There’s one thing that locals kept telling me about New Orleans: The best food isn’t in a restaurant. It’s in someone’s home.

I did stick around long enough to be invited into one. That’s how I ended up streetside at a Mardi Gras parade, in Uptown, being handed drinks by a man who at a certain point could only say the nonsense word “changalang.” But the foods he had on display weren’t the fabled gumbo, or crawfish étouffée, or fried chicken.

So maybe my New Orleans story shouldn’t start there, in that home. Maybe my story starts when I walked from Tremé to the Seventh Ward, then crossed under the I-10 into Marigny. Beneath the I-10 is a plaque that reminds you that this historic black neighborhood was torn in half by the freeway above it.

In the Seventh Ward I was told by a cultural ambassador of New Orleans that integration hastened the downfall of its thriving black neighborhoods. Vance Vaucresson’s family has been making hot sausage, also known as chourice, in the Seventh Ward since 1899. I ate it on a po’boy with extra pickles and Crystal. It tasted like home, even though this is actually Vaucresson’s third home. The original was on the other side of I-10, now called the Circle Food Store.

“This is the New Orleans Seventh Ward Creole version of Creole chourice,” Vance told me as he put together a batch, as always, in the center of the restaurant, in plain view of customers. “We as a family have been in this 3-block radius, from North Claiborne to North Johnson Street, servicing this community for 126 years.”

Maybe the story starts the first time I got called a Yankee, at Verti Marte. When I was told the difference between the South and the North is “family and God.”

“It’s a big part, those 2 go together in the South,” Verti Marte’s owner, Sam Hatfield, told me. But surely, we have family and God in the North? “I know you do,” he answered, coyly. But the implication was we don’t have it like they do in the South.

I witnessed that first-hand when I broke bread with a Vietnamese man named Thien Nguyen at Big EZ Seafood, who crossed himself before we ate 10 pounds of Crawfish. Sometimes I get asked what the English version of the phrase “bon appetit” is. At least in New Orleans, it seems to be the sign of the cross. Thien told me that growing up poor in California, crawfish were the only thing he was allowed to eat until he was full. New Orleans is his home now, and he ships them all across the country.

God. Family. Segregation. Immigration. Crawfish. I could depict New Orleans as collage. But in many ways its design is deliberate and formal, ideated by powerful figures who blockbusted and red-lined their city into the shape they wanted it to be. I could depict it as a tragedy. But then why the hell is everyone partying? I will list its restaurants; but the best food is in someone’s home.

I have only scratched the surface of New Orleans. There is a sense of history and joy and resilience, but I can’t speak about it like they can. I conducted 6 interviews that I hope represent the city well, but I know they can’t represent it fully.

If you are planning on visiting New Orleans, you can watch our Feasting on $50 episode where we find the best breakfast, lunch and dinner for under $50. I’ve listed our choices below, as well as many other restaurants I enjoyed during my 2 weeks there.

Please give it a like and sub, that would be super helpful:

Where to Eat in New Orleans (recommendations from a Yankee)

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Thanks for reading People & Food. Today we are running a story by Angela Xu (@BrooklynFoodLady) about Vân Vân, a specialty Vietnamese herb and spice purveyor in New York.

While the herbs they provide to restaurants are game-changing and essential to the business, Angela writes here that “their fledgling business originated from a more personal place of homesickness and hunger.”

Interested in writing for People & Food? Pitch me here. - Rob Martinez

The Vietnamese restaurant scene in New York City is having a moment. From the uber authentic dishes at Mắm, served atop low plastic tables and stools evoking Hanoi, to the Tết celebration at Saigon Social featuring dishes such as canh khổ qua (bittermelon soup) and bánh tét chiên (fried sticky rice), gone are the days of lamenting over a lack of incredible Vietnamese food.

The offerings have evolved beyond phở and bánh mì too. At Falansai, chef Eric Tran is creating elegant, innovative dishes at the intersection of his Vietnamese and Mexican roots. Meanwhile at Ha’s Snack Bar and the newly opened Bistrot Ha, traditionally French and Italian dishes are getting the “Ha’s treatment” with a pinch of Vietnamese herbs, a dash of spices, and a lot of fish sauce.

Underpinning this culinary renaissance is a need for fresh, flavorful ingredients, which have not historically been accessible in New York City. That is, until Vân Vân came along.

It may appear as if wife and husband duo, Thảo Bùi and Duy Võ, founded Vân Vân to meet the increasing demand for quality Vietnamese ingredients stateside. In reality, their fledgling business originated from a more personal place of homesickness and hunger.

Enter Ăn Xôi

Thảo Bùi was born and raised in Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City). Growing up, some of her fondest memories took place around her grandmother’s table, gathered with her family to eat an enormous feast. However, she took the fresh, home-cooked meals she ate everyday for granted. It wasn’t until she immigrated to the U.S. that she realized how special the native ingredients of her motherland truly were.

When Thảo and Duy arrived in Queens in 2017, the couple made the bleak discovery that “New York didn’t really have good Vietnamese food”. Thảo realized that if she wanted to taste the delicious, home-style dishes of her childhood, she would have to learn to cook them for herself.

The COVID lockdowns provided the perfect opportunity for Thảo to learn her family’s recipes. The process could be daunting at times: during instructional video calls with her mother quantities were eyeballed and timing was vague. “You have to be more specific!” was a common refrain, repeated exasperatedly during that time.

As she dove deeper into the intricacies of Vietnamese home cooking, the pandemic project evolved into more than satisfying her homesick cravings. “I started understanding a lot of the nuances in Vietnamese cooking, and it made me a lot more appreciative of my food and my culture,” she shares.

“Through generations of migration and displacement, my family has kept our food traditions alive. Now that I live abroad and probably won’t go back to Vietnam to live permanently, I don’t want all of these recipes to die with me.”

@anxoi.nyc

Ăn Xôi on Instagram: "Xôi prep from last weekend. Thank you eve…

Eager to share her newfound appreciation, Thảo founded a pop-up called Ăn Xôi, literally “eat sticky rice”, where she used sticky rice as a canvas to present the abundance of Vietnamese food to the world. However, she quickly had to put the passion project on pause when the undiagnosed neck pains she had been experiencing for over a year became debilitating.

Thảo’s doctor finally suggested an MRI to rule out a brain tumor. The scans revealed a massive tumor that was encroaching on her spine. Five days later, she was wheeled into the operating room for emergency surgery.

The road to recovery post-operation was slow, but Thảo was armed with a new lease on life. In an Instagram post from early 2022 she shared, “All of February went by in rehabilitation. Learning to stand up. To walk. To move my toes. What was once normal suddenly took a tremendous amount of efforts and sweats. I also thought a lot about Ăn Xôi. Maybe it was the time to do what brings me joy.”

