Do birthdays matter? Not really. But they are, at the very least, an excuse to do something you might not usually do as a middle-aged father of two. On this most recent occasion, my birthday was a reason to drag an assortment of friendship flotsam across the Los Angeles coastline, working our way down through a selection of Southern California beach dive bars. (It also marks the second time I’ve used my assignments for Eater and Punch to rationalize, or maybe subsidize, a birthday bar crawl.) I truly believe that these old, salt-crusted pubs are an essential, last-remaining stronghold of our regional culture, and that they demand both our respect and our money.

This crawl took place on a Saturday in September, filled with drinks and snacks (but mostly bites of bar burgers), working our way from Santa Monica to Manhattan Beach before wandering inland for dinner in Torrance, home to some of the best Japanese food in the United States.

The plan was to start relatively early, enjoying as much sunlit ocean breeze as we could, while also allowing me to get a normal amount of sleep at the end of the night before waking up at traditional dad hours. The great thing about a bar crawl is that it allows people to jump on and off as they see fit. I’m also a sucker for a brisk itinerary, moving quickly from place to place: the key is to not care who shows up when and where, simply telling someone to add the necessary ETAs to the group chat as applicable.

Stop 1: Chez Jay — Santa Monica — 3:25pm

Opened in 1959, and a roughly 8-minute walk from the beach, Chez Jay has remained a staple and a refuge in a city that has been rapidly pricing out old neighborhood bars and restaurants. It is a place to drink a martini or a beer, where the only rules are that you “take no pictures, and throw your peanut shells on the floor.” (I broke one of the rules.) The kitchen was not open yet, but the peanuts were plentiful and the pours were heavy. The red booths and red checkerboard tablecloths evoke an old Italian restaurant, though it is certainly more of a steak-and-seafood kind of place to have dinner. It started strong, with six people showing up, including my dad and stepmom.

Stop 2: Hinano Cafe — Venice Beach — 4:38 p.m.

Hinano Cafe has been operating on a busy stretch of Venice Beach since 1962. This perpetually packed place has become an iconic surfer hang serving beer and burgers (no full liquor license here) — and like a true surfer bar, it serves breakfast from 8 a.m. until noon. Our group swelled with more friends at our second location, where pitchers of beer were poured in a standing-room-only setting, alongside board-short-wearing day drinkers who were far too young and attractive for us to stay any longer than it took for this gaggle of graying dads to order and split a hamburger. At $12.50, this perfectly acceptable bar burger on a sesame seed bun was a pleasant enough edible intermezzo. I’d prefer to come back again at another time, like maybe 1975.

Stop 3: Prince O’ Whales — Playa del Rey — 5:30 p.m.

We had now crossed to the other side of the marina — something of a traffic dividing line in Los Angeles County — and settled into a perfect little three-bar-crawl that exists on a 0.2-mile stretch of this hidden, working-class LA beach community. The sun was starting to drop and the ocean breeze was relaxing our shoulders (although that also may have just been the drinks). We sauntered into Prince O’ Whales, which has been serving drinks under this name for over five decades, with another 18 years before under a different one (“The Bowsprit”). There are two indoor bars, though one was closed for the afternoon. Our bartender was the kind of grumpy you look for in a sailor’s saloon, and the room was crowded with some rather loud folks watching college football. (It turns out I’m getting old.) We took our drinks to the back patio, a serene little patch of cement, brick, faded paint and sun-withered wood. There was also a ping-pong table, and this round was highlighted by exactly the kind of late-summer weather that makes people live by the beach in Southern California.

Stop 4: The Harbor Room — Playa del Rey — 6:01 p.m.

After walking for about 90 seconds, we made it to a place known as “the smallest dive bar in Los Angeles.” It would feel like a California-themed yokocho in Tokyo if it weren’t so perfectly lived in, lined with old wood that feels like you’re drinking in the bowels of a turn-of-the-century vessel crossing the Atlantic. A drunk, nonthreatening stranger joined our group and asked a lot of questions. I ordered a vodka-soda and they gave me a gin and tonic, so I ordered a gin martini. It came with a “sidecar” that was, incredibly, just a rocks glass with a splash of rapidly warming gin in it. I curiously wandered into the adjoining Italian restaurant and was convinced by some very friendly women to order some food. I told them to pick their favorite dish and near the end of my martini, a foil container of steaming hot ravioli was dropped at our table. If my wife divorces me, I could see myself paying rent on one of these barstools, living out my twilight years and wondering where it all went wrong.

Stop 5: The Shack — Playa del Rey — 6:27 p.m.

Looking back at my iPhone photo timestamps, I am incredibly impressed that we were able to have a round of martinis and a plate of ravioli in 26 minutes. We soldiered on, with an even shorter walk to our next location: the classic old surf bar and restaurant, The Shack. It feels almost set-decorated, with the perfect amount of wear and tear. This place was significantly more spacious and we found room at the bar, where we ordered the Shack Burger for all to try, as well as some wings. The signature burger comes, miraculously, with a butterflied Louisiana hot link on it, operating like juicier, snappier, spicier bacon. I, meanwhile, remained impressed with my ability to have five drinks (or was it six?) — a skill that rarely gets tested anymore.

Stop 6: Ercole’s — Manhattan Beach — 7:23 p.m.

Nearing its 100th year of operation (though not always as a bar — it opened during Prohibition), this could easily have been the last stop of the tour, the flagship bar you build a crawl around. Known among my friends as “the best dive bar burger in LA County,” this proud, defiant establishment has stood the test of time, surviving rapidly escalating real estate prices to remain the great neighborhood dive it has always been. It feels like a sacred escape from the rest of this wealthy beach community. The whole place seems to be made of wood and beer signs; there is one line for ordering and another for the bathroom; and every single patron — whether gray-haired in Hawaiian shirts or tatted-up bikers — seems to know how lucky they are to be there. There is a small grill behind the bar in the corner, under a yellow sign proudly proclaiming “no fries.” The cheeseburger is an exercise in simple chargrilled perfection, its meat sourced from the butcher shop next door, all served in a basket with a bag of potato chips. The menu also claims to have a teriyaki chicken sandwich, though I’ve never seen one there. I wished we could have stayed longer, or to have eaten a whole burger instead of just two bites, but such is the nature of a crawl. We quickly made our way out, calling our next restaurant to let them know we were running about 20 minutes late for our reservation.

