I went into Tony, Matt Johnson’s new Anthony Bourdain biopic, as I imagine many people in the food world did: hesitant and somewhat hoping to hate it, by virtue of my aversion to the way the chef has been mythologized in the eight years since his death. While I think Laurie Woolever, Bourdain’s longtime assistant and author of a 2021 oral biography, is one of the rare people who’s earned the right to tell his story, I’ve found many other attempts to take advantage of the chef’s name and reputation lurid and unnecessary.

And so, Tony: Here is the coming-of-age biopic that promises to show Tony before he became “Bourdain.” It hits theaters on August 7, with expanded national distribution on August 21. Drawing on early chapters of Bourdain’s own groundbreaking book Kitchen Confidential, Tony limits itself to the summer of 1975, when, having failed to secure a writing fellowship as a student at Vassar College, a 19-year-old Tony follows a girl to Provincetown, Massachusetts. Desperate to make it through the summer and with his dreams of becoming a real writer temporarily dashed, he lands at the dish pit of a scuzzy restaurant, where he’s surrounded by foul-mouthed cooks who get a kick out of his missteps. In real life, Bourdain wrote of these kitchen workers — the ex-con, the ex-hippie, the “half-mad” divorcee — as being “like gods” to him, and in the movie, Tony also adopts a tentative admiration of the kitchen’s motley crew, bonding over family meal and following them to parties and drug buys.

Dominic Sessa, the rangy, curly-haired young actor who broke out with 2023’s The Holdovers, plays the movie’s namesake, while Antonio Banderas plays his reluctant mentor, an even-tempered, religiously devout chef who presides over the kitchen with few words but an imposing presence. Close readers of Kitchen Confidential will catch condensing of timelines and of characters in some places, embellishments and extreme dramatizations in others (Banderas’s character, for example, doesn’t map onto any one person in the book). The shared through line is the transformative power of this specific kitchen for the young and impressionable chef. “I was — to be frank — a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout, badly in need of a good ass-kicking,” Bourdain writes in Kitchen Confidential, and this line opens the movie. 

What makes Tony compelling, to me, is that it dares to let Bourdain be unlikeable, slowly teasing out our sympathy. In much of the movie, its namesake is insufferable, displaying not the deep-voiced, earned swagger of the worn traveler and experienced cook, but the half-cocked, shaky braggadocio of an insecure boy; it’s Bourdain, we’re reminded, who’s the myth and the legend. The movie renders Tony more of the run-of-the-mill male manipulator type. More sensitive than he’s willing to reveal but too proud to admit to his shortcomings, he gets that ass-kicking and more. 

For about Tony’s first third, I, like the girls at those Provincetown parties, found myself more charmed by Sal, the experienced cook who’s played by a sweaty, flirty, and always ready-for-a-fight Leo Woodall. Portrayed as a bad-boy big-brother type, Sal is at least self-aware that he’s a scumbag, while Sessa’s Tony radiates dejected “nice guy” energy, with cloying overconfidence that makes every rejection and punch thrown his way feel justified. Sal’s analog in Kitchen Confidential is Bobby, whose alleyway tryst with a bride still in her wedding gown leads Bourdain to conclude that he wants to be a chef. 

There are flickers of interest in food itself in Tony, and recognition of the pleasure found in food. A fish charred over coals at the beach and then drizzled with lemon is revelatory, as are raw oysters; a drunken Tony recalls a time when, as a child in France, he ate them and said they tasted like “the future.” More the case, though, is that we see Tony understand in real time the power of being the person that provides that pleasure, as with Sal or Bobby and the bride. We learn with him how kitchen work can reframe his identity: the way it can allow him to impress a girl; or achieve a sense of control; or be seen, himself, as one of those gods. 

When a man has been rendered a god for so long by pop culture, there’s something satisfying about seeing him be humbled in this way instead. In an interview with GQ, director Matt Johnson, best known for his indie docufiction, admitted that neither he nor Sessa had “literally any baggage around this guy” — this guy, of course, being Bourdain. Without the sentimental attachment to Bourdain at the peak of his fame, they set out to unpack his vulnerability and his openness to being influenced. In Tony, we see when Bourdain’s affectations — niche references, tendencies toward esoteric words — land with a thud, both a matter of him not yet having found the right audience but also not understanding his own delivery.

The thing about Tony, for better and for worse, is that it could also have worked as a movie not about Bourdain at all. Call it a cheap comparison, given the time period in which it’s set and the Sessa connection, but at its best moments, Tony feels like The Holdovers, another movie I expected to hate but didn’t. It’s a bittersweet but earnest depiction of wading through the confusing years of finding yourself, and realizing that you can’t go it alone, much as you might find yourself at odds with the people around you and how they perceive you. It’s a story about finding mentorship in unexpected places, and the complicated cycle of hurting and repairing, which we all get better with as we age but which we do so clumsily as teenagers. All of this is universally legible, big-name inspiration or not.

Its clunkiest moments, by comparison, are when Tony tries to remind you that it is, in fact, a Bourdain movie and not just a movie about a random kid picking up a job as a dishwasher. Both names thunk into place during the young chef’s eventual interview at the Culinary Institute of America, a cringe-inducing line of dialogue that feels designed to have normie (as in non-foodie) viewers go, “Ohhh, I get it,” like the Leo pointing meme, when they see the trailer. The trailer, for that matter, does not do the movie justice; it seems unsure of how to appeal to both niche food audiences and the everyman, and therefore lands awkwardly in the middle. 

A scene in which Tony’s love interest takes a picture of him in the kitchen feels similarly forced when you’re aware of that one picture of young Bourdain in a Provincetown kitchen. And while Bourdain did write that oysters tasted “somehow… of the future” in Kitchen Confidential, which was published when he was in his 40s, the line feels smarmier than it should in the context of the movie, in which it seems intended to position Bourdain as a child as a kind of savant, when really, I think the movie intends to portray him as having landed in kitchens more as a result of being an opportunist. Despite the distance Johnson and Sessa perceived themselves having from Bourdain at the project’s outset, it’s clear that there’s still some tension between their positioning and what it feels like audiences need in a Bourdain biopic.