As Thảo regained her physical mobility, she turned to Ăn Xôi as an outlet for her energy and a way to reclaim independence. However, with each trip to the grocery store, her frustration mounted over the lack of access to the herbs and spices required for Vietnamese cooking.

Suddenly, it clicked. “Growing up in Vietnam, we were surrounded by really, really good aromatics,” Thảo recounts. What if she introduced the ingredients that she grew up eating everyday to an American audience?

Thảo began consulting family members back home about where to go to find different ingredients. When sourcing from abroad proved nearly impossible, she flew back to Vietnam. Even then, sourcing ingredients continued to be a challenge. Despite speaking Vietnamese, people could tell from her accent that she wasn’t local, which made it hard for her to build relationships. Furthermore, many farmers didn’t care about ethical sourcing, and preferred selling large quantities to existing buyers over taking a risk with a new buyer. But she persisted.

After many months of building every aspect of their company from scratch, Thảo and Duy launched Vân Vân in 2023 with the goal of bringing the flavors of Vietnam to the North American pantry by specializing in single-origin, terroir-driven herbs and spices.

The Restaurants Hooked on Vân Vân

Helen Nguyen, chef and owner of Saigon Social, was an early champion of Vân Vân. She first met Thảo and Duy through Ăn Xôi, having run her own restaurant as a pop up for two years, and helped advise the couple on early sourcing trips to Vietnam.

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Thanks for reading People & Food. Today’s deeply-researched piece is written by Alexa Calderón, who spent a great deal of time tracking down every person in New York who makes masa from scratch—from street vendors and tamaleros to tortillerias and Michelin-starred restaurants. This is a living guide to the people who are preserving the tradition of nixtamalization in New York, amidst a larger story of why this renaissance is occurring in the first place.

In New York, it is rare, but not impossible, to find fresh corn masa.

New York has many tortilla factories, and many restaurants that make tortillas by hand. But there are only around a dozen molinos, or corn mills, that process raw corn kernels into fresh, nixtamalized masa—the nutrient-dense corn dough that is the backbone of Mexican cuisine. The difference between the two seems subtle, but yields a massive difference in flavor.

The process of transforming raw maize into masa is time-consuming, often taking up to three days. It begins with the centuries-old practice of nixtamalization, in which corn is boiled in an alkaline solution, increasing both its nutritional value and digestibility. Once nixtamalized, the corn is ground fine or coarse, depending on the desired outcome, using a molino, or mechanically powered mill. After this point, the dough can be rolled and flattened into tortillas, spread across corn husks for tamales, shaped into tetelas, and more.

Most tortillerías, both in the US and Mexico, produce tortillas using processed corn flour, meaning most people have only ever tried corn flour-based tortillas. With corn flour, nearly all of the flavor and nutritional value is lost.

When food tells only half of its story, there is a fundamental disconnect between what we eat and what we understand.

How Fresh Masa Became Rare - and Almost Extinct

Corn is more than the basis of masa, it is a connection to the ancestral.

Corn is the product of more than 9,000 years of human-led genetic domestication. Its ancestor, a wild grass called teosinte native to southwestern Mexico, was no larger than a pinky finger, with kernels so hard they resembled stones. Over millennia, maize evolved into a staple crop, supported by the aforementioned innovation of nixtamalization, a processing technique developed by Indigenous peoples. Eventually, it led to incredible maize diversity, with around 60 native varieties still existing today.

Though built up for centuries, this relationship has faced contemporary challenges, being systematically disrupted through market manipulation and financial interests. Through neoliberal reforms and the implementation of NAFTA, then later the USMCA, fresh corn masa is increasingly difficult to find.

The Battle Over Mexico’s Corn

1980s

In the late 80s, Maseca, a then-struggling corn-flour company, benefited from personal ties to Mexico’s then President, Carlos Salinas. His administration manipulated Mexico’s traditional tortilla program to favor corn flour over traditional producers.

Policy changes froze the amount of corn provided to artisanal tortillerías, incentivized small producers to adopt flour-based production through the purchase of Maseca’s equipment, and the government declared all growth in the market would be from corn flour. All of this accelerated the decline of fresh-masa tortillas, despite consumer preference for traditional flavor.

1994

Tortilla makers who refused to adopt Maseca’s flour-based production were punished through restricted access to quality corn, forcing many out of business. As Maseca’s market share grew, it captured a large portion of government subsidies, receiving $300 million by 1994.

2006

As of 2006, Maseca’s parent company, GRUMA, controls about 70 percent of Mexico’s corn-flour market. NAFTA-era reforms flooded Mexico with cheap U.S. corn, benefiting GRUMA while harming Mexican farmers, and the removal of tortilla price controls led to soaring consumer prices despite falling corn costs.

These policies didn’t just reshape Mexico’s tortilla economy, they determined what kinds of masa would be available in New York – and most of the US.

2023

In December 2023, Mexico’s then-president, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, attempted to ban genetically modified (GM) corn for human consumption.

2024

By February 2024, the USMCA dispute panel sided with the US, undermining Mexico’s efforts to protect its corn, public health, and food sovereignty from GM corn.

2025

Mexico’s current president, Claudia Sheinbaum, has constitutionally banned the planting of GM corn seeds intended for human consumption. Native maize varieties are vulnerable to genetic contamination when they cross-pollinate with GM strains, and experts warn that some ancestral varieties may already have gone extinct due to illegal plantings and genetic drift. Much of the GM corn originates from the United States, where farmers gained competitive advantage over Mexican farmers after NAFTA was implemented in 1994.

The State of Masa in New York

Tasting a tortilla made from absolute scratch in New York is rare. So rare that we have found only 12 molinos in the entirety of New York state who are making their masa in-house.

Tortilleria Allison is one of only three places outside of the city that is milling its own corn and making fresh, nixtamalized masa from scratch. Their work has helped the locals in the Oaxacan enclave of Poughkeepsie feel an emotional connection to their home.

@robmartinez

Rob Martinez on Instagram: "I never knew Poughkeepsie had a big…

“A young man took half a pound of tortillas – since we sell them by the pound, he decided to take just half to try them because he wasn’t very sure…” Tortilleria Allison’s co-owner, Mariela Lavariega, explained.

“When his mother tried them, she started crying. She said the tortillas reminded her of the ones she used to buy back in her hometown, and she remembered her mother and her grandmother. She has been in the US for many years, and when she tasted the tortillas, those memories came back to her.”

