When We Went to Old Restaurants in Large Groups
Remembering the Brief, But Glorious Run of the New York Landmark Appreciation Society.
It all started in early 2012 when I heard Bill’s Gay 90s was going to close for good.
I was still running a blog then called Lost City. The site was aptly named. I spent most of my posts charting the death or imminent deaths of landmark city restaurants, bars, shops and other institutions. The original “about us” thumbnail description of Lost City was, “The original, running Jeremiad on the vestiges of Old New York as they are steamrolled under or threatened by the currently ruthless real estate market and the City Fathers' disregard for Gotham's historical and cultural fabric.” Yeah, it was a lot of fun.
(I added in “original” a few years into the blog’s run because a few other bloggers copied the blueprint and ran with it, some with great success.)
When news came of Bill’s imminent exit, I decided to do something more positive with the information. A farewell dinner seemed in order. In March 2012, I joined forces with a fellow food/drink writer to host a get-together on Bill’s second floor. (I also needed someone with a credit card with a credit line big enough to put down a deposit for the dinner, and, in 2012, that definitely was not me.) Roughly thirty food and drink writers and editors, as well as a smattering of bar professionals, signed on. There was a set bill of fare and, as I recall, a great many rounds of Rob Roys. There was a piano on the second floor and at one point barman Dale DeGroff and distiller Allen Katz set up there and sang a few songs. Jill Degroff, Dale’s artist wife, spent some of the evening sketching the people in the room. (She later gave me her drawing of me, which I cherish as an artifact of that last night at Bill’s.)
At the end of the evening, the owner of Bill’s gave us a tour of the four-story townhouse, which dated from the 1850s and which Bill’s had occupied since the 1920s, when the bar opened as a speakeasy. This was a treat, as I’d never seen anything beyond the ground and second floor. I learned that Bill’s held more secret treasures than I had previously imagined. The ornate swinging doors on the first floor, made of intricately carved wood and stained glass, once hung at the entrance of the bar at the old Hoffman House, one of the most famous hotels ever to grace Manhattan. The Hoffman House held up the west side of Madison Square from 1964 to 1915 and was the last word in urbane, Gilded Age luxury.
A bar on the top floor of Bill’s once stood at the final location of Delmonico’s, the most famous restaurant in New York history. The bar had a copper sink. The walls on that floor featured an old stained-glass, pre-Prohibition Pabst sign and a framed caricature of showman Florenz Ziegfeld. And, in the basement, a false brick wall still opened onto a secret room where liquor was stashed during Prohibition.
My heart hurt all the more to know Bill’s contained all these New York artifacts. But at least we had given the joint a proper send-off.
The evening was such a success that my colleague and I decided to keep the ball rolling. But going forward, we would be proactive. We would not only arrange dinners at restaurants in immediate danger of closure, but also legacy New York food institutions that weren’t threatened, but merited a little loving attention from the food press. Food writers and restaurant critics tend to live in a bubble of the here and now, focusing on whatever is flashy and new while ignoring legacy restaurants. It was my hope that the dinners would open their eyes to the alternate values older eateries offered in terms of atmosphere, tradition and the ongoing dining continuum. We can all benefit from knowing not just where we are today, but where we came from.
We struggled over what to name the new floating dining club. I recall my partner suggesting something twee involving the word Yesteryear. My choice was the New York Landmark Appreciation Society. Wordy, but it said it.
The location for our second dinner was quickly decided for us. The news broke that the owner of Donovan’s, a sprawling Irish pub in Woodwide, Queens, that was famous for its burgers, was looking to sell the place. Donovan’s was well-suited to our purposes. The many-roomed hall was made for large groups and private parties. We secured a room just off the bar and near the fireplace and freely ordered from the standard menu. (I doubt anyone had anything but the justly celebrated burger, which is simply broiled and served unseasoned.)
