NYC Eats x Book Tour

Book tour & eating around New York

Sometimes when I travel, people point me towards Michelin-starred restaurants. I’m not sure why, since (hopefully) that’s not the vibe I put out. I’ve sat through those meals and honestly, I’m just as happy having a slice of pepperoni pizza, an incredible bánh mi sandwich, or even something as simple as a bowl of shredded wheat; spooning up those little woven squares of whole wheat, floating in a bowl of cold milk, is a Proustian moment for me.

One thing I was especially craving when I arrived in New York City was an everything bagel. CDG airport in Paris can be confusing, something they plan to address in 2027, so hopefully when you’re looking for gate 4, you’ll find it between gates 3 and 5, rather than way on the other side of another terminal, which you need to take a shuttle to.

JFK airport is doing what CDG should do: a complete and total overhaul. My taxi driver was swearing all the way through the tangle of roads that led to my terminal in Paris, and even almost came to blows with another driver. I’m pretty much used to that from living in France for so long, but I admire that French people get over altercations quickly…c’est normal, whereas I hold them in forever.) At JFK, I waited 45 minutes for my suitcase at baggage claim, my Lyft took nearly 30 minutes to arrive, and the drive to Manhattan added another 95 minutes. So while I appreciate people asking me to come to their city, travel is certainly a challenge these days, to put it mildly.

I was staying just down the street from Apollo Bagels, which is one of those places that always has a line. Their website describes their bagels as having a “shattering crisp exterior,” which is certainly truth in advertising. The surfaces, both top and bottom, are embedded with a thick layer of “everything” seeds, and they’re not too thick or puffy. (My other faves are Russ & Daughters, but that would’ve been a longer hike from where I was staying and time was of the essence.)

Even though my flight arrived at 12:30pm, by the time I got there two minutes before closing time, at 4:58pm, they were out of bagels. Apologies to the person who tried to talk to me on the street as I was on the verge of hysteria, but getting a bagel was my priority.

The next morning I was up at 2:30am, thanks to the décalage horaire (or, le jet-lag, as we call it in my dual language home), and took care of the cavalcade of emails and messages that piled up in my absence. I got a bagel when Apollo at 7:01am, right as they opened, and topped it with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and capers. I know there’s no red onion on it — and to me, I save the tomatoes for summer salads — but travel means that you take what you can get. As a French friend once told me: On ne peut pas tout avoir, You can’t have it all. But that bagel was darned good.

One thing that Paris still lags on is dumplings. After catching up with a good friend who I worked with at Chez Panisse, over dim sum at Tim Ho Wan, I told her about the remarkable brownies at Hani’s, just a few blocks away.

You don’t know how good a brownie can be until you’ve had one at Hani’s. They’re hard to describe, but it’s like a solid block of the densest, darkest chocolate one can imagine. Even I can’t imagine it. You just need to experience it.

The line was long since it was Sunday, but Miro, the super-friendly baker and owner, was manning the door, smiling as he ushered people in, anxious for one of their awesome cinnamon buns or tahini-pistachio Rice Krispies treats, which are also unimaginably good.

One perk of being a baker is that we look out for each other, and Miro kindly stepped inside and emerged with a brownie for us, with a chocolate chip cookie as an added bonus, which was the size of a toddler’s head.

My friend is très exigeante, meaning she has a very discerning palate, and she was also swooning over the brownie (and cookie) that we wolfed down on the sidewalk.

On another day, my friend Susan Spungen asked me what I was doing for lunch. She was out of town but recommended the bánh mi sandwich at Bánh Anh Em. When she described the housemade bread as “so light and crispy…it just kind of melts as you eat the sandwich,” I was sold. And another sandwich was sold. Thankfully, you can order online and pick up your sandwich at a designated time. I ordered the char-fired barbecued pork belly with pickled vegetables, hoisin sauce, and scallion oil, and I have to say, it was one of the best sandwiches I’ve had in my life. (Thanks, Susan!)

It was also huge and was so big that I had a hard time eating the whole thing, but I also had a hard time stopping.

Not too far away is Astor Wines & Spirits, a place I used as a reference when I was writing Drinking French to see what French spirits and apéritifs were available in the U.S. In spite of tariffs and other shipping issues, it’s nice to see that Astor still has a great selection of French spirits and apéritifs at drinkable prices. Some bottles were less expensive here, and easier to find, than they are in France.

Astor has elusive bottles like Bonal, Salers, Avèze, Byrrh Grand Quinquina, Bigallet China-China, an even-better replacement for Picon Amer (which is unavailable in the U.S.), and cherry-flavored Maurin Quina.