The very concept of a Bourdain biopic is kind of like The Bear in the sense that I think many people in the industry will write it off on its premise. I certainly wouldn’t fault anyone who chooses not to engage with posthumous Bourdain culture grabs, since I, too, thought I was one of them. As with The Bear, those aversions feel valid; there’s too much personal history and too many close-to-home feelings. But what I think works the most about Tony is that it’s grounded in the feelings. 

It’s less a movie about the myth of Bourdain, and more a movie about the relatable arc of knowing who you want to be but not quite knowing how to get there and raging against that. It could be about any cook, any person; it happens to be a movie about someone we all loved.

from Eater https://ift.tt/7CXdK21

A version of this post originally appeared in Eater Today, which spotlights the freshest news and stories from across the food world every day. Subscribe now.

Recently, after I wrote about the tedious nature of making reservations these days, several readers emailed me to express similar feelings and to share their own booking-related gripes. For many of them, these have culminated into the same interaction: Instead of dealing with the whole reservations-platforms rigamarole, they were going old-school for bookings, they told me, by building relationships with general managers and servers in hopes of getting a business card with some information that might offer an easier (or just more direct) in. 

It feels anachronistic, in our modern QR-code, app-for-everything moment, but these are the touchpoints we long for now: a real person, a direct line; the possibility of being seen as a diner with loyalty and even idiosyncrasies, whether it’s a habit of saying “thank you” slightly too much or a tendency to finish a glass of water with astonishing speed, rather than just another faceless name on the backend of a reservations platform.

Of course, in our post-tech world, this kind of olive branch has also gone digital: Those gestures of goodwill and relationship building have been automated. Consider the New York City banchan destination Sunn’s. After I dined there, I found an email in my inbox two weeks later. “Hey ,” said the email.

“I just want to say thanks for checking out Sunn’s,” it read. “Most importantly, I hope you had a nice time, if not, definitely let me know!” The email offered me a discount code for wine delivery from Parcelle (a partner in Sunn’s), and then it dangled a more appealing carrot: the tantalizing promise of exclusivity. We have a text line, the email explained: “If you’re ever unable to find the table you need on Resy, shoot us a text.” (The restaurant is, proving my previous point, now on OpenTable.) It was not the rote, clinical, immediate “restaurant wants your feedback” follow-up that I expect after I dine at a Resy joint, but something with the illusion of being more personal. It was signed “Grant from Parcelle Wine.” As with any listserve blast, the errant space tipped me off that it was not, in fact, actually personalized but automated; still, it seemed more considered. 

Readers telling me about their reservations gripes mentioned receiving similar emails, sometimes including personalized links for booking. “N/naka sent me [an] email [like that] after I’d dined there twice, but there was a gap of at least a couple years between the last time I went and [when I received] the email,” one reader in Los Angeles said. A Michelin-starred restaurant, it’s “famous for keeping careful track of all their diners so I wasn’t totally surprised,” the reader added. They’d gotten a similar one after dining at the more casual yet once very in-demand Pijja Palace.

After dining at Tanta, the Peruvian restaurant in Chicago, a colleague of mine received a similar email thanking her for her visit and offering her a special booking link for the future. Use it, the email promised, and she could get a complimentary chocolate mousse on a future visit. This was not some professional food writer exclusive, but seemingly an offer sent to anyone. Another colleague received a similarly fleshed-out yet clearly automated email after a meal at LA’s Lucia. It also offers a “direct booking link,” though it just goes to the restaurant’s main Resy page. The automation appears to be a feature of SevenRooms, through which Lucia also offers reservations. As with the manager dropping a business card at the table of guests who’d seemed to have an especially good time, the point of all this is to build regulars. 

But while he encourages his managers to give their cards out, “I personally hate business cards,” says Cedric Nicaise of the NYC restaurant the Noortwyck. Often, they end up in the trash, and he thinks many people don’t actually end up using them, especially when they’ve had a good experience over a bad one that needs to be made right. For this reason, Nicaise has employed an AI-powered platform called Loyalist, which integrates with every interface on which a restaurant might find itself — reservations platforms, review platforms, event systems, and point-of-sale systems — and creates a single place through which he and his team can manage guest relationships, doing targeted follow-up. 

While the examples I’ve listed above tend to focus on getting first-time diners to become second-time diners, Loyalist allows the Noortwyck to get hyper-specific. “If someone came for dinner and they were super nice, then we [can] reach out [via email]. But we also get alerts if it’s someone’s like, third visit in a short period of time, or if they give us a really positive review on Google,” Nicaise explains. “The system prompts us to be able to send them an email, and so it’s using technology to further personal connections.” 

For Nicaise, the benefit of Loyalist is that it allows the restaurant’s staff to direct their energy and use it efficiently. It’s not sending an email blast about a new special or a menu change, but a way of showing appreciation and dedicated interest. The platform can, for example, prompt the Noortwyck’s staff that someone bought a cool bottle of wine and therefore might appreciate a personalized note about it. Or, through the platform, managers can identify which guests they met on a given night, then be prompted to send personalized emails to those guests after. Instead of simply casting the broadest net and seeing who it catches, “we want to make sure that people who are [the most] inclined to come back can come back,” Nicaise says.

As the great newsletter boom of the past few years would prove, inboxes are valuable territory. Still, even with all the competition there, an email promises more direct access to potential guests than something as free-range as social media. (It’s perhaps for this reason that Sunn’s has opted for that potentially less crowded field of the iMessage inbox with its additional text line.) 

“The cost of acquiring a new diner is becoming higher than ever,” according to Maggie Tang, who started Loyalist after working in restaurants including Eleven Madison Park. With so many restaurants and the infinite scroll of social media, “someone’s trying to grab a diner’s attention at all times, and restaurants constantly want to fill seats, so I think restaurants are starting to focus more on how to retain existing diners.” 

According to Tang, these personalized follow-up emails can also nudge diners who haven’t come back in a while, and on average, she says, 15 percent of guests who receive those book a reservation within 30 days of getting that email. As much as some restaurants want to be showy occasion spots, many are orienting themselves now around repeatability. Restaurants need regulars; emails, with their technology-enabled veneer of “this manager was just thinking about you,” might help them meet the moment.

