirits.

I did the wine pairing with the omakase and had wine after wine that I not only loved but had never heard of; I found myself compiling a list of new favorite varietals and producers: Maria Amorós for her Cava Brut; a bright vibrant Japanese wine called Katsunuma ‘Arugano Vento’ from Koshu grapes grown in the Yamanashi prefecture; and a gorgeous white called Les Equilibristes ’Borboyon’, from the Savoie region. He poured a Stilianou ‘Great Mother’ from Crete; and a Portuguese Ciclo ‘Vinho Branco’ and finally a sparkling Cha Pet Nat from FARMentation, a vineyard in Shaanxi China that cold ferments wine with Jasmine tea leaves. It’s no wonder his list was a finalist for “Best Newcomer Wine List of the Year” and “Sustainable Wine List of the Year” at the 2026 Star Wine List Awards.

You don’t have to do an omakase meal to try the wines, but you might as well because of course the food is also exquisite. Chef Wei Cheng is a master sushi chef with over a decade of experience at sushi temples including Sushi Noz. I found the entire experience at Luya to be fantastic – unforgettable from start to finish, three appetizers, 10 pieces, and one hand roll later.

The pieces came one after another, a steady rain of surprises: a madai with pickled plum sauce, a yellowtail with lemon juice and a haystack of crispy leeks, branzino with ponzu topped with shavings of frozen foie gras, amber jack with a chiffonade of shishito pepper, a sablefish drapped in spicy crunchy garlic chili oil, a seven-day aged bluefin tuna from Spain adorned with truffles, and a final piece of wagyu A5 crowned with a lush briny pillow of sea urchin.

Luya is like a scratch off lotto ticket that pays you $1 million, tax free. It’s just the best surprise ever.

Luya Omakase & Wine Bar (Park Slope)
219 5th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11215
(929) 773-9761

Sendo
12 courses, $48

Perhaps you’ve heard of Sendo and wondered, is it possible to do a decent omakase for $48? I’m here to tell you: it is. Sendo channels Edo-era sushi culture with remarkable precision—and unbelievable value. Helmed by 30-year omakase veteran Tsuyoshi Takahashi (formerly of Sushi Noz), the restaurant offers a minimalist menu of nigiri, hand rolls, and kaisendon, with omakase sets ranging from $19 to $48.

The top-tier Hokkaido set ($48) is almost absurdly generous: 10 pieces of nigiri (golden eye, sea bream, toro, scallops), plus two hand rolls and a kaisendon loaded with toro, seabass, ikura, shrimp, and uni over seasoned rice. It feels vaguely like theft.

The ingredients are serious—premium fish from Tokyo’s Toyosu Market, award-winning rice from Hokkaido, house-made sauces—and the careful execution reflects it. The only trade-off? Speed. This is a brisk, efficient experience; you’ll likely be in and out within an hour. Also note: the West 8th Street location does not yet have a liquor license.

Sendo
876 6th Ave 2nd Floor, New York, NY 10001
43 W 8th St 2nd Floor, New York, NY 10011 *BYOB
(646) 400-1647

Iki Sekai Omakase (Upper East Side)
14 courses, $85

Iki Sekai opened in late April, bringing a terrific and spirited Japanese sushi-ya to the Upper East Side. It’s led by a duo of chefs with impressive pedigrees; chef Gary Ke, formerly of Kinjo, and chef Po Shing Ng, formerly of Ito. Together, they showcase fish sourced across Japan: a piece of masunosuke (king salmon) pops with cherry tomato and tosazu, the luxurious Japanese seasoned vinegar; the flavor of kanpachi (amberjack) is deepened with a pinch of truffled maitake; madai, the buttery Japanese red sea bream, comes with flavors that crack like lightening — umeboshi and shiso; and a prized aged Aburi toro from Spain is painted only with aged shoyu, because it needs nothing more.

The omakase here shows off the chefs’ quiet confidence—nothing feels showy, just deeply considered. Even the rice gets meticulous attention: washed, soaked with kombu dashi, cooked and rested to achieve that perfect seasoned base.

It’s BYOB, so bring a bottle of sake or a nice mineral-forward white. And you’ll love the soundtrack—chef Po curates a nostalgic hip-hop playlist that adds just the right buzz.