Donovan’s was happy to take our booking. That wasn’t always the case. Frequently, as I tried to set up NYLAS dinners, I was turned away by places that were afraid to offend their devoted regulars by letting out the premises to a private party. For this reason, I was never able to secure an evening at Donahue’s Steakhouse, a snug chop house on Lexington Avenue that only seats 30 or so; or JG Melon, a revered saloon on the Upper East Side that resolutely refuses to rent to private groups.
We hosted a dinner roughly every four months for about two years. We needed the time in-between fêtes because the affairs were not easy to put together. I did much of the reconnaissance work, while my colleague sent out the email invite and keep track of the RSVP’s. I paid at least two visits to each restaurant before the actual dinner: first to secure the booking and set the menu (we usually had to order from a limited bill of fare, though a couple times we were given access to the entire menu); second, to interview the owner about the history of the place. I shaped the latter information into a speech that I delivered during the mid-point in the evening, so that the diners might go home knowing the restaurant’s backstory a little better.
The most difficult part of evening came at the end, when it was time for everyone to pony up. Early on, I insisted we strictly follow the Jack Germond Rule. Germond was an old-school political reporter who asserted, quite correctly, that “a group of reporters dining together must split the tab evenly, regardless of who ate or drank more.” This was the only fair way to avoid endless debates over who should pay what. (Inevitably, a couple of people would get their nose out of joint about this. All I could say about them is, well, you should have enjoyed another glass of wine or two, Bub.)
At most of the dinners, this wasn’t an issue. I doubt the cost per head at Donovan’s was more than $40. However, at higher-end restaurants, passing around the collection plate could become discomfiting. At Le Perigord, an old-school French restaurant on East 52nd Street—where we had a private room and the waiters displayed an extremely heavy hand in dolling out the wine, refilling glasses again and again when not requested to—the tab per person nearly topped $200. And that was in 2013 dollars.
The cast at the NYLAS dinners varied from meal to meal, based on people’s availability and level of interest in the selected destination. Like “Hollywood Squares,” there were some stalwarts who always showed up, and an array of rotating guests. But we always managed to put together a good crew. Among the attendees were: restaurant critics Pete Wells, Ryan Sutton, Joshua David Stein, Jay Cheshes, Tejal Rao and Robert Sietsema; food and drink writers Jeff Gordinier, David Wondrich, Rosie Schaap, Andrew Friedman, Charlotte Druckman, Kara Newman, Alia Akkam, and Hugh Merwin; editors Dan Saltzstein, Chris Schoenberger, Mari Uyehara, Talia Baiocchi, Leslie Pariseau, Alan Sytsma and Amanda Kludt; distiller Allen Katz; bartenders Dale DeGroff and Eben Freeman; and photographers Daniel Krieger and Melanie Dunea; and all-around bon vivants Joe and Nicole Desmond.
One of the best dinners was at the immortal Katz’s Deli. We took up the entire back space, around the corner from the deli counter and feasted on pastrami, corned beef, pickles and French fries. I recall that evening as being the most critic heavy. Sutton, Stein and Sietsema huddled in a corner and talked shop. (Soon after, it was announced that Sutton and Sietsema had jumped to Eater as staff critics.)
I always learned something when I interviewed the owners of the restaurants. The Katz’s interview was particularly rewarding for me, since I had eaten at the place for so many years without knowing its full story. Regarding what could be called Katz’s most famous attribute, the deli had employed its famously peculiar ticket system from day one, way back to when two brothers named Iceland owned it. Using tickets was a fairly common way of paying for your purchases back then. Now, no one does it besides Katz’s. At some point, they brought in an efficiency expert in to see if there was a better way. They came up with two alternate systems. One was to give each counter person their own cash register. The other was for every patron to go up to a single cash register and pay for their food before they sat down and ate. Both were rejected as more time consuming and Katz’s stuck with the tickets.