Stop 7: Torihei — Torrance – sometime not long after 8 p.m.

We did a decent job of snacking rather than eating on our beach dive crawl, so after we settled into a long table adorned with sake and beer, there was perhaps no more comforting bite of food in the world than Torihei’s simmered slab of daikon radish, served in dashi and blanketed in katsuobushi (smoked, dried skipjack tuna flakes). It warmed my chest. This classic standby izakaya specializes in yakitori (grilled chicken skewers) and oden (simmered ingredients in broth). We sipped beers and crunched tender chicken cartilage alongside grilled chicken meatballs before finishing the night with some soborodon (a ground chicken and rice bowl).

I was home, showered, and in bed before 11:15. I think we nailed it.

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This excerpt was originally published in Pre Shift, our newsletter for the hospitality industry. Subscribe for more first-person accounts, advice, and interviews.

Now Open is a yearlong series celebrating some of 2026’s most exciting new restaurants. Throughout the year, we’ll check in with teams in Chicago, New York City, and Washington, D.C., to hear what it’s really like behind the scenes of a buzzy opening. Then, we’ll host exclusive meals at these restaurants as part of Dinner Party, presented by Capital One. Read along for challenges, candid reflections, and advice from the proprietors behind some of the country’s hottest new openings.

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Zubair Mohajir is one of Chicago’s most prolific new chefs and restaurateurs, behind such openings as Lilac Tiger, Mariela, Mirra, Sarima, and most recently, Muhājir, a restaurant that traces historical spice routes to tell the story of global migration. I talked to Mohajir about how the opening is going, how he thinks about collaboration across his different projects, and why Muhājir is finally the restaurant that feels like home. 

Pre Shift: What did you want to explore with Muhājir that you hadn’t been able to do yet with your previous restaurants?

Zubair Mohajir: Muhājir is such a personal story for me, because my last name is Mohajir, and the meaning of “muhājir” in Arabic and Urdu is “one who migrates.” When the partition [of India and Pakistan] happened, the Muslims that were moved from India to Pakistan were named Muhājirs because they were migrated. In my family, we always wondered why that was our last name. When I started cooking [after working in finance], it really started to settle in. Our late maternal grandfather was obsessed with mapping where this family name came from. It comes from Southern Basra, Iraq, and that was so mind-blowing for me because it’s one of the biggest spice roads.

At Coach House for the past five years, I’ve been exploring ancient recipes in southern Spain and southern Portugal. [They] bring in pre-Crusade Muslim, Christian, Jewish [influences] that are also affected by the Southeast Asian traders coming on the spice road that shoots through the Mediterranean and hits North Africa and the Iberian Peninsula. I’m just obsessed with history and it started to become very evident for me that I really wanted to feed people, but with the context of where the food came from. 

At Muhājir, it’s all about riding the spice road that runs from Portugal through the Mediterranean, through the Levantine [region], and then hits out of Basra, Iraq, into the Persian Gulf, and the first landmass it comes across is southern India, where I’m from. We’re all muhājirs — you know, all of our families came from somewhere, and that really has been the driving force for me. 

Why did you decide to build the restaurant around live fire?

I’d never cooked on live fire, but we’re cooks, and it was going back to core things. I remember growing up in my grandmother’s house back home in India, and it’s not like there were gas stoves everywhere. When I decided that I was going to do Muhājir, it became so obvious to me that it couldn’t just be a sauté pan on a stove. The story that we wanted to tell had to be told through wood fire.

Is there a dish that feels especially representative of Muhājir?

We do a duck that is inspired by a 927-year-old recipe we found from southern Spain that is influenced by Roman garums, Muslim origins, and Jewish origins. We do this duck “experience,” where we take a whole duck, butcher it, and have the crown dry-aging for seven days. We take the wings and make a jus [and] take the legs and make a confit. We blast that duck crown over the fire when we start service every day, and then it gets finished in the brasa. If you’re sitting in the restaurant, you can see the ducks hanging over the fire. 

When we present it, we have this beautiful ornate Turkish platter. There’s black raspberry achaar, the duck jus in a saucier, the duck rice next to it, the duck skin cut in these beautiful medallions on top almost like duck chicharrón, and then we’re also presenting the duck breast itself that has a very crispy skin. The top of that duck breast is the spice mix from that exact recipe that’s more than 900 years old, with cumin, coriander, cardamom, toasted pine nuts, red wine vinegar, and fish sauce. It’s a story of cross-cultural collaboration.

You have a bar called Bobo behind the restaurant. How do the two spaces complement each other?

Bobo’s really inspired by Jacob Dela Cruz, who’s my partner here. We built Sarima together, and it became very important to me to highlight his upbringing and his background as well. He was one who said, “You should name the restaurant Muhājir.” His point was that we’re all immigrants. I was like, “That’s such a simple statement, but such a profound statement.” It was kind of vice versa when we were talking about the bar: Jacob’s father is an amazing person and his name is Bho, and “bobo” in Tagalog means “silly” or “stupid,” as a term of endearment. We always say that as Spice Road-driven and transformative the food experience at Muhājir is, we still like to have fun. 

If people are early for their reservation, we take them back to Bobo, or they stop by after dinner. You can’t get to Bobo without walking through the restaurant, so the spaces contribute to each other. If you came to Bobo, you might be like, “I want to eat there.” And if you come straight to Muhājir and see people walking back constantly, you might be like, “What’s happening back there?” 

What has it been like to run Muhājir so far?

I wouldn’t say it’s easier [than my other restaurants], but now I don’t freak out. I’ve created a methodical way of approaching issues or problems head-on and figuring it out as a group or with the people that support us. We don’t have investors who are private equity firms; our investors are our guests. When it comes to managing expectations and navigating obstacles, you get better with repetition. 