Blanca Pilar, a street vendor in Brooklyn, has her own molino in her home, which she uses to process corn to make fresh tamales and atole. This gives her a distinct advantage in the competitive world of street vending, where Maseca is used as a shortcut in the already labor-intensive work of making tamales.

“Making tamales takes almost three days,” she told me. “One day is for cooking the corn so I can wash it and grind it in the mill, because if it’s still hot, the masa doesn’t come out right. I cook it one day, wash and grind it the next, then start making the tamales, and by the third day they’re ready to sell.”

Pilar is not alone in her pursuit of authentic flavor, or in taking extra steps to ensure her tamales live up to people’s memories of home. Fernando Lopez of Factory Tamal goes even further, refining his masa through a process called cernir – sifting it to remove clumps and achieve the proper texture.

“As far as New York City goes,” Lopez explains, “they sell tamales, but most people make them with Maseca, and almost no one – really, no one – was making tamales from scratch. So, based on the flavor from when I was a child, I set out to recreate and rebuild the tamales I ate growing up.” Lopez wasn’t comfortable selling his tamales until the recipe was perfected, and when it received the stamp of approval from strangers, he knew his mission had been accomplished.

“Every time they ate, they were reminded of their grandmother,” he told me. “They’d say, ‘Oh, wow – this is like what your mom used to make, right?’ And that filled me with even more pride and motivation to keep going.”

Supporting places that make masa from scratch means preserving ancient traditions diminished by free trade and globalization, while also honoring a food culture widely accepted in the U.S. without full consideration of its origins or the people behind it. Plus, it tastes better: “The flavor of my tamales is different from those made with Maseca,” Blanca said. “People come to me for the taste of the tamales – the flavor and even the texture. They tell me it reminds them of their hometown, their country, because they’re made from natural corn.”

While very few molinos exist in New York, masa availability is increasing thanks to wholesale distributors like Masienda and Tamoa. But one local business has been integral to onboarding restaurants like the 3 Michelin-Star Eleven Madison Park to the world of traditional nixtamalization: Sobre Masa.

From Oaxaca to Brooklyn

Sobre Masa began as a way for co-owners Zack Wangeman and Diana Montano to reconnect with their Oaxacan heritage. When the pandemic halted indoor dining, the business pivoted toward wholesale tortilla production – initially as a matter of financial survival. Five years later, both the restaurant and wholesale arms are flourishing. Today, Sobre Masa supplies fresh masa, tortillas, and even whole corn kernels to more than 35 clients across the city.

Beyond its own growth, Sobre Masa has become a model for others interested in working with traditional corn. When asked why more New York City restaurants don’t grind corn in-house, Zack’s answer is pragmatic: “Our tortilla factory has grown a lot because of how difficult it is. Labor is really expensive for restaurants, especially when you add nixtamalization and hand-pressing tortillas. Space is another issue – most kitchens are in basements... And the cost of heirloom corn is a barrier.”

He adds that Masienda’s minimum order of 20 bags raises a logistical question: “Where do people store that in New York City? That’s why we started selling corn, too.”

This year alone, Sobre Masa estimates it will bring in close to 100 tons of corn. What distinguishes their tortilla factory, however, is not just scale but flexibility. “If someone has a special event and wants us to mix in something like ramp purée, or if they prefer their tortilla chips a little thicker, we can do that,” Zack explains. “You can always call us if there’s an issue. I find that romantic – it’s how things used to work. You had a butcher, a produce guy. If something was coming into season, you’d call them. I like that we’re the tortilla people. You can call us for any corn question or corn need.”

Thanks to local molinos, more New York restaurants are receiving fresh, nixtamalized masa and tortillas. At the same time, the number of molinos across the city is steadily growing as existing businesses thrive. In their pursuit of flavor and heritage, these models offer inspiration.

For these select few, clear themes emerge: a commitment to preserving heirloom varieties, using all-natural ingredients, honoring Mexican culinary traditions, delivering the best possible flavor, and maintaining a deep sense of pride and care in their craft. Each is remarkable in its own way, and every one of them is worth seeking out.

For many tortilla makers, this work is more than food, it is a connection to identity, memory, and resistance. As Matt Diaz, co-owner of For All Things Good, a molino and cafe located in Bed-Stuy puts it, “We care where we put our money and like to know that it can get traced back to the farmers and families who have supported the corn industry and diversity for generations.”

A list of the 12 traditional molinos of New York

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In Prospect Lefferts Gardens, Restaurant Ix always smells like something has been roasted with purpose. On a winter afternoon, the room warms up fast with steam and spice. Chef Jorge Cardénas runs the kitchen, and the menu reads like an invitation to learn: Quichón, Pepián, Jocón, Estofado de Muerto, and more.

I meet Jorge after the lunch rush, expecting a quiet room, but I find the opposite. Friends are still catching up over big bowls, and the odd solo diner leans in close to their stew. I come here often for the soups and stews, a coffee, or the off-menu Dr. Jaguar, a hot drink of herbs and spices that helps with a cold or the flu. But today I am here for something more foundational than any single dish.

“The base just exists for minutes,” Jorge tells me. “You start with it, and it becomes a soup.” He is talking about recado, the mother base of Guatemalan stews. It can be a spice mix, a paste, or a thick slurry, but Jorge is clear about what it is not: It is not a sauce meant to be admired on its own.

“It doesn’t look sexy,” he says, smiling. “It’s not like guacamole.”

Recados are often divided into three groups: Rojo (Red), Verde (Green), Negro (Black). But when I bring this up, Jorge stops me. “We don’t put it in three colors,” he says. “It’s just different. We have like, I don’t know, 50, 80… like Mexican moles.”

The difference, he explains, is not the label, but what you do to the ingredients before they ever touch the pot. Even in a green recado, he might push ingredients toward darkness. Scallions can be roasted “until they are almost charcoal.” Tomatillos are never raw. “I like to scorch them until they are black.” The same direction can taste fresh and bright, or deep and smoky, depending on how hard you roast, toast, or burn.

In other words, a recado is not one of three master pastes waiting to be assigned. Jorge thinks dish by dish. Jocón has its recado, Pepián has its recado, Quichón has its recado. The rojo/verde/negro labels can be useful shorthand, but they do not capture how recados actually function in his kitchen.

Luckily, we can taste at least 5 of these recados right here in Brooklyn. To help me understand, Jorge lines up a tasting flight for me, five bowls arranged like a spectrum. Seeing them together makes the concept click. The recado exists just briefly—before it becomes a plated dish.

The 5 Recados of Ix:

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Hey, this is Rob Martinez. Thanks for considering People & Food as a publisher of your work, I appreciate it.