Iki Sekai Omakase
1203 2nd Ave, New York, NY 10065
(646) 653-5226

Koete Omakase (Midtown)
15 courses, $118

We had dinner at Koete Omakase before seeing Death of a Salesman a few weeks ago, and it will now be my go-to pre-theater restaurant. At $118 for 15 courses in 90 minutes, it’s a standout value.

Head Chef Jason Lin is a 28-year veteran of omakase and his philosophy is right there in the restaurant’s name, which means “to go beyond.” And go beyond, he does. Of course that’s the thing with omakase, a chef-driven journey of tastes and a progression of flavors and fish from mild to mad, and Jason is a charming and gifted MC, a charming conductor, so you’ll get a little theater before the theater.

His menu is a rapid fire flood of flavors and fish — pristine seafood flown in from Japan: botan ebi, Hokkaido uni, shima aji, and A5 Miyazaki wagyu. The tuna progression alone is worth the visit: akami, then chu-toro with truffle, finishing with buttery o-toro topped with caviar. Jason has spent a good many years perfecting his rice recipe. He uses a premium Japanese short-grain rice seasoned with a house blend of black vinegar, salt, and sugar, so you’re getting flavor and texture from the rice that adds complexity and beauty to every piece.

Koete Omakase
1695 Broadway, New York, NY
917-993-4528

Sushi Koju (Ace Hotel Brooklyn)
8 courses, $85 (Mon-Wed)

You may know Ace Hotel Brooklyn for Lele’s Roman or it’s grand lobby bar; but there’s a new pint-sized sushi bar from in Hiro Nishida and LDV Hospitality. You’ll find it in the space that was once a little skylit bar room. It’s got a lovely vibe, like a forgotten room, a treasured secret.

Most days executive Chef Kevin Garrison offers a 14-course omakase journey for $165 per person, but on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, he slashes the price to $95 for an Okonomi menu featuring eight pieces of omakase nigiri — Striped Sea Bream, Yellowtail, Mackerel, Tuna, New Zealand King Salmon, Scallops, baby Kamasu (baby baracuda), and the like — with homemade Shiro miso soup. The menu’s petite size does not detract from its outsized quality; Kevin is a sushi master who has spent his entire career in service of fish — starting out in LA at Chaya and Yume and then here in the city at Sushi Zo Hanare before teaming up with LDV.

Bonus: the room features a rare vintage sound system with bespoke speakers and an Audio-Technica turntable—one of only two in existence—spinning Japanese records while you eat.

Sushi Koju
253 Schermerhorn Street, Brooklyn, NY

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Dear Parents,

We are so excited that your child will be joining us in just a few weeks at Summer Sunshine Sleepaway (aka Get The Kids Out of My Fucking Hair for Two Months) Camp.

We have a full roster of enriching arts programming, sports, entertainment, fun and excitement planned for them while they unplug and reconnect with nature over the next eight weeks!

But first, a few logistics.

Please read this letter and its Appendices and Addendums in its entirety, preferably in one sitting not interrupted by your kids, your aging mother’s doctors, your editors, your dating apps, or your noisy cat who apparently wants to be fed again. Silence those notifications and set some time aside for yourself! (We recommend three to seven hours).

FORMS

1. Please login to your CAMPMINDER account and fill out all forms. If you don’t have an account yet, registration takes approximately 60 days and requires a unique four-step verification process, so get to it!

2. Yes we know there are 113 forms and that they have to be signed by both parents and notarized and that you filled all of these forms out last year, but practice makes perfect! Persist.

3. The “Favorite Things” form is new this year – this is our way of preparing to greet your child with fond memories and we have found that it helps tremendously in the event of homesickness. The form requires 10+ favorite things (at least one per year since birth), plus first words, and any related childhood traumas around Disney movies with deceased parents. We want to make sure we don’t have any tears or tantrums!

4. The Medical Form must include all allergies and food aversions. Fears, whether realized or not, should be indicated under “Potential Triggers.”

5. Once all 113 forms are filled out, notarized, and signed in blood, please make 37 copies of each and scan them individually into CAMPMINDER. Bulk scans will not be accepted.

6. Camp Forms (all 113) must be submitted by May 5th or your camper will not be permitted to attend camp. (Your deposit and all payments will be kept though).