I’m living a dream. Sometimes, when you’re building restaurants with others, you’re not necessarily in the kitchen. [At Mirra, I] was like, “I’m helping create and build this concept, but that’s [chef Rishi Kumar’s] kitchen to run.” Here, it’s the home that I’ve been yearning for and working toward my whole career. I plan to be old in this place. Things have been so crazy and wild and amazing, but slowly, every day, I sit more and more in that moment where I’m like, “This is home.”

This interview has been edited and condensed.

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Roman cuisine is a reflection of the city itself — layered, deeply rooted in tradition, and full of contrasts. After years of eating my way through Rome, I’ve found the best meals are shaped as much by history as the hands that prepare them. Family-run trattorias have served the city’s defining dishes for generations: cacio e pepe, carbonara, roasted lamb, and offal-based specialties, many of which trace their origins to Rome’s historic slaughterhouse economy. While these places remain essential, a wave of neo-trattorias constantly reinterprets the classics, and the broader dining scene continues to shift too. The influence of Rome’s immigrant communities and cuisines, from Ethiopian to Venezuelan, is stronger than ever.

Rome in February and March can feel like a damp intermission which pivots quickly toward spring. One day you’re ducking into bars to escape the downpour and the next you’re scanning patios for a table in the sun. If recent years are any indication, high season now revs up well before Holy Week, and by late March the city is already moving at full tilt. This is the narrow stretch to lean into artichokes simmered with the first peas, favas, and lettuce into vignarola, Rome’s definitive spring stew. Blink and you’ll miss it.

Eating and drinking well in Rome isn’t just about knowing where to go; it’s about knowing how to navigate the city’s idiosyncratic dining culture. Travelers often book tables months in advance, making last-minute reservations tough. While online booking is becoming more common, many places still rely on the phone, and it’s best to call at the very start or very end of service, when the staff actually has time to pick up. Plan ahead — but leave some room for spontaneity too.

We update this list regularly to make sure it reflects the ever-changing dining scene in Rome. Our write-ups include insider tips from our experienced writers and editors, as well as a rough range of pricing for each destination — ranging from $ for quick, inexpensive meals with dishes largely under $10 (or the equivalent in euros), to $$$$ for places where entrees exceed $30.

New to the map in October 2026: In San Giovanni, Beppe e I Suoi Formaggi has moved beyond its former Ghetto shop, with a larger space where Beppe Giovale’s selection of Italian and French cheeses shares the table with dishes like tajarin with alpine butter. Near the Pyramid of Gaius Cestius, third-generation family-run Taverna Cestia serves Roman classics, seafood, and wood-fired pizza alongside a thoughtful wine list. In Prati-adjacent Della Vittoria, Vetro pairs natural wines with small plates that borrow freely from Roman and wider European traditions, making it as appealing for dinner as for a drink.

Katie Parla is a Rome-based food and beverage journalist, culinary guide, and New York Times best-selling cookbook author. Her latest cookbook, Rome, is available now.

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Restaurants in Tokyo are known for shokunin, the people who focus on a single skill to the point of obsession. These chefs dedicate their lives to the smallest details of a cuisine: the optimal temperature for the oil when frying tempura, the perfect texture for sushi rice, the ideal sear on grilled unagi. This long-term commitment separates Tokyo from the other great dining cities in the world, and it has fostered a lot of continuity in the restaurant scene; some of the earliest restaurants in Tokyo also served sushi, tempura, and unagi, along with soba, sukiyaki, and other specialties still represented in restaurants today. Though Tokyo is infamous for a few highly regarded spots that are impossible to get into without an introduction by a regular, visitors will find more than enough to love across the massive dining metropolis.

We update this list quarterly to make sure it reflects the ever-changing Tokyo dining scene. Our write-ups include insider tips from our experienced writers and editors, as well as a rough range of pricing for each destination — ranging from $ for quick, inexpensive meals with dishes largely under $10 (or the equivalent in yen), to $$$$ for places where entrees exceed $30.

New to the map in October 2026: The tea master at Chokeikyo offers traditional, modern, and even cocktail options. The handroll sushi bar reaches new heights thanks to legendary nori from the revered shop Yamamoto Noriten. The baton has been passed to a new chef at Sezanne and it continues to shine. Finally, yet another pizza spot at Bulgari Bar for a metropolis spoiled with top pizzerias.

Yukari Sakamoto is the author of Food Sake Tokyo and offers guided tours to markets in Tokyo. She is a graduate of the French Culinary Institute, a sommelier, and a shochu advisor.

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I’ve always considered fall the true annual reset, if not the soft launch of the upcoming holiday season. I know, I know — we’re still in the month of October, and actively shopping for Jack O’Lanterns. My Instagram ads, however, have already started overflowing with advent calendars and early-bird holiday deals for food-lovers. As an overplanner and Eater’s dedicated town crier for all things shopping-related, I’m actually very here for it. At this big age, I like to get as much done ahead of time to give the cool people in my life equally cool presents that feel thoughtful and curated. (Also, my mother has received enough “coupon books for free hugs” in her lifetime. Now, it’s time to shower her with Japanese A5 Wagyu ribeye steaks and holiday drops from Le Creuset.)    

In many ways, the work of putting together this particular gift guide is easy [clears throat in Ratatouille], because it’s simply about finding the stuff that’s worth shopping ahead for — the tools that will last, pantry finds that will dazzle, and aesthetic air fryers. Consider the following a lovingly curated holiday cheat sheet to the coolest gifts for food-lovers that are sure to sell out fast.

The epic advent calendars have landed

Last week, we rounded up the best food- and drink-themed advent calendars of the year, from luxurious, detailed boxes of artisanal chocolates to mini-jam-jar-filled calendars by Bonne Maman. Keep in mind that these stunners often sell out quickly, and sometimes give giftees a sneak peek at soon-to-be-released products (as is the case with Fly By Jing’s 2026 calendar).

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For the dirty martini loyalist

Ultimate shoppy-shop Big Night has curated a very cool selection of gift boxes for food- and drink-lovers, including the Dirty Martini Box. Inside the cheery coffret, you’ll find a set of martini glasses by Sophie Lou Jacobsen and a jar of Spanish olives from Quincy, which packages its pitted olives in barrel-strength, dirty martini-worthy brine (our editors are obsessed).