What is People & Food?

People & Food is—for now—a publication where 90% of subscribers have been referred from my video work. I hope it becomes, instead, a home for a diverse set of writers and readers who believe in championing small food businesses from around the world and the people who operate them. The mission is to change where folks choose to eat: away from the moneyed-up groups with PR companies and influencer dollars, and towards the mom-and-pops that instill pride in our communities.

Because of the strong association with my work, I encourage you to take a look at some of my more popular videos to get a sense of what folks expect of People & Food. I believe they expect the following:

• Deeper stories that others are not covering, like the whole lamb in New Paltz or the challenges a grocer faced while offering relief to SNAP recipients

• A focus on not just the newer spots, but the places that have been holding it down for years, like Brennan & Carr in Brooklyn and Gregory’s Gourmet Desserts in Oakland

• Direct quotes and insights from chefs, cooks, and restaurateurs. I am unlikely to publish a piece that doesn’t include interviews as part of the reporting.

• Useful observations about trends that others haven’t noticed. For example, I thought it was worth writing about black al pastor when it arrived in New York.

• Stories about not just chefs but artisans and experts in the food world, like my story about Aqua Best.

• Updates from the community. My network of chefs and business owners is open to you, and I will be working with them to develop recipes and share more of their stories.

In short, your pitch should be a good story about food that includes primary sources, ideally that others haven’t noticed yet. Our tagline is Food is Personal. Some keywords I use for my work are urgency, tension, pride, and usefulness.

We Pay Writers

Not as much as I would like, but please keep in mind I did not raise $2 million dollars. We pay from our subscription revenue, so please subscribe and share!

Here are some of the more pragmatic details on pitching:

• Our current rate is $.50/word (as of 01/01/26), and writers should also take quality photos. I am always happy to shoot photos myself if available and necessary.

• Please include your ideal headline in your pitch.

• Writers should not write about PR meals. Nothing against restaurants with PR, but I am looking for contributors who seek out their stories.

• Our audience is primarily based in New York. I am interested in stories from NYC, NJ, Philly and the surrounding areas.

• I am also open to weekly or monthly series.

• Please email all pitches to pitches@peopleandfood.com

Thanks again for your interest, I am looking forward to adding a lot of contributors to People & Food in 2026 and beyond!

- Rob Martinez

Before the year was even over, the 2025 “Best Restaurant” winners had been crowned in New York City. For NY Mag, it was Le Veau d’Or. For The Infatuation, Smithereens. At the Times, they included Kabawa, Smithereens, Ha’s Snack Bar, and Borgo on their list of 2025’s best restaurants in America.

My 2025 year in dining wasn’t so focused on the now. My most popular feature of the year saw me dining in a 45 year old Russian bath house in Gravesend, Brooklyn. I spent weeks in London and opted to only highlight immigrant-owned restaurants that have become staples in their communities, leading me to eat delicious Nigerian suya in Peckham, and Turkish tantuni in Enfield. In Chicagoland’s Little Palestine, I ate mansaf with my hands at one of its most iconic, time-tested establishments. In Queens’ Little Bangladesh, I ate microwaved brain with a plastic spoon from a local street vendor. In Poughkeepsie’s Little Oaxaca, I wanted to cry after eating a memelita made by the owner’s mom, who ran a restaurant in Oaxaca decades ago.

“It’s impossible to keep pace with the state of the world—this is why it’s best to focus on the things that never go out of style.” - Paul Thomas Anderson, discussing One Battle After Another with Esquire

But I’m not some fussy artist in a bubble of my own making. Just last week I had a matcha at 12 Chairs (wonderful). At some point I ate one of Kwame’s Patty Palace patties (awful). I got a banh mi from Bánh Anh Em (I took it to-go; not ideal). In London, I ate at Jonathan Nunn’s #1 restaurant, Planque (sensational). In Tokyo, I did a Michelin-star Omakase (miserable). In New Orleans, I rubbed elbows with a Rolex-wearing Houstonite and ate gumbo that was black as night in a packed dining room where they sell $1.50 martinis. They gifted me a green lanyard with a bell on it to wear around my neck like a fucking cow.

I tried my best to be current and on-trend. But in the end, many of the best meals I’ve had in 2025 weren’t from restaurants that opened in 2025.

Weighing all of this—Let’s get started on my list of not only best meals, but best individual bites. A lot of this will be in New York City and London, but there’ll be appearances from New Jersey, Chicago, Kyoto, South Korea, San Francisco, New Orleans, Italy, and the Hudson Valley as well.

Where I ate the most in New York City in 2025:

While it’s important to reward those who push the restaurant industry forward in terms of technique and hospitality, I do want to start by just telling you where I ate most often this year. These are the places that kept me going.

1. Mama Yoshi Mini Mart, Ridgewood Queens - Everything here is good, plain and simple. Once upon a time I featured the spam breakfast burrito, but I go just as often for the beef gyudon bowl, with a massive piece of katsu on the side to eat while I walk home.

2. Wayne & Sons, East Village Manhattan - Crunchy tacos. Margaritas. Sneaky-good salsas. Sadly the original location has closed down, after the city forced them to close their streatery—cutting their seating by more than half. I’m looking forward to their Williamsburg location opening in January, 2025.

3. Dolores, Bed-Stuy Brooklyn - Their cochinita pibil tacos are the best I’ve had in the city. But everything I’ve tried on the menu—from the tiny potato-stuffed fried tortillas called papadillas to the chile relleno taco to the exceptional gorditas with chicharrón prensado—has been impressive and thoughtful. And crucially, they make very good salsas.

4. Nhà Mình, Ridgewood Queens - I went here for banh mi and pho for quite a while and never felt really satisfied. Now I stop in for the lemongrass chicken bún. The rice noodles are stacked with deeply-charred chicken and pickled veg, and it’s the perfect vehicle to try all of Fred’s fresh and creative sauces (like the crab peanut one I had recently that was wild, or the coffee hoisin that’s been a staple for years).

5. Carnitas Ramirez, East Village Manhattan - Even though I may take Taqueria el Chato’s al Pastor as my #1 taco, Carnitas Ramirez may be #1 taqueria. I find all of the lard-soaked confit’d pig parts satisfying, and their salsa bar with pickled onions is a perfect compliment. I want to eat here all the time. Every time I see one of the owners, Gio, I apologize for not having found the time to feature this place properly.

HOT DOGS OF THE YEAR

This year saw me acting as a hot dog sherpa for Adam Richman and Brad Leone, so it’s only right I crown some winners.