The trick at some hard-to-get-into restaurants, I’ve been told, is to make a reservation with the host upon leaving your first meal there. They have access to the books, and the idea is that you’ve earned some goodwill by having already dined. But, if you’re shy or you forget, maybe a personalized email rewarding you for patronage will pop up in your inbox sometime after.

from Eater https://ift.tt/BkTqvEo

Chef Larry Feldmeier, the former chef de cuisine at Chicago’s two-Michelin-starred Oriole, wants to do a little something for everyone. His new restaurant, All Well, opened in April with a five-course prix-fixe menu and a la carte bites served at the bar (including a hefty late-night short rib sandwich). The result is a space that works equally well for a special occasion and to grab a beer after a game. In this episode of Now Open, Feldmeier and co-partner Noah Sandoval (the executive chef at Oriole) walk Eater through a day of food prep and service at the new West Loop spot.

The day starts with making freshly ground sausage for the stuffed quail option in the fourth course. Truffle and mustard are mixed into freshly ground chicken before being piped into two-day dry-aged quails. The birds then dry out a bit more before service. In another section of the kitchen, the team begins basting the short rib sandwich. The steak-sauce coated dish was inspired by Chicago’s recent obsession with high-end burgers — this version is not quite a burger but is just as comforting.

Next is the pasta course, a cheese and potato-filled ravioli in a half-moon shape, traditionally called mezzelune. The pasta are served in a creamy beurre monté sauce with fresh peas. A chicken brodo (rich chicken broth) is served on the side to pour over the pasta, as well as a puffed grain toast slathered with buckwheat butter.

Starting bites for the prix-fixe include a savory sunchoke beignet. The fried, small doughnuts have a truffle and sunchoke custard filling that is frozen and dropped into the batter before they’re fried. Other early bites include foie gras mousse layered in a stroopwafel with rhubarb jam and strawberries, plus a smoked trout tart.

“We wanted to build a place where there’s something for everybody,” Feldmeier says. “We’re not doing things for awards or things like that. As cliche as that is, we’re doing things that we want to do and take pride in.”

Watch the kitchen team at All Well navigate operating a more casual restaurant that is still serving up creative cuisine in this episode of Now Open.

from Eater https://ift.tt/c5JQISH

With its offbeat blend of poutine, pikliz, natural wine, and piri-piri, Montreal is a food city hors pair. You’ll find Italian, Jewish, Vietnamese, Lebanese, Haitian, and, of course, meaty French-leaning restaurants side by side. Add to that our public markets, rooftop greenhouses, urban farms (Montreal is a world capital of urban agriculture), and a surplus of homegrown cooking talent and vibrant immigrant communities. Foodways coalesce, traditions get upheld and upended, and imported techniques are tailored to local flora and fauna. No single influence governs Montreal’s distinct, ever-evolving culinary terrain, and that’s what makes eating here so special.

I’m a life-long Montrealer with only growing excitement for all this city has to eat, and I’ve been curating this map for the past six years. Spanning cuisines, neighborhoods, and price points, it’s a shortlist of must-try spots right now, reflecting some of the newer openings driving conversation, the trends playing out across dining tables and award lists, and the generational icons that complete the city. It can also serve as a primer on local food-speak; lesson one: If you order an “entrée,” you’re getting a starter.

We update this list regularly to make sure it reflects the ever-changing Montreal dining scene. Our write-ups include insider tips, as well as a rough range of pricing for each destination — from $ for quick, inexpensive meals with dishes largely under $10 USD (or the equivalent in Canadian dollars), to $$$$ for places where mains exceed $30.

New to the map in July 2026: Aylwin Deli & Barbecue, a smokin’ two-part operation currently crushing it at Atwater Market; Dobe & Andy, a Chinatown staple upholding generations of barbecue meat legacy; Pichai, my absolute favorite purveyor of Thai spice in the city; and a newer arrival to the scene, Bruce, which has garnered well-deserved attention for Scottish cuisine.

Valerie Silva is a Montreal writer and editor. From 2020 to 2022, she ran Eater’s Montreal site and remains a regular contributor for the publication. Her work has appeared in Bon Appétit, Air Canada’s enRoute, ELLE Canada, Maisonneuve Magazine, and elsewhere, spanning everything from the belugas and beer of the Saguenay Fjord to Hochelaga’s clown culture and the history and high notes of poutine in Montreal. Otherwise, you can find her developing concepts and telling stories for multimedia entertainment studio Moment Factory.

from Eater https://ift.tt/AfoVen3

On Saturday, on the eve of the world soccer finals, Eater hosted a lively celebration of food and sports in New York City, bringing thousands of attendees to Pier 36 to taste their way through cuisines from dozens of countries. Over 30 of NYC’s most in-demand chefs and restaurants — plus visitors from beyond the city — served a diverse sampling of their signature dishes, including banh mi from the East Village’s Bánh Anh Em, burritos from Park Slope’s Vato, slices from Sally’s Apizza and Frank Pepe in New Haven, and many more.

Despite the rainy weather, the vibes were upbeat as attendees, clad in jerseys of their favorite teams, took their shot at scoring goals through an inflatable bottle of Lifeway Kefir and tasted samples of the brand’s probiotic drinks and cheeses. Others posed for photos alongside a giant cup of Maruchan ramen — faux noodles overflowing — and mingled with Seattle chef Shota Nakajima, who provided a ramen trio inspired by Japan, South Korea, and the United States. (Guests could then vote on their favorite in a neck-and-neck competition.)

View this post on Instagram

Diners visiting A Taste of NYC, presented by Square, sampled free bites from Gourmega, the new restaurant from the founders of the Ghetto Gastro collective. From Edible, guests found sweet treats in the form of bites of cheesecake, brownies, and chocolate-covered fruit. Luckily, cute tote bags from Morton Salt were available to carry any extra goods home.

A Taste of Asia, presented by Cathay Pacific, was a travel-inspired section that featured a popular photobooth installation and a live demo with chef Calvin Eng of Brooklyn hotspot Bonnie’s, who prepared Hong Kong-style French toast. Other samples included Filipino beef adobo short rib and Thai massaman duck croquettes. In the VIP lounge, presented by Cathay Pacific, guests tried exclusive bites from Dominique Ansel, South Philly Barbacoa, Jose Andres’s Mercado Little Spain, and Sushi Noz, and sipped drinks (many drinks) at an open bar.