7. We realize that the labor of filling out forms (and packing and labelling all clothes, see below for more on that) will fall onto the camper’s mother even though she has a demanding full time job at which she is paid ½ of what her male colleagues make, and that she also carries all the invisible labor of the household – cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping, medical appointments, fixer of nightmares, finder of missing retainers, airpods, and earrings, and that she also takes care of her aging mother, but we know you will make time to fill these forms out in a timely and careful manner!

CLOTHING AND PACKING LIST

1. Please refer to the attached packing list in Addendum D3 – all campers must come with 14 pairs of every piece of clothing: tops, shorts, tops that appear to be dresses, socks, underwear, and bras that appear to be tops. Yes we realize you will have to go to Target and empty their multi-pack section but do what you must. We will only do laundry every 14 days and you don’t want your child wearing dirty clothes now do you! You do not!

2. Every piece of clothing must be labeled with first and last name; gender identity, preferred name, and pronouns. This includes socks too. We realize the label may be larger than the sock but you’ll figure it out.

3. Labels must be uniform size and we prefer these from Camp Labels R Us (click here for 10% off 200).

4. Towels and sheets and pillows are not provided. Please pack two sets of sheets, two towels, and one hypo-allergenic pillow.

5. Our beds are longer than your average bed so you need to purchase custom made sheets from this website: Expensive Sheets for Camp That Your Kids will Never Use Again.

6. Stuffed animals and comfort items are encouraged. Please refer to Appendix C2 for a list of permitted stuffed animals. Endangered species are not permitted. Come on people.

7. Emotional support pets are not permitted. Last year we had an incident with little Tommy’s emotional support hamster and we can’t really talk about that here but take our word for it, leave them at home.

ARRIVAL AT CAMP

1. Please plan to arrive at camp between 10am and 10:17am on Monday. We value efficiency and punctuality! Early arrivals and latecomers will not be tolerated. You need to set a good example for your campers!

2. If you arrive late, you will be escorted to an alternative drop off area a few miles down the road where you can sit quietly in your hot car and think about your mistakes and why you can’t seem to do anything right.

3. You can accompany your camper to the bunk and help them “set up” their cabins. Then it’s back to I95 which is still bumper to bumper traffic!

VISITING DAYS

1. Please be aware that visiting days are every two weeks on Sundays just to make sure you have no real stretch of time to relax.

2. Sunday traffic tends to be the worst day of the summer for traffic so that’s why we’ve scheduled it then.

3. Campers whose parents do not come for every visiting day tend to feel abandoned and scarred and you wouldn’t want that now would you!

CAMP POT LUCK!

Don’t forget about the Camp Potluck on the last day of camp – please be sure to bring enough of your culturally appropriate dish for the entire camp (425 of us) to share!

We at Summer Sunshine can’t wait to welcome you – between the hours of 10am and 10:17 am – on Monday June 29th! If you have any questions, please login to your CAMPMINDER account and send us a message. Messages will be answered in the order in which they are received and we can’t guarantee a reply before October 2027.

In Camp We Trust,

Marshall Landman
Camp Director

Today’s edition of the Weekend Buzz includes 100 free burgers (yes, the one pictured above), a new American tavern focused on craft beer, an Italian feast, and your ticket to watching the World Cup with freezer-batched martinis.

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Carlos Suarez, the restaurateur behind Bobo, Rosemary’s, Roey’s and Claudette, was sound asleep in Italy on a long-needed family vacation when he got the call. His restaurant, Claudette, would have to close. The landlord reported that there was an issue with the restaurant’s venting system – an old chimney that was now considered a fire risk – and the fire department was shutting him down immediately. One day he had a Provençal restaurant in a landmark Fifth Avenue building in the heart of Greenwich Village, the next day, he didn’t.

Two years of renovations and permitting later, he’s finally reopened Claudette at 24 5th Avenue with chef Igor Cabral at the helm. Igor may not a “name" yet, but he’s got the pedigree to make it happen. Cabral grew up in Portugal and moved to Marseille at 16, where he traded his law studies for his newfound love of cooking. (Sounds familiar.) He spent 10 years in the kitchens of Alain Ducasse – seven in France and three here in New York at Benoît before joining Carlos.