Other finds include Dola Dira, made in Burgundy, a lovely low-sugar, bitter red apéritif flavored with rhubarb and bitter oranges, as well as Bruto Americano from St. George Spirits in California, a better swap-out for brash Campari, plus a lineup of Brooklyn-born spirits from Faccia Brutto. I was tempted to bring a few bottles home, but I’m still working on the 200+ bottles I amassed while writing Drinking French. Cheers!

Duck confit with cabbage, and Steak hachée with poached egg

I normally avoid French restaurants and French bakeries when I’m traveling, since I live in France. True, there are great French restaurants and bakeries outside of France, for sure, but I don’t need a macaron in Taipei, and would prefer to drink sake over Sancerre when I’m in Tokyo. But a friend reserved at Marcel, the new restaurant in the Breuer building, a brutalist masterpiece in New York City, and I didn’t want to miss a chance not only to see my friend, but also to dine in that building.

The restaurant is helmed by French chef Marie-Aude Rose, who’s cooking elevated French food, dishes rooted in classic French cuisine, but updated and spiffed up, with stiffer prices. (Although prices are similar to what you’d pay at an elevated bistro in Paris nowadays.) Between the five of us, we shared two endive salads ($28 each) that came with apples, bacon, and Gruyère cheese, then had mains. I had a very good steak hachée à la française ($48), a pan-fried patty of ground beef over slices of potatoes, topped with a perfectly poached egg. The restaurant is not inexpensive but it’s located in a swanky part of town and you’re paying to eat in that fabulous space designed by Breuer. The food was well prepared and more filling than it is in France, thanks for rich, well-made sauces.

The dessert menu is divided into two parts, and the second part is called Les Grands. While the prices seem steep…

Half of the dessert menu at Marcel, the desserts that are meant to be shared

…they bring out a whole cake. As usual, everyone looked at me when it was time to order dessert, which happens…even though another guest at our table was a well-known pastry chef. The waiter had mentioned the soufflé needed to be ordered in advance, which I should have been more dynamic about ordering, but no one could decide, so we didn’t.

Instead we had this Paris-Brest, which was fabulous. Laced with a bit of black currant puree, it was filled with a rich caramelized hazelnut cream and was well worth it.

A must-stop for me in New York is Shukette. Even in the Middle East, I haven’t had food like this. That bottom dish is labneh with strawberries and basil oil, which sounds like a questionable idea. But wow — the strawberries on top were bright and slightly acidic, and melded perfectly with the rich labneh cream, along with a swirl of herby basil oil. I wasn’t thinking of ordering it, but Brad Thomas Parsons, who I was dining with, added it to our order.

The spring pea dip was also a dream, with spring garlic and preserved lemon, and you can’t eat at Shukette without having a few things from the “Rip This” portion of the menu, which features housemade breads. The best was the frena, fluffy (yet crisp on the bottom) Moroccan bread topped with roasted garlic. Another, not shown, was lafa - a grilled flatbread liberally brushed with ramp butter.

There were also shawarma-spiced fries, toum (garlic spread), beet tzatziki, and tahini soft-serve ice cream for dessert, topped with halvah floss and pomegranate syrup. I don’t know how many recipes chef Ayesha Nurdjaja will be sharing in her upcoming book, Mediterranean All the Way, but I can’t wait to see it.

Speaking of books, while I can’t see everyone I want to when I come to New York - with apologies to Renato, Casey, Adam Roberts, and Michael Ruhlman, which makes me feel like a heel, I make time to see Susan Friedland, who acquired and edited my first two cookbooks. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be writing cookbooks.

We met up at CheLi, and unlike everyone else I dine out with, she doesn’t reply to my asking what she wants to order with, “I don’t know, what do you want to order?” She knows what she wants, and she knows good food. She also spilled some tea when I had her on my podcast, talking the truth about the world of cookbook publishing:

So I let her guide us through the menu and she was pretty insistent we order the pork belly with quail eggs, shown above. It was excellent as were the dry-fried green beans, a necessity when you travel since you never want to miss a chance to get some vegetables into your diet. One cannot live by brownies and pork belly alone, although it certainly feels like I’m giving it a try.

Yesterday I met with friends, ramen master Ivan Orkin, and cookbook author J. J. Goode, at 100 Feast & Lounge for more dim sum, then I hoofed it up to Kitchen Arts & Letters to sign copies of my book for folks who pre-ordered, and left a stack of signed copies for those who come into the shop or order online.

I also stopped in Wild Sorrel Cookbooks, a new cookbook store in the East Village, then headed to Williams-Sonoma to do a signing at their store in Columbus Circle. Whew!

Thanks for everybody who turned out for my events in New York. It was a whirlwind trip, but as you can see, I got a lot in…with more places to go.