I caught horrific stage fright in the production of this story on New York eating.
Sending a food critic to the spiritual home of restaurant dining might seem like a done deal, but New York is so big, and the food is so famous, and my time was so limited
I don’t know how stress plays out for you but for me it usually leads to a series of urgently made yet terrible decisions to try to “solve” the root problem.
In this case my solution to knowing nothing about Manhattan eating was to make no plans and do no research but follow my nose when I got there. This would not serve me well.
A guy I’d never met before invited me to a Senegalese food festival which happened to be around the corner from a Peruvian restaurant in East Harlem I’d heard great things about.
"Would Viva readers be interested in a story about eating in Harlem?" I texted my editor hopefully upon landing, adding "some parts look a bit scary".
“I think they’d be interested in a New York story with some Harlem,” she suggested, possibly guessing what I would later find out, that even hard-core Manhattan food-hunters would struggle to call that area an eating hot spot.
“Harlem is kind of niche, bro,” agreed ex-New York chef Matt Lambert when I DMed him for advice. Then he sent me a very long list of must-visit bars and restaurants dotted around Manhattan, forcing me to go up to my hotel room and lie down for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, I’d instagrammed some shots of our Saturday afternoon arrival at JFK airport and people back in New Zealand were replying fast.
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Advertise with NZME.“You’re gonna be so full!” predicted a foodie friend. “Weigh yourself before and after!” wrote another.
But I wasn’t full: at the end of the first night I was lying awake at midnight (4pm NZ time), cursing myself for visiting the wrong restaurant and not ordering properly.
The next day was busy with work obligations and then I would only have Monday (famously the one day most restaurants are closed) to try to find you the goods.
Right now you would be reading a close analysis of American Dorito flavours were it not for the intervention of a guardian angel.
As I sat, 11am Monday, outside a cafe in SoHo (having already made a puzzling early morning decision to visit the Museum of Maths then taken the wrong train to the 9/11 Memorial and accidentally departed the city), I was approached by a small and special woman named Helen Klisser During, a New Zealander who’d spent decades in New York as an art consultant and photojournalist and was back in the city for her first post-lockdown visit.
By chance she recognised me. “I have a free afternoon if you’d like me to show you around?” she offered, as if she didn’t have better things to do. A little too quickly I said “yes”, and then “please”, and then “thank you very much”.
And so for the next six hours we walked, stopping by some of her restaurants, shops and other points of interest. The theme of this story is: you can’t do New York in a day, but if you were forced to, this is what it might look like. And I’m writing it for what I think will be a huge number of Kiwis visiting New York for the first time who aren’t quite sure where they should start.
SoHo is a famous name and even if you don't specifically recognise the intersection of Houston and Lafayette, it feels iconically New York, with its huge Calvin Klein billboard, paparazzi camped outside Gigi Hadid's apartment and some of the most beautiful pedestrians in the world weaving between Yellow Cabs and delivery trucks to make their way across the street (if the spot looks familiar, it's where they filmed the Zoolander supermodel gas fight, #IYKYK).
SoHo and NoHo refer to the areas south and north of Houston St, and we dipped in and out of each as we made our way west, through cobbled neighbourhoods that, over the course of a decade or two, followed the usual pattern of poor then cool then trendy then very expensive.
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“When you’ve been in New York a few hours, you understand why they have parks,” said Helen as we made our way through the noise and soot.
We skipped through NoHo to Washington Park, where old men play chess against each other and whoever else is brave enough to take them on. A trio of musicians played immaculate live jazz beside the fountain, NYU students tanned in the sun and a squirrel tried to fight his way out of a doughnut bag.
The outdoor patios are new since Helen was last here: every restaurant has a weatherproof structure on the sidewalk so their diners can comfortably eat outside.
They form such a nice scene all lined up next to each other that you wonder why they didn’t do it earlier the street front feels like one long food festival, and the only question is which restaurant to choose.
And there are plenty of good ones on this route Italian and French mostly, though while I was there local Indian restaurant Semma on Greenwich Ave made The New York Times' list of America's top 50 restaurants.
We had a great bowl of pasta at Bar Pitti, but I'd go back to try some very famous old Manhattan institutions: Sant Ambroeus, Pastis and Balthazar. A friend had the pizza of her life at John's of Bleecker St.