1. Holydog, Middletown New York - My fascination with Holydog has continued long after my feature there. The Mexico City dog, with house-made jalapeños, is a new favorite. Read more here: Food is personal, papito.

2. Art’s Drive-In, Chicago Illinois - Their char dog is simple and perfect. It was an early choice in our Chicago Sausage episode.

3. Pierogi Boys, Ridgewood Queens - Their “Polish Boy” has a kabanosa sausage with slaw, barbecue sauce, spicy mustard and potato sticks. It’s a hefty and delicious snack.

Potato of the Year

I tried to leave the premises of Bake Street, in London, multiple times before owner Feroz Gajia could shove a jacket potato into my hands. I’d seen the videos of tuna mayo being heaped on split-open baked potatoes, and nothing appeals to me less. But Bake Street doesn’t make bullshit for social media, and Feroz is one of the most critical people I know when it comes to food. So I relented.

His potato is twice-baked, its insides mixed with saffron creamed corn that had been leftover from his collab with 2-Michelin Star Ikoyi. Named the “Hermanos Corn Special” on the menu, it’s sprinkled on top with cotija cheese and served with chipotle mayo. It’s Feroz’s take on elotes, in jacket potato form.

Like many of the other great dishes I’ve had at Bake Street—their Bajan-inspired fish cutter sandwich, Feroz’s seasonal take on the In-N-Out Burger, or their viral creme brulee cookies—this jacket potato seems to have emerged from the ether with no other goal than to be the most delicious thing it can be. It silenced the voice in my brain and left me smiling and shaking my head.

Creamed corn. Jacket potato. Elotes. Of course - that makes total sense.

Behind the paywall: The Most Interesting Restaurant of the Year, 19 Top Bites of 2025, and my top 5 Meals of 2025.

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The first time I ate at Mắm, a server vigorously stirred a pungent shrimp paste at my table until it turned from clear to opaque, explaining to me that this particular mắm tôm had been smuggled in from Vietnam via suitcase. I dipped fried tofu and blood sausage into the sauce, and tasted its iron-y, salty funk. I didn’t really get it.

But the most recent time I ate there, I was being handed glasses of wine from wine importer Steven Graf, while launching questions at Mắm’s co-owner and chef, Jerald Head. The food tasted good—really good—and it was the same exact dish I’d had last time. Did he change something about the food, or did that first experience change me?

“It’s you. You changed, man,” Jerald answered. Maybe I’d needed to rise to the challenge. The dish served with shrimp paste is called bún đậu đặc biệt, a towering pile of house-made tofu, rice sausage, pork belly, blood sausage, grilled intestines, and herbs. It’s a signature dish at Mắm, and Jerald knew it should be, despite the previous restaurant he worked at asking him not to put the dish on the menu.

“I remember the ownership being like: New York is not ready for this. I was like: I’m a white dude. I fucking love this, you know?”

Behind the paywall: The origins of Mắm, Jerald’s plans for the future, and what wines we brought to pair with the menu.

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“Chicago’s a sausage town,” is what chef Jonathan Zaragoza tells us as we sit in his living room, sampling salsa seca. “If you think about what Chicago is, we’re a sports town. What sports event do you go to and not have a hot dog, a polish, a brat?”

Jonathan is best-known as an accomplished chef and content creator—who we joking call the “Salsa 101 guy”—but I know him through his family’s beloved restaurant Birrieria Zaragoza. He not only grew up in Chicago, he’s been working in the Chicago restaurant industry for nearly 20 years.

To us, that makes him the perfect judge for a blindfolded ranking of Chicago’s best sausages on our Martinez & Mu Channel. If you haven’t watched the episode yet, there are some spoilers below.

“That tastes like Green Street, I’m not going to lie to you,” he tells me as he bites into a sausage, blind-folded. He’s right: It’s the cheddar-jalapeño smoked link from Green Street Smoked Meats. “That’s a jibarito,” he says while tasting another sausage. “The smell of the lettuce gave it away.”

“There it is,” he says while eating claypot rice. “That’s Chinese sausage.” We knew Jonathan would be a good guest judge; we didn’t expect him to be Daredevil for food.

After we wrap filming and the winner is revealed, I tell him his true calling: Forget Salsa 101. It’s time for Salchicha 101. “Oh no,” he says, laughing.

“That’s behind the paywall, homie.”

Below is a list of everywhere Julian and I ate in the Chicago episode of Food Duels. Behind the paywall, you can listen to us go behind-the-scenes on the episode (no salchicha 101, sorry). Consider subscribing to support the channel. ❤️

• 📍Art’s Drive In, 1333 W North Ave, Chicago, IL 60642 (Google Maps Link)

  • Julian’s first pick is also the very first Chicago Dog he has ever had.

  • He ordered the Char Dog with Fries: all-beef hot dog, poppy seed bun, yellow mustard, bright green sweet pickle relish, white onions, tomatoes, dill pickle spear, and pickled sport peppers.

• 📍 Doma Cafe, 946 N Orleans St, Chicago, IL 60610 (Google Maps Link)

  • Rob didn’t think his order of Eastern European beef sausages would beat Julian’s Chicago Dog in a Chicago episode. Julian didn’t either.

  • He ordered the Ćevapi: Grilled beef sausages in a flatbread, ajvar (roasted red pepper eggplant spread), kajmak (salted clotted cream), and white onions.

• 📍 Jibaritos y Más, 3400 W Fullerton Ave, Chicago, IL 60647 (Google Maps Link)

  • Rob: Often questions why his dish choices don’t win. Also Rob: Decides to send it and choose a Blood Sausage Jibarito.

  • The Jibarito is a sandwich originating from Chicago. Invented by Venezuelan cooks at a Puerto Rican restaurant called Borinquen, it’s a derivative of a patacón, where fried plantains are used to sandwich ingredients.

• 📍 Mart Anthony’s Italian Restaurant, 1200 W Hubbard St, Chicago, IL 60642 (Google Maps Link)

  • Three of Julian’s choices in this region were closed or sold out before he decided on Mart Anthony’s.

  • He ordered the Italian Sausage and Peppers. Later this was defeated by Rob’s choice at Green Street Smoked Meats.

• 📍 Novel Pizza Cafe, 1759 W 19th St, Chicago, IL 60608 (Google Maps Link)

  • Other than Kasama, this was probably the spot that Rob and Julian wanted to hit the most.

  • Julian ordered the Longanisa and Giardiniera tavern thin pizza.

• 📍 La Nonna, 3400 N Lawndale Ave, Chicago, IL 60618 (Google Maps Link)

  • Rob grabbed the Choripan, an Argentinian street food comprised of chorizo and bread with chimichurri.