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An unexpected and delightful launch from Fishwife (no, it’s not fish)

Fishwife has solidified its place as the queen of the cool tinned seafood brands thanks to its ever-growing, stylishly packaged smorgasbord of ethically sourced seafood. If you really love someone who has a passion for clams and/or a dedicated tinned fish fork, consider spoiling them with this cool, albeit unexpected launch from Fishwife: reusable eye masks. Yes, the good fish folks have partnered with Dieux, a Brooklyn-based skincare company centered around sustainability and high quality products on a pair of lightweight, reusable eye patches. Simply apply your favorite under-eye serum to the two fish-shaped patches (designed by Fishwife’s longtime illustrator, Danny Miller), let them chill under your eyes to depuff, rinse, and store in your collectible tin.

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Date me

Gato’s loaded dates taste just as sumptuous as truffles, and while its classic lineup includes must-trys such as almond and pistachio butter, it just dropped a limited-edition drop with maple pecan crunch and honey from Ojai Roots, a regenerative farm shop from the scenic SoCal city.

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The Platonic ideal of panettone

Originally founded in Arzignano, Italy, in 1882, Olivieri 1882’s panettones and pandoros always dazzle (and sell out) during the holiday season. If you pull up with one of the heritage bakery’s triple chocolate panettones or the signature dramatic, powdered sugar-dusted pandoro to your in-laws’ house, it’s safe to say that you will have won the holidays.

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For the home cook looking for a little pizzazz

L’Isolina’s Spaghetti Dust sells out so quickly and frequently that it has become something of a grail item for online shoppers (I speak from personal experience). This groovy, graphic tube is essentially an at-the-ready aglio olio e peperoncino blend, as L’Isolina explains: “Just add to your drained, al dente pasta with 1/3 cup of great extra virgin olive oil, toss and serve!” 

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Flamingo Estate’s princess-cake-scented set

The posh au natural Los Angeles lifestyle brand Flamingo Estate has a reputation for making limited-edition candles that smell good enough to eat. Last year’s standout scent belonged to the prinsesstårta candle, which captures the not-too-sweet aroma of the marzipan-topped cake from Sant Ambroeus. Flamingo Estate also launched a Prinsesstårta fragrance oil, and has bundled it together with the candle as part of an elegant gift set (I also challenge you to find a chicer gift box than those at Flamingo Estate).

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For the smashburger aficionado 

Smashburgers are here to stay. The thin and crispy patties have permeated restaurant menus across the country for years — so much so, that there’s even smashburger-ready cast-iron press from Caraway that comes in a bunch of fun colors (and will look great hanging from a pot rack).

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An extra-special olive oil flight

Olive oil brands are more personality-forward than ever, and while I love my non-aesthetic jug of Pompeiian EVOO as much as my yassified Graza squeeze-tip bottles, it is truly hard to go wrong with the gift of Brightland’s glass-bottled olive and balsamic oils. The company partnered with New York City lifestyle brand Hill House on a duo of some of its best-selling olive oils, the Awake EVOO (vivid and peppery) and Ardor Chili Olive Oil (sultry and slow burning), all dressed up in Hill House’s seasonal Poppy Damask print.

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A Hanukkah gift for the ultimate chocolate lover

These vegan dark chocolate-covered squares of matzo are the brainchild of luxury Los Angeles chocolatier Compartés, which specializes in especially creative, small-batch confections, so you know it will taste as delicious as it looks. (Plus, you can request a gluten-free option as well.)

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Maison Balzac’s holiday wrapping (and a new dishware collection) is here

If there’s one thing my stylish and emotionally withholding grandmother taught me, it’s that your gift is only as good as its presentation. Maison Balzac makes a spectrum of surreal, whimsical French-inspired home goods and tableware collections, and it just launched its playful holiday packaging for presenting them with flair. The new Pomponette collection is perfect for the holiday season. “[It] invites the breakfast table to play dress-up,” the site explains, “teapots wear crowns, handles bloom into soft constellations, and porcelain begins to whisper.”

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For the MoMA Design Store nerd, a postmodern pancake maker

Leave it to the MoMA Design Store to give us a postmodern pancake-batter machine. Melt away all the stress of drips, spills, and unevenly mixed batter with the Design Store-exclusive Bodum gadget, which also functions as a mixing bowl (with built in whisks at the handle) and measuring cup.

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When Chateau Royale opened in New York City last year, it embodied the city’s rising “swankstaurant” moment, in which the saturation of the steakhouse gave rise to “a new age of gloss,” per Grub Street’s Matthew Schneier. At Chateau Royale, a single-bite beggar’s purse of caviar and crème fraîche went for $39. A $72 lobster thermidor and $90 Dover sole anchored the entrees. The $24 martinis were made tableside on a trolley. At its opening, co-owner Cody Pruitt described the restaurant as “familiarity, just with a little bit more of a tuxedo on it.” 

That restaurant is no longer, though, replaced in August by Floradora, a drastically different concept from the same ownership. This reincarnation is more like jeans-and-a-T-shirt familiar: mozzarella sticks, $17; pull-apart garlic bread, $7; vodka sauce pasta, $25. Here, the steak frites au poivre run $49, significantly less than Chateau’s $69 rendition. At Floradora, it uses bavette as opposed to the latter’s filet mignon, but the argument is that filet is for an occasion, and Floradora is meant to be not just for any night, but many nights. It’s “everyday luxury,” Pruitt says, which, to him, is about “generosity, ease, and feeling welcome.” There are still tableside martinis — the custom cart was an investment, after all — but the prices have dropped, since each table’s server now pours the martini, as opposed to an attendant who manned only the cart. 

Over the past few months, Pruitt and his business partner Jacob Cohen have done two shake-ups like this, in an almost too-on-the-nose manifestation of the current economic climate. In June, they replaced their French bistro Libertine, where duck for two clocked in at $72 in 2023, with Capitaine, where — excluding the caviar and seafood towers — the highest-priced item on the menu is the $52 steak frites. Most dishes are under $30, with more snacks on the menu to allow diners lower-key ways of stopping in — there are only so many special occasion spots a city can sustain. 