Spritzes and seltzers from S. Pellegrino and Aqua Panna paired perfectly with the wide range of dishes on offer, and the brand’s tastings of caviar bumps and Parmesan offered an elevated experience in the VIP lounge. Refreshing fruit cups and pineapple juice mocktail from Dole helped guests stay cool amid the summer heat; a selection of beers from Manhattan Beer Distributors and cocktails made with Milagro tequila kept the party vibes going. 

It was a festive celebration and a reminder of the communal power of both food and sports — even better when the two come together. The competition may be fierce in global soccer competitions, but everyone was a winner at World’s Fare.

from Eater https://ift.tt/vZoEm6x

British food has long been unfairly maligned as being brown, bread-y, and boring. But stateside, we’ve seen a major shift in attitudes toward British food in the past year or two, with a near-sensational response to new British-inspired restaurants such as Dean’s and Wilde’s. And London’s restaurant scene is vast and ambitious, yet also surprisingly intimate. It draws from culinary traditions all over the world without feeling trend-chasing, celebrates seasonal ingredients with near-religious devotion, and retains a warmth that makes even exceptional restaurants feel disarmingly welcoming. Meals here have a way of stretching into entire evenings, and you’ll want them to. With its centuries-old pubs, world-class Indian food, Italian trattorias and Spanish tapas bars, a growing Southeast Asian scene, neighborhood bistros, and ambitious fine dining, it’s one of the world’s great food cities.

Europe has been sweltering this summer, and I experienced its late June heat wave firsthand when I recently visited a longtime friend (and fellow food writer) living on a houseboat near Tower Bridge. London was pushing triple digits and, in my American opinion, is woefully deficient in air conditioning and ice — but my food itinerary was stacked enough that neither the sauna-like temperatures nor a merciless case of jet lag could stop me from exploring, eating, drinking, and enjoying all the roasted meats, Eton messes, and gin and tonics that London has to offer.

Having a game plan (i.e. a map of recommendations and a roster of reservations) may sound type A, but, in this city, majorly pays off. Because London is enormous and crossing it in 93-degree heat is no small undertaking, I mostly stayed in central and east London. 

I condensed the highlights of a five-day trip into a three-day itinerary that prioritizes long lunches, memorable dinners, and excellent pubs. Consider it my greatest hits. 

---

Day 1

Lunch: Towpath

I landed in London sweaty, jet-lagged, and starving. My first stop was Towpath, a tiny, produce-forward café on Regent’s Canal accessible only by foot or bike with a cult following. My friend Charley and I shared mortadella with cherries, trout with creme fraiche, silky eggplant dip, crunchy chicken salad, and a cooling bowl of mint soft serve. Exactly the lunch I wanted after a transatlantic red-eye.

Drinks: The George

By late afternoon, surviving the overbearing heat and my near-psychedelic level of sleep deprivation demanded a large, cold drink. At the 17th-century pub The George, I drank what may have been the most refreshing (and largest) gin and tonic of my life while pointing a rhinestone-studded portable fan directly at my face. 

Dinner: Brigadiers

I yearned for a delicious Indian meal as soon as possible upon arriving in the city, so I arranged to meet friends at Brigadiers, an upscale Indian sports bar. It’s the more casual cousin of two-Michelin-starred Gymkhana (same restaurant group, along with Ambassadors Clubhouse), and reminded me why London’s Indian restaurants are in a league of their own. We dove into a feast of butter-chicken wings, smoky tandoori lamb chops, prawn biryani, goat vindaloo samosas, chile-paneer lettuce cups, cardamom creme brulee, and green-chile coriander margaritas. Absolute perfection, and they had strong air conditioning; I almost cried. 

Late-night: Cittie of Yorke, Trisha’s, Gerry’s Club, Quo Vadis…

After dinner we wandered into Cittie of Yorke, a vaulted, dark-wood pub that’s existed in some form since the 15th century. Very Harry Potter-core. We popped in for more gin and tonics, then headed to Soho. 

First, there was Trisha’s, a deranged quirky basement jazz club (using that term loosely) in Soho. Within minutes, we’d befriended an Absolutely Fabulous-coded woman in animal print; suddenly, we were doing strawberry-and-cream tequila shots with her before being escorted around Soho by a man known as “John the Hat.” One drink became several. We ended up watching a Broadway-style performance of Britney Spears’ “Toxic” with live violin in the sweltering basement of Gerry’s Club. The night ended with cocktails in the upstairs members club at storied mainstay Quo Vadis. London, I’ve concluded, rewards saying yes.

---

Day 2

Lunch: Tavern

Miraculously, I was not hung over from the previous night’s adventures, but we’ll skip straight to lunch since my breakfast of matcha and yogurt was unremarkable. This airy bistro, housed in an old Victorian building, is a fun, buzzy new addition to Old Street’s restaurant scene. I’d call its cuisine “post-British.” Its succulent, melt-in-your-mouth pork chop was one of the best I’ve had, served with a sharp hit of whole-grain mustard and jus-braised greens. I also loved the chunion (cheese and onion) puff, and the pork and cuttlefish chorizo; the pickleback martini is a more dignified version of the dive-bar throwback. The restaurant, while gorgeously outfitted, was boiling and smoky inside from the live-fire cooking, yet none of us wanted to leave. Heaven is good conversation over a table crowded with delicious things.

Drinks (and snacks): The Seven Stars

The food at this historic Holborn spot is excellent, it’s home to a famously spoiled cat (now second-generation) wearing an Elizabethan ruff, and the cozy dining rooms feel more like a grandmother’s living room than a commercial establishment. I could happily lose an entire rainy afternoon here, drinking cider and sampling dishes from the blackboard menu.

Dinner: Cycene

Cycene was, perhaps, the most memorable meal of my trip. Its tasting menu, from chef Taz Sarhane, feels historical and transportive in spirit and decidedly modern in execution, celebrating aged meats, foraged ingredients, and English terroir with remarkable precision. Many elements are pickled, cured, and fermented. The evening begins at the downstairs bar with cocktails, charcuterie, and a rich broth made with pork feet before moving through the kitchen for a tour of the pleasures to come; then, you’re whisked into a candlelit dining room where tomato-butter-topped scallops, jewel-like duck breast, and breathtaking desserts unfold before you over nearly four hours. Best to go with someone whose company you really enjoy.