  • Fun fact: Rob ate most of the sandwich before remembering to take his photo. It was easily beaten by Julian’s Lao sausage.

• 📍 Resi’s Bierstube, 2034 W Irving Park Rd, Chicago, IL 60618 (Google Maps Link)

  • This stop marked the first of many beers that Rob had in this episode - It’s one of the first places in America to carry many German pilsners.

  • He ordered The Thuringer: smoked pork and beef sausage in a bun. All of the sausages come from nearby Paulina Market.

• 📍 Jonny’s Claypot Rice, 1835 S Canal St #A, Chicago, IL 60616 (Google Maps Link)

  • This ended up being Julian’s back-up sausage that he was able to bring due to the advantage from winning the map.

  • He ordered the Chinese Sausage Claypot Rice: Cured, dried pork sausages with a crispy rice bottom.

• 📍 Tac Quick, 1011 W Irving Park Rd, Chicago, IL 60613 (Google Maps Link)

  • Rob went here, aged 20, based off of a recommendation from the Chowhound forum. He loves nostalgia.

  • I will put one thing the owner told me about this place behind a paywall… He did not want it public.

• 📍 Kimski, 954-960 W 31st St, Chicago, IL 60608 (Google Maps Link)

  • Julian knew he was coming here the second he saw this was a Korean Polish fusion hot dog.

  • He ordered the Maria’s Standard: Polish sausage, seasonal kimchi, soju mustard, and scallions on a brioche bun.

• 📍 The Duck Inn, 2701 S Eleanor St, Chicago, IL 60608 (Google Maps Link)

  • The very first proxy battle, where Rob sent Julian to try the Duck Dog to battle against Julian’s own pick.

  • Rob chose The Original Duck Fat Dog: Beef and duck fat sausage, relish, onion, tomato, mustard, pickled serrano peppers, dill pickle spear, all on a poppy seed bun.

  • We tell a funny story about this behind the paywall.

• 📍 Sunset Phở Caffe, 2856 N Clark St, Chicago, IL 60657 (Google Maps Link)

  • Julian found a Vietnamese and Croatian fusion restaurant. It turned out to be Rob’s favorite stop of the day.

  • Julian wanted Rob to order the pho with cevapcici, but after discussion about whether that was a sausage or a noodle dish, we went with the spring rolls with cevapcici.

• 📍 Green Street Smoked Meats, 112 N Green St, Chicago, IL 60607 (Google Maps Link)

  • Rob ordered the Cheddar Jalapeño Hot Link, which beat the Italian Sausages and Peppers in a showdown.

  • This ended up being the runner-up sausage.

• 📍 Lao Der, 3922 N Elston Ave, Chicago, IL 60618 (Google Maps Link)

  • The Sai Ua Moo is the best thing that Julian ate, which is fitting because it won the entire episode.

  • Ground Pork, lemongrass, galangal, lime leaves, garlic, onion, chili powder and turmeric sauce.

• 📍 Jim’s Original, 1250 S Union Ave, Chicago, IL 60607 (Google Maps Link)

  • This 24/7 stand opened in 1939 is a true Chicago Institution, even though it ended up losing its showdown to the Chinese Sausage Claypot Rice

  • Polish dog with yellow salad mustard, grilled sweet spanish onions, and a spicy grilled serrano on top (which you should probably not eat - it’s very spicy.)

  • Unsuccessfully tried to dethrone the claypot rice. Bummer.

Below, enjoy both the video and audio version of the Martinez & Mu Show.

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34 days into the longest government shutdown in history, as SNAP benefits began to lapse, Young Kim took to social media to confess: “Last night, I was very ashamed of myself…” He had been planning Thanksgiving promotion for his store, Jubilee Marketplace, as most grocers do in November.

But as Young saw his peers mobilize to collect and distribute food directly to their communities, he hit pause. When Christine Liu, co-founder of HEYDOH, reached out to Young to ask for fresh produce donations, he wondered, “What am I doing to help?”

“Nothing, until now,” he declared on the now-deleted video (reposted below).

Young Kim is not your average, anonymous grocery store CEO. In 2023, he went viral for selling $2.55 smash burgers at the newly-opened Jubilee Marketplace Greenpoint. In 2025, Pete Wells of the New York Times wrote him up for lowering the price of groceries in his store, often checking each SKU individually against local competitors. Now, he wants to take on the government shutdown and its subsequent SNAP freeze.

He did not anticipate how difficult that would be.

After sharing a video offering a 25% discount to SNAP recipients, friends at RiseBoro Farmers Markets alerted Young about the SNAP Equal Treatment Rule, which states that retailers “cannot treat SNAP-EBT customers differently than any other customer”. According to USDA guidelines, “This equal treatment provision prohibits both negative treatment (such as discriminatory practices) as well as preferential treatment (such as incentive programs).”

In effect, a 25% discount for those who have lost their benefits is strictly prohibited. In order to circumvent the rule, retailers must apply for a SNAP Incentive Waiver Request.

Young decided to remove the video to comply with the rule. “I understand that policies and rules and laws are made with a broader vision, but at the same time, I feel like this is a special circumstance where the funding has been reduced to 50% [from 100%]. So why can’t I help?” he laments. “The rules weren’t really detailed, and I just didn’t want the person using the SNAP-EBT to be penalized because of us.”

When Young initially announced his incentive program, he was heartened to see other retailers following suit. “We’re just in one neighborhood,” he explains. “Anything we do to help the community from our initial price reductions to this discount, if others could do it too, it’ll have this chain effect.” After removing his video and issuing a corrective statement, Young reached out to caution other businesses as well. “We should’ve researched more before we initiated this move, but the policy stuff was frustrating,” he reflects. “I had no idea that they would have a policy like this.”

However, Young is not letting that stop him from helping in any way he can. He established a food drive in Greenpoint with weekly donations to the Greenpoint Hunger Program, and has committed to matching every donated dried good with a fresh produce item. “Anytime there’s a big surge in demand like this, the food pantries might run out of supplies,” he said. “I’m hoping to help alleviate that.”

In addition, Young is investigating how he can contribute household items such as paper towels, which are not covered by SNAP benefits. Due to space constraints at the FiDi location of Jubilee, Young has committed to donating an equivalent dollar amount to local food pantries in Lower Manhattan.

Young originally planned to offer 50% off to SNAP recipients, but sheepishly admitted that with his grocery store still not being profitable, he couldn’t. Despite these obstacles, Young never wavered in his resolve to help his neighbors in need. “During my childhood, I received food assistance too, where the elementary school I went to offered free breakfast and free lunch… It really helped me and my family a lot,” he explains. “And anyway, we receive so much from the community as a business. I just want to do anything I can to give back.”