“At a certain point, the world around both [restaurants] began to change,” Pruitt says. “We were increasingly conscious of what a restaurant costs people and how often they could use it.” There is a difference, he notes, between a restaurant that belongs to a neighborhood and one that merely takes up space in it. 

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The accepted logic across these years of rampant inflation has been, however bleak, that once prices hit a certain point, they won’t go back down again. Receipts from 2021 inspire shock at how much further money went just a few years ago. A $30 burger at a nice restaurant has gone from spectacle to surprisingly common. The $20 cocktail paved the way for the $24 one, and given this escape velocity, the $30+ drinks now on menus were simply inevitable. Every month brings some new absurdity — $60 bread, $40 half-chickens — that makes people wonder: Who is even buying this? Prices can only go so high before diners start to drop out of the whole endeavor, and restaurants, however counterintuitively, begin to price themselves out of existence. 

For the owners of some high-end restaurants, the current economic landscape has led to an existential pondering. Does everyone really want near-$100 shareable mains, especially on the average weeknight? What’s the point of the luxurious, glitzy restaurant to which many diners might go only once or twice? 

In a reassessment similar to Pruitt and Cohen’s, some operators across the country have been taking the same action: flipping their higher-end restaurants to more affordable models that they hope will be more sustainable — that’s both for diners and for themselves. If the steakhouses and swankstaurants of 2025 represented, at best, a display of status aspirations (and, at worst, the growing economic stratification of American society), the flipped restaurants of 2026 represent a necessary reckoning with reality, in which our collective foundations feel more unstable than ever. 

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Some high-end restaurants in Los Angeles — where even bars are now lowering prices — have come to the same conclusion. When Anthony Wang’s Firstborn and Mei Lin’s 88 Club opened in short succession in the spring of 2025, the two restaurants represented an exciting moment for upscale and innovative diasporic Chinese food in the city. At Firstborn, Wang took cues from twice-cooked pork with a barbecued cabbage that took two days to make, slow-roasting cabbage until its leaves turned tender, then pressing them terrine-like with confit leeks and serving it in broiled slices with a sauce of burnt alliums and black vinegar. It went for $22. At 88 Club, Lin served a fancy shrimp toast, sliced into three teatime-esque pieces, dolloped with hot mustard on one side and sweet-and-sour sauce on the other. Its going rate: $38.

At the time of 88 Club’s opening, Lin cited some concern about the viability of a high-end restaurant amid the economic climate. The combination of wildfires, immigration raids, and the writers strike (and its ripple effects across the entertainment industry) in recent years have pummeled the city’s restaurant industry, leading to constant, heartbreaking closures. Perhaps for this reason, the two restaurants remain oddly synchronized: This year, both flipped into pointedly more accessible formats.

In February, Firstborn announced that it would be scrapping its a la carte menu in favor of a four-course prix fixe, priced at $68 per person. In the original model, check averages were dwindling and becoming unpredictable. While the previous menu of shareable dishes sometimes left diners unsure of how to structure a meal, the restaurant’s current goal is to “get a full meal in front of you and just tell you what it costs,” says Wang. Given that the $100-ish tasting menu is now considered a deal in many cities, $68 per person felt like a “manageable” number that communicated that “this is a value-driven restaurant,” Wang says. 

Operationally, there have been some benefits to the flip at Firstborn. With just three options available for each course, the restaurant can put more unconventional products such as sweetbreads or lamb neck on the menu with some certainty that they’ll sell. (The restaurant’s popular fried chicken and mapo tofu with sweetbreads remain available as supplements.) In the kitchen, prep can be more focused since cooks are doing fewer things, though more of each. Turn times have also become more predictable.

88 Club has seen slightly more upheaval. In April, Lin stepped away from the restaurant, leaving it to former business partner Francis Miranda. Last month, Miranda flipped the concept into Tiger Tiger, where under the direction of chef Michael Chih, $36 black pepper filet mignon and $30 char siu take the place of $125 black pepper strip steak featuring Westholme wagyu and $88 char siu using Ibérico pork. 

With its small menu and its no-substitutions approach, 88 Club was “honestly just way too expensive,” Miranda says. The check average for two people without alcohol was $250 on the low end; add drinks, and it was closer to $400. “It really became a place where you would come to say you’ve come once, and then you wouldn’t come again,” Miranda says. At Tiger Tiger, the goal is for the check average to be in the range of $60 to $80 per person. Right now, diners care less about buzzwords signifying high-end ingredients and more about whether the portion sizes will allow for leftovers. 88 Club’s approach was “chef-driven,” Miranda says. “Now, it’s really guest-driven.”

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If Tail Up Goat, the Michelin-starred restaurant in Washington, D.C., had continued as it was, “we would have limped to the end of our lease,” says Jill Tyler, who opened it in 2016 with her husband, chef Jon Sybert. That’s not to say that the restaurant — which alternated its format between a la carte and tasting menu, the latter priced at $135 per person by the end — didn’t have its wins. 2019 and the start of 2020 were its busiest years ever. But after the pandemic, “the pieces never fit back together,” Tyler says. By the time Tail Up Goat closed in late 2025, they’d “essentially been running a nonprofit for five years.” While cutting benefits might have made the restaurant profitable, that wasn’t the business Tyler and Sybert wanted to run. 

At the suggestion of Arjav Ezekiel, who runs Birdie’s in Austin, Texas, the couple considered a different model: counter service. Tyler was initially skeptical of the concept, having only seen it employed in D.C. at restaurants much more casual than the one she wanted to run, but the math made sense. The couple flipped the space into Rye Bunny, which opened in April. It offers dishes as thoughtful as at Tail Up Goat — ricotta cavatelli with grilled cabbage and smoked onion cream; arctic char a la plancha paired with mustard beurre blanc — but in a different format. Without table service, Tyler and Sybert have cut their staffing needs by 22 percent and their labor costs by 30 percent, while still providing the benefits they found essential, such as healthcare and a week of PTO for all full-timers. Over half the workers previously worked at Tail Up Goat. 