For Claudette, he’s doing a Provençal brasserie menu – seasonal home-cooking and classics, dishes that reflect a personal journey through Southern France. “He grew up in Marseilles and is in love with Provencal cooking and that’s been our calling card,” Carlos told me when we chatted. “He brings a level of authenticity to the menu.”

The menu is heavy on apéro favorites – oeufs mayo with bottarga; pommes chips with a towering heap of thinly sliced jambon de bayonne; crisp chickpea socca with fire-roasted aubergine, and a pissaladière is reinterpreted as a dip of deeply caramelized onions and Picholine olives served alongside a leaf-shaped loaf of fougasse — an ancient Roman flatbread cooked in the hearth’s ashes to gauge the oven temperature.

He’s also offering a robust “du marché” section full of whatever he can haul back from the Union Square Greenmarket – fried zucchini blossoms with Provençal filling, and roasted artichokes with capers and mint — drizzled with olive oil pressed by the French actor Jean Reno.

There’s a bourride derived from Cabral’s first restaurant job, where a rather tyrannical chef taught him that every detail matters in its preparation: perfectly filleted monkfish, rich confited potatoes and beautifully braised fennel. Also, he’s cooking Steelhead Trout simply prepared with classic flavors of the region – lemon and picholine olives, a cast iron chicken that might have you off rotisserie, served with leafy greens, muscat grapes, croutons, and a gorgeous Steak Frites glossed with shallot butter and fries with fizzled herbs and flaky salt. He’s also doing a dish I’d never had before – the rustic meatballs from the Ardèche region known as caillettes that he updates with lamb, which his father would cook every Sunday in Marseille.

If you’re into rosé, the bar will be your summer perch. There’s a big list of gems from the region served at the beautiful backlit bar and its adjacent gathering area, set up with custom train-station benches and enameled bistro tables, a welcoming watering hole for friends and neighbors.

After working with his interior designer cousin Guini Suarez of Dekar Design on all of his prior spaces, Carlos was finally confident (or broke enough after two years of waiting to reopen?) to tackle his eighth restaurant on his own. Luckily the man has impeccable taste. I’d love to live inside this restaurant – warm, soulful, inviting, cozy — all the things.

Carlos reimagined the formerly whitewashed space, adding Venetian plaster, Hollywood booths, and warm rift red oak throughout, from framing the dining room to paneling the backlit bar. His most treasured find? The vintage p4 pendant lights, designed by Otto Muller c. 1930. The opaline stepped-glass lamps, which hang above the bar, were the designer’s homage to Poul Henningsen’ s iconic ph lighting range. In the day it’s flooded with natural light, but in the evening it feels more polished and grown-up, a place to tuck in, stay a while.

About the restaurant’s name, and I had forgotten this. It’s named for Claudette Sammut, the Tunisian-French matriarch who left Tunisia in the 1950s to open several beloved restaurants in Provence, including the acclaimed La Fenière in Lourmarin. It was there, in 2014, that Carlos had dinner and fell so under its spell, he asked if he could take Claudette’s name for his next project before dessert had arrived. Her spirit lives on.

Claudette is located at 24 Fifth Avenue, (212) 868-2424. It is open for dinner from 5 to 10 p.m., with lunch and brunch to follow this summer. The 22-seat Flamingo Room, a private dining option complete with its own bar, will reopen come fall. Reservations can be made online at claudettenyc.com, and are also available through the Resy app. Walk-ins are always welcome.

What’s the saying — necessity is the mother of invention? Make lemons out of lemonade? Get someone else to make dessert? Yes, that. That’s what I want to talk about today.

It all started because Dawn Casale had a problem. The owner of the beloved Cobble Hill bakery, One Girl Cookies and DUMBO’s breezy all day cafe Dawn’s till Dusk, was hosting a dinner party. But that wasn’t the issue. Dawn does dinner parties in her sleep; she had her menu planned and prepped, the table scaped, the mood lit, the playlist planned. The problem was dessert. Sure, her bakery was full of beautiful little cookies, frosted cupcakes and whoopie pies, scones, muffins, tarts and quick breads. But she wanted to serve cake, and the layered birthday cakes and wedding cake tiers her shop specialized in were not really suited to dinner with friends.