---

Day 3

Lunch: St. John

Fergus Henderson’s legendary restaurant remains a house of meat worship and nose-to-tail dining, and also a case study of beauty in restraint: lobster toast, roast bone marrow, Welsh rarebit, braised lamb, and fresh-baked madeleines; adding a gin fizz, glass of wine, or martini feels fitting. We lingered at our long, many-coursed, boozy lunch here for nearly four hours (yes, another four-hour meal), a life-affirming practice that London still seems to encourage.

Drinks: Le Beaujolais

Run by French people, perfumed with bloomy-rind cheeses, and decorated with hundreds of neckties hanging from the ceiling, Le Beaujolais is the sort of place where you can post up and split multiple bottles over delectable fromage and ripped hunks of baguette. I was especially charmed by a framed letter from a regular who once drunkenly stole the restaurant’s enormous wooden table before returning it with an effusive handwritten apology. This is the kind of restaurant lore I live for.

Dinner: Mountain

No restaurant was recommended to me more frequently or enthusiastically than Mountain, the Basque-inspired Soho restaurant from chef Tomos Parry. I started with — and loved — the savory Olive + Almond cocktail — a tequila-and-sherry riff on a dirty martini. An earthy morel mushroom omelet with Spenwood cheese became the table favorite, alongside roasted duck, short ribs, paper-thin cured beef, and a bright, kumquat-studded crudo of pollock and monkfish. No wonder Dua Lipa loves this place.

Late-night drinks: A Bar With Shapes for a Name

We ended the night at A Bar With Shapes for a Name, a conceptual cocktail bar with a moniker to match. The alchemic drinks were worth the wait (even at an ungodly late hour) to get in, especially the Kazimir, made with clarified peach-yogurt vodka, absinthe, saline, and “recomposed” lime. A woman holding a trembling Chihuahua casually divulged trade secrets about a major toy company before disappearing into the night. I love London.

Where I want to go next time: Tatar Bunar, a new Ukrainian bistro with dill gintinis and a “borscht ceremony for two;” Casa Fofò, a seasonally driven restaurant in Hackney with a unique, affordable set-price menu; Cece’s for fun Italian with a side of glamour.

---

Check out more editor-recommended restaurant picks on the Eater App, and follow me for more recommendations from my travels and favorite cities. (Subscribe to our travel newsletter, too!)

from Eater https://ift.tt/wXf4bKW

What spoke to me the most about the Instagram announcement for the new Manhattan restaurant Somssi was the fact that it was done in such an unexpected manner. In the photo, a hand holds a piece of lace against the shiny backdrop of a powder blue car. The lace, custom-made, is about the size of a postcard, bearing the restaurant’s name in looping swirls of white thread, its address and opening date sewn in blockier letters beneath it. Sunlight streams through the lace, casting shadows of the curlicues that border the piece’s scalloped edges. The scene looks tangible, like a moment that really existed. It stopped me in my scroll.

“Somssi” is a Korean word that refers to “a skill or a knack that you polish over time, and has a lot to do with things that you craft with your hands,” explains managing partner Ahris Kim. For Somssi, that sense of the handcrafted continues into the logo, which features the restaurant’s name stitched into cloth, its custom typeface designed to evoke Asian calligraphy. Its curtains are made from old crochet and lace tablecloths, with the one at the front door spelling out the restaurant’s name in cutouts embellished with embroidery (it, too, has been the focus of an Instagram post). Margaret Muza, Kim’s childhood best friend, did the interiors, sourcing vintage glassware and tchotchkes; Muza’s mom made the curtains, using fabric from her own collection built over decades. 

More and more, I’m stopped in my scroll by something that evokes the opposite feeling: a kind of semi-defeated revulsion, which I attribute to the barrage of images that bear the grotesque hallmarks of being AI-generated. They are the opposite of handcrafted, often riddled with errors that only a technology without real human experiences would make: the sandwiches that defy gravity; the cocktails in glasses that cast physically impossible shadows; the flyers for events at restaurants that are so overstuffed and overstylized that they’ve almost come full circle into camp; the fantastical scenes, like a cat holding two tacos, which would be cute if dreamed up by an illustrator but which instead feel cynical and smug in one’s absence.

The backlash to AI imagery is growing across a certain part of the culture. Sentiment along the lines of “I’d rather see a poster made with Sharpie on a scrap of paper than an AI event flyer,” or “I’m not going to your restaurant if the ad is the AI” is proliferating. “Frictionmaxxing,” a term that writer Kathryn Jezer-Morton coined to refer to a rejection of technologies of convenience in favor of slower and more analog processes, has escaped containment, coming to mean the general choice to choose pre-internet ways of creation and problem-solving. In this sense, it can refer to the choice of the handcrafted over the AI-generated. 

And even when not overtly backlash, there is, at the very least, a friction-filled reaction happening culturally in design right now to the sudden dominance of AI. The work of photographer Szilveszter Makó, known for his reliance on “true materials” like absurd physical props and daylight, has swept the fashion scene in recent months. I see a similar ethos echoed in newer visuals from publications like Bon Appétit, which have recently embraced creative elements that make clear physical, real-life effort, like a stop-motion animation featuring wobbly-edge paper cutouts for an article about throwing watch parties. 

I wondered, in the earlier days of AI, if its inevitable abundance would eventually lead to a renewed valorization of the analog, the physical, and the explicitly human-made, and indeed, that seems to have increasingly become reality. Take the New England grocery store chain Market Basket, which recently released a limited edition of its weekly circular that’s entirely hand-illustrated by artist Katie Christensen. It’s meant to call back to the store’s earlier days, when circulars were always drawn by a person. 

Or take Fearless Coffee in Johnson City, Tennessee, which posted a series of images promoting its new menu earlier this summer. “Currently our world is saturated with digital noise and content. AI promos and graphics dominate the landscape,” the shop wrote on Instagram. In hopes of standing out amid the slop, the shop commissioned photographer Jamey Booher for a photoshoot intended to take people “back to a time before [AI] existed,” posing a banana latte, for example, in a scene that evoked late-’90s summer, cassette tapes and all. The gesture (and stance) didn’t go unnoticed, hitting the feeds of people like myself who only know Johnson City from “Wagon Wheel” and becoming, it seems, the shop’s most-liked post ever.