The Katz’s speech was easily dispatched, as we were seated apart from the rest of the restaurant. That wasn’t always the case. Sometimes we had a private room, which made speechifying easy. Other times, we were right in the thick of the crowd, forcing me to shout out my speech above the din of the room. The most challenging space was Bamonte’s, the classic red sauce joint in Williamsburg, which radiates a joyous cacophony even on its quietest nights. My speech ran about ten minutes, which I delivered at the top of my voice. While I tried not to disturb any other diners, but slowly the rest of the room began to turn their attention my way. I recall some scattered applause at the end. Gordinier gave me a fatherly pat on the back when I finished.
As it turned out, the Katz’s dinner, held in January of 2014, would be NYLAS’ swan song. My partner would no longer commit to any further dinners after that, purportedly due to their busy schedule. And so NYLAS passed into history. The dinners were too difficult to manage on my own; moreover, such a shift would have been awkward. Hoped-for dinners at Mario’s in The Bronx, Zum Stammtisch in Glendale, Queens, and Brennan & Carr in Sheepshead Bay were not to be.
In total, NYLAS ended up hosting eight dinners. In order, they were: Bill’s Gay ‘90s; Donovan’s Pub; Bamonte’s; El Parador Cafe, one of New York’s oldest Mexican restaurants; Heidelberg, the longstanding German restaurant in Yorkville; the previous iteration of El Quijote, the Spanish restaurant inside the Chelsea Hotel (where one of the diners memorably stopped conversation by stating he had lost his virginity in the hotel); Le Perigord; and Katz’s Deli. Today, three of those restaurants are gone.
After Katz’s I missed NYLAS. The get-togethers were fun and people enjoyed themselves; for years afterwards, some members continued to ask me when the next edition was going to be. I don’t know if the dinners succeeded in changing the hearts and minds of any of the foodies that attended. But at least, when the restaurants closed—or do close in the future—they’ll know exactly what they were missing.
Editor’s Note: “The Mix” will be taking a break for the coming holiday. There will be no posts on Dec. 23 and Dec. 26. We’ll see you all again on Dec. 30! Happy Holidays, to all who celebrate!
Odds and Ends…
Oscar Ramirez, the ever-smiling longtime staff member at Long Island Bar in Brooklyn, broke his leg in three places last week while jogging through Prospect Park. A GoFundMe account has been established on his behalf. The goal is $25,000 and they are very close to meeting it. Let’s exceed their expectations! Please consider donating to his cause. There are few nicer people in the hospitality business… The Cherry Drop, Door County, Wisconsin’s version of the Times Square ball drop, will occur on Dec. 31 in Sister Bay. The Mix intended to attend last year, but was scared away by Omicron and the maskless participants. But we plan to go this year… Fans of City Chicken will find it daily at Jim Roma’s Bakery in Endicott, NY. But go early. It sells out… If you’re doing some last minute book shopping, try Books Are Magic, Omnivore Books, Now Serving L.A., Book Larder, Boston Shaker, Rough Draft Books, Boswell Books and Bold Fork Books… I wrote something about the persistence of holiday drinks for the New York Times… Three drinks from Modern Classic Cocktails were featured in Oprah Magazine… Keep your eye on Brad Thomas Parsons’ substack Last Call in the coming days for my Christmas music edition of Dive Bar Jukebox… The Penicillin cocktail is extremely popular in Spain. Watch this space for more intel… Pete’s Hot Dog Shop, an institution in South Bethlehem, PA, is closing after 85 years in business and is looking for a new owner… Brooklyn Hots, the purveyor of Rochester, NY, eats, including white hots and garbage plates, which opened in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, earlier this year—and is a favorite at The Mix—will sadly close on Dec. 30… Talk about dedication. John Tremain is well on his way to making and documenting every drink in Modern Classic Cocktails. Give him a follow on Instagram (@johnnyalpine) and Twitter (@alpinejohnny).
What glorious times those gatherings must have been!! Thank you for sharing and letting us in for a glimpse. Happy holidays!! Cheers
I have to say, “Simonson’s New York” is the best New York.