The price of the food at Rye Bunny might still run counter to some diners’ expectations. Pasta is $28 and large proteins hover between $30 and $50, though Tyler’s goal is for all of its pricing to come with an “impressive” amount of food. “[We want people to think], Wow, that felt like a value,” she says. Unlike the structure of Tail Up Goat, the looser Rye Bunny, which doesn’t take reservations, gives diners more control over how much they might spend. “By no means are we an inexpensive night out,” Tyler says. “But we’re trying to responsibly occupy the middle [of the dining spectrum].” 

While the challenges of running a restaurant remain, some of the pressure has eased over Rye Bunny’s short time in business. They’re making their loan payments without worries about what payroll looks like in six weeks. “I can’t imagine having done anything else now that we’re in it,” Tyler says. Towards the end of Tail Up Goat, even staying in restaurants felt tenuous. Right now, Tyler says, the main feeling is fun: “It’s been freeing to totally reset.” To her, Sybert’s cooking feels imbued with new energy; Rye Bunny’s format allows him to still put dishes he’s excited about on the menu on a whim, like a beef rib special of which only six might be available in a given night.

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That freedom of approach is not necessarily a universal feeling. For 88 Club, the trade-off of the flip into Tiger Tiger has been, most notably, a loss of ambition. The menu is made up of familiar favorites available at most Chinese restaurants: chow mein, dan dan noodles, salt and pepper shrimp; their execution isn’t intended to push the envelope. It’s comfort, and comfort food is common. “To me, that is the formula for what actually survives these crazy times that we’re in,” Miranda says. He’s seen many peers close, either unwilling to change their highbrow concepts or unable to modify their pricing by virtue of their expensive buildouts.

Dialing back ambition can have some silver linings. Lowering expectations via dishes that sound run-of-the-mill creates the opportunity for chefs to over-deliver in their execution. And when the dishes on a menu seem affordable and not immediately like the restaurant is trying to take diners for a ride, diners might be inclined to order an extra dish they might not have tried otherwise, or to get a glass of wine when they might have previously written drinks off as a needless expense. A sense of generosity on the restaurant’s end can beget a similar generosity from guests. Now, value feels like the utmost form of hospitality.

With a somewhat wistful nature, Miranda mentions Nightshade, the creative and universally beloved restaurant that he and Mei Lin opened in 2018. It became a pandemic casualty, its premature closure prompting people who’d dined there to still speak with reverence of its mapo tofu lasagna, tom yum bloomin’ onion, and playful cocktails. “We’re living in different culinary times and different political times,” Miranda says. Running a restaurant, especially at this moment, requires shaking off some sentimentality in favor of clear-eyed practicality. “Right now, it’s not a matter of any feelings,” he says. “It’s adapt or you will close.”

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Chefs Zubair Mohajir and Jacob Dela Cruz debuted a new restaurant that explores culinary cultures across Europe, the Middle East, and Southeast Asia this summer. Muhājir opened with a wood-fired menu that’s meant to be shared, an exciting change of pace for Mohajir and Dela Cruz whose previous ventures focused on tasting menus. The pair walk Eater through a day of food prep and service at the new Lincoln Park spot.

Prep starts with breaking down a rare halal duck for the Duck Numidian dish, a 920-year-old recipe from southern Spain that they’ve been workshopping for years. The duck wings and neck are cooked down for the duck jus on the side, while the duck legs will become a confit folded into duck rice alongside the dry-aged duck breasts. The breasts hang over the fire right before service, before they are finished in the oven. Dips and shattas from around the world, using ingredients that range from cream cheese to fava beans, are served alongside papadam and roasted focaccia as a starter.

The hearth and oven are central to the Muhājir kitchen, which uses a combination of oak wood, olive wood, and coal to get that perfect smoky flavor. Before branzinos hit the grill, the whole fish are broken down and every bone is carefully removed. The branzinos spent a few days in the fridge so the skin will crisp up as soon as the fish hits the fire. The finished fish is laid on top of a rich walnut, yogurt, and coriander sauce and then topped off with a relish to lend some acid.

Next up is the Beef Cheek Nihari, a Pakistani dish made with halal wagyu beef that is covered in toasted and ground cinnamon, black pepper, coriander, cumin, clove, and cardamom. The beef is roasted on high heat before being braised in its own fat for 14 hours. The same spices are mixed into a jus that the beef is cooked in, and the ornate clay pot that its cooked in is set on the table to serve. Next are saffron rice dumplings, called faraa, made in-house and treated like a pasta served with vegetables and a cream sauce.

Watch the kitchen team at Muhājir cook everything from whole fish to beef cheeks over a huge fire in this episode of Now Open.

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During the holiday season, most of us are so focused on buying gifts for other people that we don’t spend enough time treating ourselves. An advent calendar is an especially festive way to surprise yourself with something nice each of the anticipatory days leading up to Christmas, and it’s even better when you get to enjoy lots of fun little edible and drinkable trinkets.

Sure, it’s only October, but if you want a really great 2026 advent calendar, we highly advise smashing that order (or pre-order) button right now. Not only do many of the most popular advent calendars sell out quickly (i.e. well before December), but early bird shoppers can sometimes find great discounts from chocolatiers, coffee companies, and beyond, offering daily treats that are far more exciting than waxy drugstore chocolate.

While advent calendars have been around since the 19th century, their popularity and ingenuity (and their especially luxurious side) has exploded in recent years (where was my Japanese Kit Kat-filled advent calendar as a kid?). With that popularity has come a dizzying array of new advent calendars for food-lovers. Here are a few of our favorites for 2026.

This sculptural French advent calendar

The advent calendar from this French chocolatier is visually stunning thanks to its 3-D packaging that boasts an equally compelling assortment of treats within. Inside, you’ll find an assortment of the brand’s beloved chocolates, plus a limited-edition holiday bonbon made with candied orange, holiday spices, and milk chocolate. Plus, you can hang it up, giving it a very cool decorative element.