“The vision for the Dinner Party Cake line came from my own need,” Dawn admitted. “Sometimes when I host I don’t have time to make dessert, and I look at what I have at the shop and while the cookies are always great, I didn’t feel I had anything beyond that for dinner parties. If I wanted a simple almond torte or an olive oil cake I’d have to bake it at home, and I have a bakery! I didn’t want to have to bake at home!” The solution was The Dinner Party Cake ($50 for a nine inch cake), a new line of last course cakes and tarts that answers the call for what to serve (or bring) for dessert.

There are five cakes in the collection – almond, chocolate, and lemon olive oil, with two options that change with the season like summer’s fresh fruit custard tart, spring’s pavlova, and fall’s apple almond. All cakes can be dressed up with your choice of chocolate ganache, sea salted caramel, curds (passion fruit or raspberry) or whips (vanilla bean or fennel) to add a little gloss and glam.

What I love about these cakes is that they look great, taste even better, and they take the panic out of dessert – you have enough on your plate when you’re hosting dinner. Even Dawn outsources her desserts! You can too.

Her cakes are unfussy and beautiful on a plate and customizable so you can truly make them your own with a whip or a curd or just a dusting of confectioners sugar at home before serving. (Toss the box, everyone will think you made them yourself!) Isn’t this the best hack ever?

And as an added gift — Strong Buzz paid subscribers get 10% off Dinner Party cakes through July 31! Code after the paywall. Order your Dinner Party Cakes at One Girl Cookies here. 48 hour notice is preferred.

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I’m heading to the Knicks parade and we’ve got a packed Thursday morning here on The Strong Buzz. I’m sharing news of three great openings — Trudie’s Tavern, Titán, and Capitaine — an open call for back of house team at Humm, and a full slate of fun for The Weekend Buzz with more fro-yo, a dumpling workshop, and a sultry speakeasy.

Trudie’s Tavern

RAD Restaurant Group’s (GERTIE, gertrude’s) Nate Adler, Rachel Jackson, and COO Emliy Tripp will open Trudie’s Tavern tomorrow in the former Buttermilk Channel space down on Court Street. The restaurant, led by chefs Mike Cain (GERTIE, gertrude’s) and Eli Friedman (Edith’s, Mile End Deli) is rooted in classic New York taverns and American supper clubs set up with a warm nostalgic vibe that feels like you’re visiting family in the ‘burbs, maybe Jersey, a house with front porch, an eat-in-kitchen, the radio on, a sprawling yard on a sunny day.

The restaurant continues to tell the story of idiosyncratic, Jewish-ish New York hospitality. While earlier concepts drew more directly from deli and appetizing traditions, Trudie’s leans into a broader American tavern format with a raw bar with oysters, crab claw dijonnaise, and daily crudos and can’t-stop-at-one bar snacks like house-baked pretzels with hot honey mustard (made by GERTIE baker Milly Berman), one “big” potato pancake with seasonally rotating toppings, and pigs in a blanket.

The focal point of the menu is a rotisserie program built around chicken that comes with house chicken sauce, schmaltzy potatoes and dill and sour cream cucumber salad, and a rotating case of sides that will follow the Greenmarket: creamed greens, Rotisserie Cabbage with Dill & Anchovy, butter beans with roasted tomato vinaigrette, and a Boston bibb wedge salad with crispy chicken skin and tahini ranch. The menu also includes a burger, a nice steak, a housemade “handkerchief” pasta, some fish and a limited supply of their “over-sized schnitzel for 2,” alongside the “big potato pancake” (aka an oversized latke).

Trudie’s Tavern opens Friday, June 19th at 524 Court Street. Hours of operation will be 4-10 pm Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, Thursday (closed Tuesdays) and 4-11 pm on Friday and Saturdays, with dinner service to start and brunch to follow later in the summer. Learn more at trudies.nyc and follow along at @trudiesnyc.

Capitaine

Capitaine, the new restaurant and bar from Cody Pruitt and Jacob Cohen, the team behind Libertine and Chateau Royale, will also open in the West Village tomorrow, June 19. Capitaine takes the place of their rustic Parisian bistro, Libertine. In its new life as Capitaine, the space is reimagined as a seafood tavern inspired by those found across Europe and New York’s great oyster bars. The menu is primarily seafood, but they’ll also be doing tavern classics like a Wagyu burger. The restaurant is designed as an all-day destination, with indoor and outdoor seating and a reimagined mid-century interior. Capitaine will open with evening and weekend brunch, with weekday service to follow later this summer. Don’t worry; their freezer cold Martinis will still be the best in the city.