Bleecker St is a great arterial to wander up, past Christopher St where the LGBT community used to congregate before the rest of the city opened its arms to them (the historic Stonewall Club is found here). Meanwhile, merchants selling cheese, salami and coffee beans live their daily lives as if supermarkets had never been invented.
I didn’t arrive with a wishlist of pop culture landmarks to cross off, but I did get a kick out of seeing a few names I didn’t know I knew as we walked through the West Village toward the meatpacking district: The Blue Note Jazz Club, Cafe Wha? (ground zero of the 60s folk scene), the Comedy Cellar.
Only looking at the street map now do I see we passed right under Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment, so I missed my opportunity to leave a religious offering.
We detoured to take in some of the Whitney a huge museum that moved south into this spot seven years ago in a bold demonstration of cultural momentum in this area.
One of New York’s Big Four (along with the MET, MoMA and the Guggenheim), the Whitney focuses on modern American art, though sadly I was too early to catch October’s feature exhibition on “America’s Picasso”, Edward Hopper.
We were almost at the water now, and stumbled upon Little Island, a new artificial public park planted on tulip-shaped structures attached to the bed of the Hudson River. It’s a fun, multi-level (and controversial construction was delayed by NIMBYish lawsuits until the governor brokered a deal) project that makes you wonder if Mark Twain’s investment advice to “buy land, they’re not making it any more” is actually true.
I was surprised to see a few firms still packing meat in the meatpacking district the area was discovered some years ago by the hospitality crowd and is now better known for clubbing than cold cuts. Landmarks include the Standard hotel, a bi-coastal icon popular with rock stars and people who enjoy sleeping with rock stars.
Around here you can get up on the High Line, a 2km walkway created from a disused railway line. Though most of New York’s colour happens at street level, the High Line is a pleasant break from the sidewalk, with artworks and planting that create a rare feeling of peace in a frenetic city.
This posh rail trail takes you through my new bestie Helen’s old haunt the Chelsea art district. Dozens and dozens of galleries line these city blocks (though sadly for us, they’re closed on a Monday) and provide a nice reason to step off the walkway and explore the street below.
Eventually the High Line concludes at Hudson Yards, a newly developed area that features a couple of architectural creations so stunning you just have to stand and stare the Shed, and the Vessel.
Hudson Yards is home to the Edge, the highest viewing platform in the world, as well as loads of retail stores and a beautiful culinary venture called Little Spain, where Spanish food businesses of exceptional quality cluster in one fancy food court.
We parked up at tapas bar La Barra and ate extremely well shrimp fried in garlicky oil, a bright, vinegary tomato salad and the best gazpacho I've ever sipped. Then we got up, hugged, and said goodbye.
Was this the definitive Manhattan walking tour? Would I have been better off to wander Wall St? Or the Lower East Side? Or Chinatown?
These are unanswerable questions. But I loved my day with Helen, and I wouldn’t swap it. This was my own unique New York experience and in this city, more than any other, I reckon every new visitor needs to find their own way.
Some other foodie finds around the city
1. Cronut inventor Dominique Ansel sells pastries from a floral entranceway outside his workshop in Flatiron. Try his DKA, essentially a caramelised croissant with brown sugar.
2. You'll find highly refined cocktails with excellent ramen at ROKC. It's a bit of a schlep but worth it for an experience no other tourist would dream of stumbling on.
3. You'll have no shortage of restaurant recommendations but I enjoyed Contento, a Peruvian wine bar with impeccable food and an 80s soundtrack diners can't help singing along to. It was set up by a chef who uses a wheelchair, so many aspects of the restaurant are subtly different to cater to people with disabilities.
4. If you enjoyed Netflix's show Street Food you should seek out Harlem Seafood Soul for chef Tami's deep-fried macaroni balls, or shrimp and grits.
5. Good coffee is surprisingly easy to find and every barista now knows what a flat white is (though check the size of the cup they're planning on serving it in).
6. If you need food late, Love Korean in Midtown is a fun, fantastic choice. DIY grill over a barbecue built into your table, but be warned, it's almost impossible not to overorder.
7. In the same spirit as LIttle Spain try Eataly, a one-stop destination for New York's best Italian food (bonus: it's near the Museum of Mathematics).
8. It’s official the New York Times reports that martinis are back in, particularly those with a twist; even the cloying “appletini” of the 90s has reappeared with a sophisticated new recipe. Try Martiny’s near Gramercy Park for a room entirely devoted to the drink.