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If your giftee loves Nordic folklore 

There are a lot of luxury chocolatiers out there, but Dandelion Chocolate takes special care to soliloquize even the most minute details, inspirations, and flavor notes in its chocolates, especially when it comes to its 2026 advent calendar. This beauty is filled with delights inspired by Nordic folklore from various chocolatiers, with each bonbon presented in an individual keepsake box that can hang like an ornament. To add to the whimsy, Dandelion also includes a book of folktales inspired by Nordic mythology, and a keepsake cut-out paper star to hang in your window during the frosty winter nights, per Nordic tradition. 

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‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ takes advent calendar form

In a departure from the more traditional rectangular advent calendars, this 24-day Oliviers & Co. calendar unfolds to reveal a European street corner flanked by an olive tree. Each of the louver-style doors is filled with a gourmet selection of truffles, jams, oils, and vinegars, making it the perfect calendar for the person with the not-too-sweet sweet tooth.

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You’ll want to save every mini jam jar from the Bonne Maman calendar

Classic French jam company Bonne Maman’s advent calendar is a perennial favorite, and for good reason. It’s reasonably priced, and packed with 24 miniature glass jars featuring different (and, in some cases, rare) holiday flavors of the brand’s beloved jams, jellies, and preserves, plus one-offs like caramel with salted butter and raspberry with dark chocolate. Bonus: You get to reuse all those adorably tiny jars all year long. 

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For the cheese-lover in your life 

Instead of getting yet another chocolate-filled advent calendar, why not go for cheese? This 12-day calendar from beloved NYC cheese purveyor Murray’s is packed with Manchego from Spain’s La Mancha region, a wine-washed wedge, truffle cheddar, and even some jams and crackers. Enjoy a bite each day starting on December 12, then prepare a stunning Christmas Day smorgasbord with all the cheeses. 

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A luxurious calendar of teas  

Amid the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, this 24-day advent calendar from Palais des Thés is packed with teas that will encourage you to take a moment and relax all December long. Inside the hand-stitched cotton packages you’ll find signature blends, single estate and herbal teas, along with 2026 seasonal blends such as the limited-edition Céleste tea, a 2026 organic blend of green tea, vanilla, and chestnut. And if your giftee runs caffeine-free (congratulations to them), there’s also a completely caffeine-free tea advent calendar option.

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This cozy Walker’s Shortbread calendar

The advent calendar from Walker’s Shortbread also sells out fast, as a delicious and affordable option for folks seeking a calendar outside of the traditional scope of chocolate. This year’s edition depicts Santa tiptoeing across a rooftop towards a shortbread chimney, about to enter a wonderland of 24 different treats from the 128-year-old cookie company. Expect all of Walker’s shortbread classics in festive shapes, as well as some chocolate chip and caramel flavors.

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The grand cacao lodge calendar

For the serious yet whimsical chocolate advent calendar enthusiast, this offering from Vosges is an ideal holiday splurge. The calendar itself is a detailed depiction of a mountain lodge, complete with depictions of a roaring fireplace and cheery woodland critters. Inside the calendar, says the site, you’ll find a “little dark and a little milk. Chewy caramels and a bit of toffee. A handful of favorites alongside a collection of brand-new creations.”  

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Turn up the heat with Fly By Jing’s calendar

Not really a fan of sweets? This collection from Fly By Jing includes 12 different savory sauces, spices, and other pantry staples, including a few surprises. You can likely expect the brand’s famed chile crisp, along with hard-to-find spices and even some never-before launched sauces, all of which are packed in small jars that are perfect if you’re going to be flying home during the holidays and need something to spice up your in-laws’ cooking. Don’t wait to order this one — last year’s calendar sold out by November.  

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For the aspiring bartender

Straightaway Cocktails is a favorite of Eater and Punch audience development director Kaitlin Bray, who says that the “Flora Green amaro is the best green Chartreuse substitute I’ve had.” The company’s advent calendar is filled with a dozen of its pre-made cocktails, such as the Bee’s Knees, Oregon Old Fashioned, Margarita, Blanco Margarita, and more.

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Swedish candy is big right now

It feels like everywhere we look, there’s a new Swedish candy store popping up (positive). Williams Sonoma has tapped into the Swedish gummy trend with a delectable 12 day advent calendar of Swedish-style candies such as strawberry-pomegranate bubs, Rambo rainbows, and more Scandinavian delights.

A medieval kingdom of bonbons

Los Angeles chocolatier Compartés has three whimsical advent calendars up for grabs this season. Each calendar has its own theme, and while the Winter Forest and Nutcracker editions are stunners, there’s just something about the Enchanted Castle version that’s pulling my focus given the current cultural wave of medieval revival. What’s not to love about a miniature realm that houses 24 days of chocolate flavored with buttered croissant, eggnog crème brûlée, and salted honeycomb? 

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This advent calendar is an ode to Japanese artistry 

Bokksu’s approach to advent calendars is meticulous. Each year offers a different, beautifully-packed selection of treats that reflects the Japanese snack site’s own thoughtful curation. The 2026 calendar is an ode to the country’s talent for lantern-making, and features treats like hojicha chocolate crunch and savory senbei, as well as handcrafted pottery, figurines, and even a New Year’s Eve decoration.

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This Japanese Kit Kat advent calendar

Japanese Kit Kats are famous for their wide range of flavors, and this 12 day advent calendar features a whopping 72 individually wrapped bars from Sugoi Mart, an online boutique beloved for its Japanese snacks, collectibles, games, and more (don’t sleep on its Japanese Halloween candy bundle, either).

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The largest city in North America, Mexico City is a unique, elastic, ever-changing patchwork of food traditions. As a native of the city and a food writer covering the scene for the past 14 years, I’m still amazed by CDMX’s captivating energy and scale.

Since Eater first started reporting on Mexico City’s dining scene in 2016, the way people travel and dine out has changed. Food-obsessed travelers visiting CDMX are often guided by opaque and controversial award systems, such as the 50 Best and, since 2024, the Michelin Guide. But there’s a lot more going on in restaurants here. I’ve witnessed CDMX’s growing openness to regional cuisines and its fascination with trends. I’ve also watched as the chefs who launched Mexico City onto the international stage more than 20 years ago have begun quietly passing the baton to a new generation of chefs and restaurateurs, who have traveled the world, worked in the best kitchens, and returned home to continue their cooking journeys. 