Capitaine opens Friday at located at 684 Greenwich Street.

Titán

Alan Delgado (founder of Los Burritos Juarez) and Ivy Mix (Leyenda (RIP) and Whoopsie Daisy), opened Titán last night, their new Mexican spot located in the former Gran Electrica space in DUMBO. Delgado’s menu of fine Mexican cooking includes carne asada tacos with Chihuahua cheese, cod in masa tempura with slaw, and a line of fresh ceviche-adjacent aguachiles.

But the bar here is as exciting as the food, because Ivy’s focusing on both seasonality (for now that means cantaloupe, carrots, oranges, lime, tomatillo, and habanero) alongside the region’s native distillates and spirits like charanda (a Michoacán rum), Oaxacan aguardientes, and eaux de vie. She pouring Micheladas with seasonal sangritas and Leyenda margs on draft. Joining Ivy and Alan are managing partners Julian Brizzi and Lauren Broder (co-owners of Mediterranean Dumbo restaurant Celestine and Boerum Hill bar Grand Army). Broder also designed the 1824 landmarked building to feel like a dreamy Mexican casita with limewashed walls, terracotta finishes, tiles, greens, archways, wooden beams, and shelves packed with plants. They’re also serving outside in that big beautiful patio you probably remember from Gran Electrica days.

Titán is located at 5 Front St. and is open Wednesday through Sunday 5pm-10pm.

Humm Open Call

11 Madison’s chef and owner Daniel Humm, as you may have heard, is opening an eponymous 200-seat restaurant in the former En Brasserie space located at 432 Hudson Street. Yesterday on Instagram he posted an open call for his back of house team, writing, “Restaurants begin with the people who bring them to life. Next week we’re hosting two open calls for @hummrestaurant. If you’re passionate about hospitality and want to build something from the very beginning, we’d love to meet you.” Bring your resume to 11 Madison on Monday June 22, from 12pm-2pm.

Now for your Weekend Buzz, I’ve got a full lineup: a new Fro-Yo opening, a speakeasy to get lost in and a free al fresco dumpling making class that will take you to Georgia.

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James O’Brien, my longtime pal and the owner of Carroll Gardens’ beloved Popina on Columbia Waterfront, has signed a lease for a bar at the Williamsburg Wharf located at 484 Kent Ave. It will be designed by David Rockwell and feature cocktails and wine (obviously) and a small food menu; Vini Fritti snacks and the like.

The location, on a rather unpopulated section of the waterfront area — south of just about everything on the waterfront — is sort of a mirror image to the deserted stretch of the Columbia Waterfront where he opened Popina nine years ago, so he’s pioneering again. But he’ll be in good company over there. Developed by the Naftali Group, The Williamsburg Wharf will have five new residential towers and a public park under construction on the waterfront. Israeli chef Eyal Shani and Good People Group will open a new 4,000 square feet ground-floor restaurant at the Wharf as well.

James made the reveal about the bar on his Substack (you can sign up to follow along on his journey to opening), confessing he was just finally at a place where he could relax when he was sought out for the project by none other than Friend of Chef, the real estate and hospitality gurus known for deals like The Refinery at Domino Park, Tatiana at Lincoln Center, and so on and so on. The deal was conceived and executed by Friend of Chef’s Todd Birnbaum and Nick Martin along with the team at Naftali. “Todd and Nick have worked tirelessly with the great team at Naftali,” said Friend of Chef Founder Keith Durst. “Funny thing is that we helped James find his way to Cobblehook back in the day so being a part of their expansion has been very rewarding for all us.”

“Popina is heading into its ninth year later this summer, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m actually taking some time for myself,” he wrote. “Fewer mornings waking up thinking about the 47 things that are already on fire before I’ve even had coffee. And then I signed a lease for a bar in Williamsburg. A neighborhood I genuinely never thought I’d have any interest in.”

His initial reaction was a polite “probably not.” The vision was “resort-style luxury,” which made him wonder how do you bring soul, character, and neighborhood charm to something so polished and flashy? But then Durst told him that The Rockwell Group would design the bar, and he got a little more intrigued.