Shinji, a new Japanese restaurant in Toronto, caught my attention through a Reel shared by calligrapher Sylvia Wong, who had been commissioned by the restaurant to hand-engrave its logo onto wine glasses. In her post, Wong acknowledged that while hand-engraving is less efficient than machine-engraving, it was more in line with the restaurant’s ethos on craftsmanship. Frictionmaxxing!

Amid this glut of AI content on Instagram, photos of handwritten menus now fill me with a similar feeling as Somssi’s lace and cloth — something between relief and admiration, a grounding in the realm of the real. Melissa Martin of Mosquito Supper Club in New Orleans has recently shifted how she promotes her restaurant on social media, posting simply taken shots of handwritten paper menus instead of the styled professional photos from her cookbooks. 

After a startlingly slow summer, the posts are a way of reminding people that her restaurant is still open, Martin explained to me in a message, but she also appreciates the task of it. “I like the feeling of handwriting the menu, trimming it down with scissors, taking a picture, and posting,” she says. Even if the handwritten menu is only for Instagram, the process feels “more personal.” Her menus in the restaurant are done on a chalkboard — mostly to cut down on printing costs, but also because of the analog appeal. “I’ve never used AI for anything and I don’t plan on it,” Martin says.

Superiority Burger, in lower Manhattan, has always had a punk irreverence, thanks to its chef and owner Brooks Headley’s background in the hardcore music scene. It sticks to its guns of vegetarianism in a distinctly non-trendy way (even when plant-based diets are falling out of favor), championing the produce of small farms and getting diners stoked on, say, the short-lived window of sprouting cauliflower from Campo Rosso.

In the age of the AI-slop restaurant, I feel even more drawn to Superiority’s DIY approach to something as corporate-tech as Instagram. Often, specials are announced via hand-scrawled notes with a Sharpie on a piece of paper, which is then photographed and shared online. To announce a collaboration between the restaurant and the Queens sandwich shop Salty Lunch Lady’s Little Luncheonette, the two restaurants posted cutout paper letters, wrinkled and haphazard, spelling out the news. 

What might have once seemed like Superiority Burger’s bit of affectation now comes off like a reaffirmation of the restaurant’s values. Someone made this, just as someone made your food, just as someone nurtured the vegetables from seeds. Sometimes, Sharpie on scraps, done quickly and cheaply, says more than an AI-generated image ever could.

At Dean’s, the long-awaited new British restaurant in New York City, the menu is also handwritten. Every week, interim director of operations Tommy Hunt receives the menu updates, then comes in and writes the menu by hand for it to be photocopied. “When we talked about the pubs that we admired most, like our sources of inspiration in the [United Kingdom], there was always a handwritten menu, because it’s a really personal experience,” says co-owner Annie Shi. “[Hunt] has really classic, to me, English handwriting. It’s bold, and it’s between cursive and straight writing.” 

She imagines that, over time, the handwriting might change, but she likes this possibility: a way of tracking the restaurant’s evolution. At Shi’s other restaurant, King, which opened in 2016, the branding appears similarly handmade, with illustrations by artist RF. Alvarez; its logo is a kind of scratchy, squiggly scrawl. For Shi, there’s a tether between these clearly handcrafted visuals and her restaurants’ perspectives on food. Even during the peak of farm-to-table, it’s never been her style to “shout from the rooftops where we’re sourcing,” she says. “But I think there are other ways where you can indicate that this is a personal, craft-driven project, and it’s in those little touches like a handwritten menu.”

None of this is new for restaurants. But in the post-AI world, these markers of real hands behind something appear even more charming: a direct confrontation with what’s taken over. Let’s return to that phrase “somssi,” or skills honed by time. “Anywhere where we could impose a handmade detail, we did,” Kim says. Thus, “even AI-generated work would go against what ‘somssi’ should stand for.”

It’s hard to think of a path of more friction than choosing to run a restaurant; why add even more friction to that? In these conditions, yes, it costs more to hire a photographer to promote your new menu than to generate one with AI, but it’s also increasingly clear that many people would rather see a badly taken, lo-fi photo than an engineered AI image. For one thing, it feels like a reflection of one’s values. To me, a restaurant that employs AI art is capitulating to the culture of slop, akin to reheating premade food from Sysco. It’s impossible to square with a value system that cares about craft and integrity.

from Eater https://ift.tt/9iGrHuk

When I ask a friend for restaurant recommendations, I’m rarely asking for something as cut and dry as the operating hours, dress code intel, or whether it’s cash-only — all of that’s helpful, but also easily searchable. If I’m reaching out to you, I’m looking for some notes with a little more color. “The Thai restaurant is kitsch, (literally) underground, and exactly the kind of place that would impress John Waters” is so much better than “fun atmosphere.” These are the kinds of specific, game-changing details that the Eater team prioritizes in our own restaurant reporting, and which we just integrated into the Eater app. 

There are a lot of new features in the app, from ordering delivery to booking a ride, but the notes feature might be my favorite. When my Eater colleagues dine out, I know that they’re jotting down not just what to order, but whether Bamonte’s is a great place to take your parents when they’re in town (it is). There are also more venues than ever in the app, and when Eater app users leave notes of their own, it signals to our editors that your favorite off-the-grid dive bar or taco stand is a must-try. 

You can download the Eater app and see for yourself, but I wanted to give you a peek at some of my colleagues’ recent notes: 

Thai Diner (New York City)

One of my favorite restaurants of all time. Always fun, always satisfying. My absolute favorites are the chicken liver with roti and the cabbage rolls, but I’ve had most of the menu at this point and it’s all awesome. I finally got the seafood tower for the first time recently and it rules. (The scallop! The quail eggs!) Also one of the best breakfast sandwiches in the whole city imo. – Bettina Makalintal, senior reporter, Eater 

Tiki on 18th (Washington, D.C.)