Angela Xu is a curious eater and food storyteller based in NYC. She founded Brooklyn Food Lady in order to share stories at the intersection of food, culture, and community with a focus on amplifying immigrant voices. Her passions include showcasing diverse cuisines, highlighting mom and pop eateries, and exploring the vibrant neighborhoods of New York City.

Rob’s Note: Young Kim has been a contributor to this Substack. He also appeared as a key subject in my Korea documentary. Angela Xu conducted her research and reported this piece independently, based on my initial suggestion for a story.

As I’m handed a slice of smoked salmon at Barney Greengrass, the gentleman behind the counter nods with eyes wide. “This is the spot,” he tells me. I let the fatty Nova Scotia salmon melt in my mouth, and shake my head. “It’s out of control,” he says. As they layer it on a bagel with cream cheese, capers, red onion and tomato, I feel confident that this is the best sandwich in New York City.

Spoiler: It isn’t. But in the end, it wasn’t up to me.

This was the first sandwich I tried on Food Duels, mine and Julian Mu’s new show that has us battling across cities to find the best foods in their category. But our choices aren’t gospel: Each food can be challenged, where its value will be decided by our Instagram community in real time, and our absolute favorite foods will be judged, by an expert guest in the city we’re in.

There is a lot more to the game, but, it’s easier if you just watch it.

Each week, we’ll be discussing the show and answering food questions here on Substack. This after show is behind the paywall for those who want to support the show, but below you’ll find all of the sandwiches we ate in episode 1 listed in order. Be warned: Spoilers for Food Duels episode 1 below.

Every Sandwich We Ate

• 📍 Margon, 136 W 46th St, New York, NY 10036 (Google Maps link)

  • Julian’s first pick is one he featured on his channel.

  • He ordered the Cubano: ham, pernil, pickle, cheese, and salami.

• 📍 Barney Greengrass, 541 Amsterdam Ave, New York, NY 10024 (Google Maps link)

  • Rob’s first pick is at a spot he’s never been to. Classic.

  • He ordered a traditional lox sandwich: Nova scotia salmon, cream cheese, red onion, capers, tomato on a toasted sesame seed bagel.

• 📍 Mama’s TOO! Pizzeria West Village, 325 Bleecker St, New York, NY 10014 (Google Maps link)

  • Julian ordered the chicken parm with vodka sauce and pesto. Ended up being Rob’s favorite sandwich of the day.

• 📍 Ollin 2, 2108 2nd Ave, New York, NY 10029 (Google Maps link)

  • Rob ordered the cemita with carne enchilada, plus a jamaica. If you do go here, don’t skip the mole poblano, it’s insane.

  • This was the runner-up sandwich.

• 📍 Parisi Bakery, 198 Mott St, New York, NY 10012 (Google Maps link)

  • Julian ordered The Dennis with roasted peppers, which ended up winning the whole show. Although nowadays Julian prefers “The Big Italian” from Parisi.

• 📍 Taku Sando, 29 Greenpoint Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11222 (Google Maps link)

  • After Rob pivoted away from Radio Bakery, he picked up a tonkatsu sandwich from Taku Sando. Skip the wagyu one.

• 📍 Jubilee Marketplace FiDi, 99 John St, New York, NY 10038 (Google Maps link)

  • Julian stopped in to one of our favorite places for the Korean chopped cheese, with galbi-marinated ground beef.

• 📍 Carmenta’s, 50 Starr St, Brooklyn, NY 11221 (Google Maps link)

  • The Jose Special is a traditional meatball parm, but embellished with salsa verde and fried eggplant.

  • This was Rob’s #1 pick during the episode. Possibly the best sandwich in New York, despite what our judge chose.

• 📍 Ba Xuyen, 4222 8th Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11232 (Google Maps link)

  • Our first repeat on M&M, featured in episode 1 of Feasting on $50.

  • Julian got the roast pork banh mi.

• 📍 Katz’s Delicatessan, 205 E Houston St, New York, NY 10002 (Google Maps link)

  • Rob tried to beat the Parisi sandwich with this, but to no avail.

  • Pastrami, sauerkraut, Russian dressing, swiss cheese on rye.

• 📍 Lowerline, 794 Washington Ave Apartment 8, Brooklyn, NY 11238 (Google Maps link)

  • A crazy pull from Julian. He got the roast beef po’ boy with debris gravy.

• 📍 Anthony’s Paninoteca, 3994 Amboy Rd, Staten Island, NY 10308 (Google Maps link)

  • Rob considers this Staten Island’s best sandwich shop.

  • After much deliberation, Rob went with the AGV: Chicken cutlet, prosciutto, giardiniera, hot capicola, fresh mozzarella.

• 📍 George’s Deli, 36-19 28th Ave, Astoria, NY 11103 (Google Maps link)

  • Julian got a chopped cheese, but he meant to get a birria torta at George’s Mexican Grill

Thanks so much for watching episode 1 of Food Duels. Paid subscribers can access the video and audio version of “The Martinez & Mu Show” below!

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There is, at the time of this writing, only one way to eat a Chinese whole roasted lamb in a yurt in the Hudson Valley. Here I’ve written a guide to the best practices for having this unique experience. You can see a video of what this feast looks like here.

Update as of 10/28/25: Y’all sold Jimmy out for the year. The form is currently down. I will update this when he opens up the form again.

Everyone asks me: How did you find this?

At the bottom of a list of recommendations I received in my DMs from a follower, it says this: “There is a yurt in Gardiner called bobo’s that does a full lamb too.”

That was enough for me.

I went down the rabbit hole. There are only 22 reviews for Bobo’s Farm on Google Maps. The listing is written in Chinese first, then English. The photos show groups of mostly Chinese people tearing apart lamb with gloved hands. The website links to a form for booking: It doesn’t list a price, a menu, or how many people you should bring.

Once I knew there were at least 10 of my friends interested, I submitted the form. The owner left me his number. His name is Jimmy, and the farm is named for his wife, Bobo. “She’s the real boss,” Jimmy tells me. “She’s a genius on cooking. I even wonder, ‘how does she know all of this?’”

Booking and Best Practices for the Feast (sold out until 2026)

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These were the words spoken to me by Jaime Palacios, better known as Chino, the owner of Holy Dog in Middletown, New York.

Born in China to Chilean parents, Jaime grew up between Mexico City and the jungles of Venezuela before moving to Brooklyn at age 24. He comes from a family of artists; his aunt is the artist Sylvia Palacios Whitman. He keeps a cluttered studio stacked with massive canvases behind his hot dog shack, but he tells me that food is the most important thing.