In the spirit of sorting out what is worth visiting, this list includes 38 restaurants and experiences for first-time and seasoned diners in Mexico City, focusing on projects that have distinctive culinary point of views, clear commitments to hospitality, and/or young local talent in the kitchen. 

We update this list regularly to make sure it reflects the ever-changing Mexico City dining scene. Our write-ups include insider tips from our experienced writers and editors, as well as a rough range of pricing for each destination — ranging from $ for quick, inexpensive meals with dishes largely under $10 (or the equivalent in pesos), to $$$$ for places where entrees exceed $30.

New to the map in October 2026: Eater’s fall additions to the list move across neighborhoods and moods: A reinvention of one of Roma Norte’s favorites, Lalo, with an Italian-inspired new concept; El Distrito Fresco, a casual seafood spot fit for a long afternoon of eating and drinking in Tabacalera; an experimental bar, FO+MA, to end a night in Mexico City on a cocktail-heavy note; and Los Pacientes, a Doctores neighborhood taquería with a wide range of tacos and Norteño vibes.

If you’re looking for even more travel tips, order the Eater Guide to Mexico City, which unpacks the sprawling city by breaking it down into seven chapters, along with histories and glossaries that put the tamales and pozoles you’re eating into eye-opening (and mouth-watering) context.

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This excerpt was originally published in Pre Shift, our newsletter for the hospitality industry. Subscribe for more first-person accounts, advice, and interviews.

This is the final installment of our series Getting on the Map, presented by Apple Maps, where we shared how some of the most creative bars and restaurants are marketing themselves to stand out in a crowded hospitality scene.

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“Hey, I’m Mike,” the video opens. “I’ve been a bartender for a long time in New York City and I’m opening my very first bar. Let’s go inside.” 

It continues, showing Mike, whose name is Michael Bishop-Myers, picking over menus for his Brooklyn bar, Susu’s, which opens this week. In one clip, we see drills on the in-progress bar counter; in another, someone adjusts a frame on a wall. A previous video from the bar showed the installation of its speaker system: 12 Klipsch speakers and one Powersoft amplifier. 

Who’s this for? Apparently, a decent number of people! The first video accrued over 103,000 views on Instagram and earned the bar a slew of excited comments.

Across social media, owners of bars, coffee shops, grocery stores, and restaurants are turning their buildouts into video series and finding an eager audience for niche, behind-the-scenes content. Beginning in 2022, Chicago chef Jacob Potashnick used TikTok videos to chronicle the process of building his own restaurant, Feld, which opened in 2024. It has since won a James Beard award and earned a Michelin star, hooks that now guide Potashnick’s recent content. Vancouver’s Cowdog Coffee, which was started by content creator Joe Lee, similarly shared its buildout on social media.

The Nitro Bar in Providence, Rhode Island, has been a leader in innovative social media for food businesses, with owner-turned-social-media-personality Audrey Finocchiaro known for videos in which she presents her staff with goofy prompts (“I haven’t pooped in three days. What would you make to make me poo?”). Finocchiaro, who also makes videos about the reality and the absurdity of running coffee shops on her personal account, is now documenting the process of bringing the Nitro Bar to NYC in a series of longform YouTube videos. One follows her to an interior design meeting; in another, with over 54,000 views, she tours the production space. 

As Rachel Karten of the social media-focused publication Link in Bio has explained with regard to The Nitro Bar, it all comes down to building a “my show is on” mentality around a business, which can feel, to some extent, like a character. “You’re the host, the employees are the cast, the coffee shop is the set,” Karten said on a panel with Finocchiaro at an industry event this spring. Finocchiaro has described her approach to social media as treating the coffee shop like its “own person,” someone who customers want to befriend.

Cookbook author and food personality Jake Cohen recently announced a new series in which he DIYs the transformation of a Brooklyn warehouse space into the event space and test kitchen of his dreams. “Should I do stainless countertops? Stone? Butcher block?” he asks, standing in the very-before-photo bathroom. Here, the crossover appeal of content like this becomes clear: It’s HGTV meets the Food Network, for people who need their consumption choices steered by some level of parasocial relationship. Through a “making the restaurant” series, a business owner (and even a business itself) becomes someone (or something) to identify with, and a character viewers want to support.

For the most extreme example of this trend, there is Sammy Nussdorf, who documented the journey to opening his high-end NYC grocery store Meadow Lane over, per Grub Street’s analysis, “430-plus days, several permitting snafus, and nearly 700 TikTok posts.” By the time Meadow Lane opened in late 2025, Nussdorf was not only a founder, but as familiar (and as polarizing) a character as a Real Housewife; his confessional approach and the saga’s protracted will-it-open-or-won’t-it air gave the grocery store buildout the kind of cliffhanger appeal we might otherwise seek out from reality TV. 

“I think the more disclosure, the more unveiling of the curtain behind a private business, the more interested people are,” Nussdorf told the New York Times this summer. This TikTok approach was immensely successful as a marketing tool, spurring lines down the block when it opened; even Meijer shoppers in the Midwest were hearing about Meadow Lane.

We’ve seen this level of increased disclosure across the board in the restaurant industry, as the success of Substack and the rise of short-form video platforms allow anyone to go straight to an audience. Chefs like Stockholm’s Bill Allison have gained traction online sharing the nuts-and-bolts of restaurant life. While its Instagram presence is minimal (and its TikTok presence nonexistent), the new NYC restaurant Legion’s owners published a series called The Opening Files on Substack in the lead-up to its debut earlier this month. Whereas a prospective restaurant owner might have once relied on a traditional media publication to make the judgment call on whether audiences might be interested in the nitty-gritty of choosing a restaurant space or choosing dishware, individuals can now test that hypothesis directly. 

Even legacy media’s leaning in. Last year, Curbed ran a multi-part series following restaurateur and author Eddie Huang as he embarked on the process of opening the restaurant that would become the new Baohaus. Here, Huang wrote about things like touring spaces, having deals fall apart, and very candid confessions about the specific finances of it all. 

Ultimately, it boils down to one thing: People are nosy. Give them what feels like good gossip.

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