He talked to friends. Their reactions were mixed. “Some saw an incredible opportunity,” he wrote. “Others looked at me like I had suffered a mild head injury.”

But then he kept coming back to one word: community. And that was that. “I’ve always loved the idea of creating community in unlikely places,” he said. “Of taking a beautiful, intimidating space and making people feel like it belongs to them. And, selfishly, there’s something exciting about building something that is completely my vision—not a compromise with a partner, not a committee, but an extension of what I love. So here we go.”

He’s tinkering with names at the moment – “Al Banco” fits the concept, but he doesn’t love it. “La Sosta” is beautiful, but apparently someone beat him to it in NYC not that long ago. He’s also considering “La Nicchia—or just Nicchia.” “Intriguing,” he writes, “but I’m not sure I want to spend the next decade teaching every guest how to pronounce the name.” Got a suggestions? Put it in the comments.

The lasting note on this story is this: “One minute you’re convincing yourself to slow down and enjoy what you’ve built,” he wrote in closing his first post on the project. “The next minute, you’re signing a lease for another concept. But I suppose that’s the point. Work hard. Build things you love. Drink good wine. Fall for beautiful people. And occasionally make completely unreasonable decisions that somehow feel exactly right.”

It’s hot and the Knicks are on fire! I’ve got a great weekend of eating planned for you including the best Knicks burger I’ve ever had, an exciting Prospect Heights chef collab, and a stunning seafaring cocktail bar with beer and wine served through….wait for it: cannons.

Read it and eat!

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Last year in my Best of 2025 List, I named Naks, the boisterous and brilliant Filipino restaurant from chef Chef Eric Valdez and the guys from Unapologetic Foods, as the best of the year. If you’ve been, you know why. It’s everything — fantastic food cooked from the heart (this is a restaurant the chef has been wanting to open forever — a tribute to his native Philippines), paired with cocktails with a point of view that beam you to a seaside town somewhere in the Philippines. It’s a full throttle journey of heat, sweet, sour, and fat in every dish and wide green banana leaf. Aside from the fried chicken and the claypot adobo rice, a biryani of sorts layered with garlicky chicken and braised pork belly, a favorite of mine is the Pancit Kabute — an umami storm of noodles with wok-fired king oysters and shiitakes and a sunny-side-up egg that ties it all together. It is the best breakfast for dinner. The restaurant is the sleeper hit of the city.

Now comes Sanwits, the team’s new Filipino sandwich shop, which is a thrilling exercise in brow-mopping, sweaty-faced joy between the bread. Yes, these are sandwiches that will make you feel something, get your heart going. There’s the Lechon Dip — the sexy cousin of the French Dip. This hot hero gets stuffed with pork asado, grilled pineapple relish, and bok choy and comes with a little side of rich brothy goodness for dunking.

Of course there’s a fried chicken sammy — the Chicken Bagoong – his gloriously crackling fried bird with shrimp sauce (yes!) and roasted eggplant aioli on a pillowy brioche, and the Ribeye Cadereta a riff on the rich hearty Filipino kaldereta stew, swiped with a good measure of spicy caldereta sauce.

Of course there is also the Spam Sanwits — a tribute to the favorite tinned lunchmeat — but this one is made from house-made Spam (a serious step above) with marinated onions, lettuce, and super secret sauce on country white bread. For vegetarians he’s doing a Mushroom Adobo Melt with loads of roasted garlic, topped with melted cheese and spicy garlic honey on sourdough. The classic BEC even gets a start turn in the form of the Makati BEC – wagyu brisket topped with a crispy griddled slab of potato hash, fried eggs, melted American cheese, and beef fat mayo on a brioche roll. It’s fab but I do think an on-call cardiologist should come with the sandwich.

On the side, there are Lumpiang (crispy pork spring rolls), and a Filipino riff on Mac & Cheese with Filipino spaghetti sauce, ground beef, hot dogs and cheddar cheese (this one comes with a cardiologist and a scrip for Lipitor). Vinegar fries come with the menu caption, “these are sick, just get ‘em.” That really applies to everything on the menu. Please go and tell Eric I say hi. And also, even if you’re stuffed, walk around the block a few times and go back for the Halo, Halo — a frozen summertime necessity — shaved ice, ube, flan, jackfruit and coconut!

Sanwits is located at 149 First Avenue.