I miss the chill, divey vibe of The Game, but you can still find many of its Filipino highlights on this menu, like lumpiang and Jo-Jo’s pansit, alongside a strong selection of tiki drinks. One of my go-to spots in Adams Morgan. Menu thoughtfully highlights many gluten-free options. – Missy Frederick, editorial director, Eater  

OyBar (Los Angeles)

Absolutely delightful, low lit haunt that’s as fun and freewheeling for dinner, as it is as a late night stop for (very good) cocktails. The “spicy noods” are elite and the pickle plate is the perfect Japanese-Jewish bento experience. – Hilary Pollack, deputy editor, Eater

Chappie’s (Catskills, NY)

It’s walking distance from the quirky Roxbury Motel (we stayed in the coconut cream pie room) and had excellent fish and chips. – Nadia Chaudhury, deputy dining editor, Eater 

Nodoguro (Portland, OR)

This is a very special occasion-worthy spot. Tucked away in a tower downtown it feels like you are stumbling into one of Portland’s hidden gems. The service is impeccable, the dishes, spread out over 6ish courses, will leave you full, appreciative of the PNW bounty, and in awe of the team’s skills. Don’t skip out of the sake pairing, you will get to taste a range of styles from breweries across Japan. – Kailtin Bray, senior director of audience development, Eater

J.P. Graziano Grocery (Chicago)

An absolute Chicago institution! Get the Mr. G and say hi to Jim, whose family has been running the place for many generations. Don’t skip the giardiniera! – Stephanie Wu, editor-in-chief, Eater

Download the Eater app to learn more. 

---

from Eater https://ift.tt/Ox5GPRh

In this episode of Large Format, Zavala’s Barbecue in Grand Prairie, Texas, handles an influx of 3 million tourists visiting the town for FIFA’s 2026 World Cup by staying open for 30 days straight — a record for the small barbecue operation. With 20,000 pounds of brisket and hundreds of pounds of sausage hitting the grills, the Zavala’s team is busy.

About 200 beef briskets are trimmed, dry-rubbed, and smoked each week. A simple spice rub of salt and pepper helps Zavala’s brisket to stand out. An additional 250 pounds of sausage, all made in house, are put on the grill throughout the day, starting at 4 a.m. When they reach that perfect snappy texture the team soaks the links in ice water. Finally carnitas are grilled for hours before being thrown back in the smoker in a bath of coke and oranges for another three hours until the meat is falling apart.

Owner Joe Zavala says the secret to pulling off a large volume of barbecue — spread out across six smokers — is having everyone on the team be involved in keeping the meats consistent. “Everybody walks by the smoker, they’re looking at the temperature, they’re looking at the fire,” he explains. “So it’s multiple eyes on it to hold all of us accountable, because it’s not just one person, it’s all of us.”

Watch how this barbecue spot is serving up massive amounts of smoked meats, alongside classic Texas hospitality, during the World Cup in this episode of Large Format.

from Eater https://ift.tt/drVcLfT

A week after being nominated for its 18th New York Emmy, Eater has been nominated for a Daytime Emmy. The 2026 nominations, announced on Tuesday, recognize both broadcast and digital shows; Eater was nominated for Outstanding Daytime Short Form Program for its Most-Ordered, a new series that debuted this year.

Most-Ordered spotlights the dishes found on just about every table at a specific restaurant; the pilot episode focused on Lori Jayne, which operates within the bar Danger Danger in Brooklyn and is helmed by chef Sam Braverman. The episode goes all in on Braverman’s steak frites, touching on every stage of the process: butchery, fry preparation, steak butter, sauce (a unique rendition of au poivre), and final assembly.

The popularity of the dish was mirrored by the popularity of the episode, which surpassed 1 million views within three days and inspired viewers to recreate the dish at home (and diners to place so many orders of steak frites at Lori Jayne that they sold out).

This is Eater’s sixth Daytime Emmy nomination, including several in the Short Form Program category. The 53rd annual ceremony takes place in Los Angeles on Friday, October 30.

Watch the Lori Jayne episode of Most-Ordered here:

from Eater https://ift.tt/aw90jko

This episode of Large Format goes inside the dining rush at Arlo Williamsburg, where hundreds of diners stream into the onsite restaurant, Sungold, while guests simultaneously order room service.

Executive chef Michael King chats about how the massive kitchen goes through more than 2,000 eggs a week and constantly churns out big, fluffy pancakes for brunch. In addition to serving nearly 4,000 hotel guests each month, the kitchen also supplies five event spaces and three bars on the property, bringing in another 1,00 guests each week.

“There’s certainly a misconception that in a hotel restaurant the first thing that suffers at that volume is the quality of ingredients and the execution,” King says. “The commitment that we have to ingredients, technique, cooking from scratch lends itself throughout the building and to every plate of food that we put out.”

Prep is a key piece of the puzzle. Managers plan out every bit of time in the kitchen, figuring out what needs to be made in advance for large incoming crowds. Rooftop pool events are common, where Sungold dishes are made into party bites, such as the spicy fried chicken slider.

Across the kitchen, cocktail batching and daily prep for nearly 800 garnishes supports the $8 million beverage operation. Head bartender Armando Aceredo is the mixologist behind some of the hotel’s top-selling cocktails, including the frozen passionfruit margarita.

Watch how a massive NYC hotel manages prep for events, room service, and restaurants in this episode of Large Format.

from Eater https://ift.tt/1sLCRSJ

How long would you wait in line for dessert? For food lovers craving this summer’s TikTok-viral dot cakes, the lines in front of Manhattan’s Butterfield Market have been forming as early as 6 a.m. and lasting for hours. This phenomenon is nothing new to NYC, or any other city home to a viral food moment; Broad City poked fun at internet-viral food trends with its fictional “churron” churro-macaron hybrid (remember when Babish actually brought it to life?) and Saturday Night Live parodied the act of waiting in a big dumb line as a painstaking, inevitable human experience. 

That was before the business of line sitting also blew up on social media. 

“Line sitting” (or “line waiting” and “line standing”) is exactly what it sounds like: the act of being paid to wait in line for someone else’s Broadway tickets, sample sale access, churron, or table at a popular restaurant. According to full-time, professional NYC line waiter Robert Samuel, there’s been more public interest than ever in the unique job. “It’s always been a thing,” Samuel told Eater by phone shortly after wrapping up a line waiting gig, “but I think social media makes it bigger than it used to be. That’s why there’s more people out there doing it. I blame TikTok more than any other platform.” 

Samuel was born and raised in Brooklyn, and established his line waiting business Same Ole Line Dudes after clocking the line-spawning demand for coveted products (the iPhone sparked the first line wait venture for Samuel) and experiences. Now, it’s been nearly 15 years, and his business shows no signs of slowing down. “We currently have about 35 [line waiters] on average that take requests throughout the city,” he says, “and sometimes even beyond, for anything that requires a wait.” 

In his business’s early years, he says Cronuts were the big ticket item. “We had a client who wanted to impress these business people visiting from Japan. They wanted to close a deal with something they’d never seen before, and I guess that was Cronuts. They sent six of our [line sitters] to get a dozen, because you can only buy so many per person at a time.” 

Same Ole Line Dudes charges $25 per hour with a two-hour minimum, and rates can also increase for rush fees (between $15 and $25), holiday rates, inclement weather, and the occasional overnight wait for, say, the croissant cereal from L’Appartement 4F. Samuel says that there’s also been a significant uptick in the “freelance” line standers from sites such as TaskRabbit or Craigslist, and emphasizes that this might not necessarily occur because lines are getting longer (although it also feels that way sometimes), but rather, because social media is bringing both more visibility — and thus, virality — to a larger audience. Recently, a new website went viral for paying people who live by popular restaurants to put up cameras in their windows and livestream lines at hot spots like Golden Diner and L’Industrie in NYC. Waiting-in-line culture is so omnipresent that Los Angeles influencers are making dining guides exclusively and specifically for places with long lines (inversely, there’s also a TikTok account focused on NYC restaurants with no lines).   

On TaskRabbit, a website that connects individuals with freelance “Taskers” who are available to complete tasks like repairing a faucet, delivering furniture, or waiting in line, the going rate for line sitters is listed as “between $28 and $90” per hour nationally. The largest number of line-sitting taskers is in New York City (over 4,900); a search in other major cities such as Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Chicago yielded a couple hundred Taskers per city who marked themselves as either practiced line sitters or folks willing to perform the duty. The reviews for the more experienced sitters reveal a common thread of what the people hiring them are looking for: good communication, timeliness, and the trust that they will handle your dot cake (if need be) with care. 

Los Angeles-based line sitter Korem A. has completed over 84 line waiting tasks on TaskRabbit, including waits for restaurants and pop-ups. “I’ll wait for you like I would for myself,” she writes, “with care and responsibility”; Ahmed H. is a Tasker in San Francisco who, per his bio, has only completed one line-waiting task so far — but he’s also able to commit to more line-waiting tasks within a short two-hour notice. “I am patient, reliable, and always on time,” his profile reads, “I understand that waiting in line can take time and attention.” These taskers have a potential upper hand against a business like Same Ole Line Dudes, which Samuel says generally asks for a few days’ notice. “We can always talk about rush prices, but people also have to understand that we can’t just drop everything to get them that Greek yogurt. We’re also delivering with a [degree] of professionalism, because we’ve been around for a long time.” 

The dot cakes are the hot item right now in NYC. “We had a customer who wanted two [dot cakes] of every flavor,” Samuel says, “so she hired five line sitters.” At $11 per dot cake and $50 (minimum) per line sitter, that’s a significant markup. For food items that might be subject to melt, Samuel’s sitters make a point to notify the client of the ideal time that they should swing by the location to pick up their treats, “although if they want us to bring it to them,” he laughs, “we will deliver it in its altered state.” 

Top restaurant requests for Same Ole Line Dudes include Italian and pizza places like Via Carota, Lucali, and Emilio’s Ballato, but Samuel says that not every restaurant is welcoming of his line sitters. “I don’t want to name any names,” he tells Eater, “but there is a very in-demand steakhouse in the West Village that has been giving us pushback.” It feels like an odd move to Samuel, who sees it as no different from “someone sending their secretary to go put a name down” or “a mom sending her younger, more able-bodied son to put a name down for them for later.” A Lucali staff member told Eater that they now experience a steady mixture of [Same Ole Line Dudes] and line sitters from Craigslist or TaskRabbit. 

When asked about this new influx of line sitters, Samuel doesn’t seem too concerned. However, he does think the advent of delivery platforms diminished his business somewhat over the years. “We used to have a return customer who lived in Harlem, but wanted Adel’s Famous Halal from 6th Avenue, which obviously wasn’t the kind of place you [call in to order]. He scheduled with us every week, until one day he stopped. I wonder if that’s because it’s on Uber Eats.” Even so, Samuel says business always finds a way of picking up. “This is New York, so there’s always something else that pops up in its place.” 

The only downside to Samuel’s lucrative idea is that it has rendered non-monetized line waiting — not professionally, but in life — really annoying. “It’s like asking a doctor to do a surgery for free,” he laughs, “This is my profession. If I’m waiting in a line, I’m getting paid.”  

---

from Eater https://ift.tt/NY2bkiL

You’ll soon be able to watch your favorite Eater videos, from Mise en Place to Smoke Point, on one of the world’s biggest streamers.

Today, Netflix announced partnerships with dozens of digital publishers to bring their videos to their platform; that includes Eater, as well as other food brands like Bon Appétit, Epicurious, Delish, Food & Wine, Tastemade, and Buzzfeed’s Tasty. Other lifestyle video content from the likes of Architectural Digest, Allure, Billboard, Variety, and Harper’s Bazaar will also start streaming on Netflix.

Starting August 3, hundreds of new, recent, and archival Eater videos will be discoverable on the Netflix homepage for audiences in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand. That includes new episodes from current series like the celebrity-filled Let’s Do Lunch and the character-driven Chef’s Day Off, as well as iconic favorites from our back catalog, such as Handmade, Vendors, and Brent Meats World.

“Partnering with Netflix gives Eater’s award-winning video program even more global reach, and brings our storytelling around restaurants and food culture to new audiences,” said Stephen Pelletteri, Eater’s vice president of video. Eater’s video programming has been nominated for and won multiple New York and Daytime Emmys over the years, as well as other prestigious journalism awards.

Eater video remains on all the platforms you already know and love, so keep watching — and check back on August 3 to start streaming Eater on Netflix.

from Eater https://ift.tt/euAiPc0