Rob: Are you an artist?

Jaime: Yes, all my life. That I didn’t choose. This nightmare? (He gestures to his restaurant.) I choose it by myself.

Rob: Why’d you start cooking?

Jaime: What do you mean “Why”? That is what we do. You see, that is how families say “I love you,” is with food. The nucleus of society is the family. The nucleus of the family is the table where we eat. Where we share values. When that is broken, society starts crumbling. Food is the most important thing, it’s why we do things.

Rob: Would you say food is more important than art?

Jaime: Food is art.

Then he laughs, and then he makes me the chicken sandwich that 2 locals had been waiting for since before he opened up that day.

robmartinez

A post shared by @robmartinez

Jaime opened the Mexican bar/restaurant Veracruz in Williamsburg in the 90s, and it still exists today. He placed every stone in the backyard himself, sourced from his neighbors on Bedford. After he and his partner were evicted (a story I probably can’t share here), he moved up to Middletown.

As to why he chose Middletown, he told me his friend threw a dart at a map of New York state, and it landed there.

The experience of visiting Holy Dog can’t be captured on film. There is always a line, and there are less than 10 seats inside. You order directly from Chino, and he’ll relay it to the one other member of staff to prep buns and condiments. The atmosphere is smoky from the amount of charred sugar burning on his griddle, left behind by the balsamic glaze he blasts his dogs with. Your order will be communicated back and forth between you, Chino, and the worker more than once. Often, Chino will hand you something to try: A piece of a “Girlfriend Treatment” (sausage, peppers, onions, chili, cheese, pico de gallo, and chipotle mayo), or a bacon chili cheese dog (bacon-wrapped and deep fried). On Wednesdays and Saturdays, there are sliders—but only if you know to ask for them.

Rob: I noticed there’s no system to order.

Jaime: No, no, no. No computers, no… We don’t have a TV, we don’t have WiFi, we don’t take orders over the phone.

Why? We like people. We like to talk to you, we like to cook for you, and you should like to see what I’m doing. Because if I don’t see you, who cares what I give you? Right? Because if you just receive it, then that’s it. The delivery guy’s gone, who are you going to complain to?

Food is personal, papito. You put it in your mouth.

Food is personal. It’s a profound and simple sentiment that has resonated with me for weeks now. The impersonal nature of food delivery, of ghost kitchens, of slop bowls, of AI, of the gig economy, of the man in the street, of the filming without consent, of the spitting out Hong Kong egg tarts in London, of the “come with me,” of the rating it one through ten, of the anonymous internet—It’s fucking killing me. And I need to counter it.

But not all that’s in my purview. I control this space, and the other spaces where I distribute videos. I have to make it personal, because it’s personal to me and it’s personal to the people I interview. John Czerw died and it hurt me. A restaurant owner texted me this week asking if I can help stabilize the business so he can give it a last shot. The owner of Lodi Pizza offered to take a loss if I couldn’t sell the t-shirts I printed featuring his business. “It’s a pride thing,” he told me at the time about his pizzeria. “It’s like you’re selling yourself through the pizza.”

Food is personal. It’s something to live up to. I’d like to be as accountable making videos on the internet as Chino is selling hot dogs. So I’m putting that as the tagline for this Substack. I am accountable for anything published here, or on my channels. There is no executive board, there are no investors, there is nobody replying on my behalf. It’s just me, some writers I trust, and y’all.

A big thank you is owed to Jaime “Chino” Palacios. Maybe I should head back for a part 2? Let me know in the comments. And subscribe for more stories about people and food.

📍 Holy Dog
44 W Main St, Middletown, NY 10940

Hey, Rob here. I’m excited to introduce some new writers this week: Alex Leo-Guerrra, AKA @BurgerChild, and Angela Xu, AKA @BrooklynFoodLady.

This week we also have Peter Candia writing about a New Jersey pizza shop (again? haha), Lindsay Paulen writing about udon in Crown Heights, and Mehr Singh tracking the first Sikh American to lead a Michelin-starred kitchen to a taco pop up in Williamsburg.

This column is 100% funded by your subscriptions. Thank you for your support. But with that said, I have turned off the paywall on this column for 2 reasons:

1. I want small businesses to know when they’re being written about, and to be able to read their pieces.

2. I want writers on People & Food to be able to share their work with family, friends, and followers.

The Google Map resources will stay behind the paywall, as well as the chat. You can also look forward to some fun subscriber-only content for fans of Martinez & Mu, including an aftershow for season 2.

As always, I am here to listen to feedback and suggestions. Get in touch with me in the chat.

Without further ado! Here’s Alex Leo-Guerra on Rollin’ Bagels, a spot I tried and loved a few weeks ago:

A bagel is as synonymous with New York as pizza, so when a new spot opens, there tends to be hype. Yet Rollin’ Bagels has built its following the old school way: slowly, from its spot outside the Court Square Station, on the northeast corner of 23rd Street and 44th Drive, where regulars congregate for breakfast before work.

Founder Quentin Guntur is a Queens kid. He started making bagels in a Bayside shop at 15 years old, and after falling in love with the process, he never stopped. “Bagels are a quintessential breakfast item for New Yorkers,” he says. “When I was growing up, I ate bagels all the time going to school with my mom. It’s a pure nostalgia food.” With his bagel truck, he’s brought that nostalgia to people in motion.

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Quentin hand-rolls, proofs overnight, and kettle-boils his bagels each day. One bite and you taste the fruits of his labor: a crisp exterior and soft, fluffy interior. When paired with his homemade cream cheeses, they emerge as an ideal start to your day. Order a BECSPK, and you’ll find even more beauty in it all: fluffy eggs, crackly bacon, and the perfect balance of condiments that can make your morning commute feel like a dance.

And then there’s the Spam, an homage to his Korean upbringing. “Spam is a comfort food from growing up — especially for many of us who didn’t grow up rich,” he says. “Having it on a bagel makes it different from everyone else’s. I want them to feel like home when they come to my cart. Friendliness, good product, good taste. That’s something worth coming back to.” No question — once you get a taste, you’ll be back. - Alex Leo-Guerra

📍 Rollin’ Bagels
3 Ct Square W, Long Island City, NY 11101

Alex Leo-Guerra is better known as @burgerchild, and has been eating, mapping, and writing about burgers (and all things food) for over a decade. He believes the best stories in New York start with what’s on your plate, and that the world would be a better place if we ate together more often.

2. NYC’s Best Key Lime Pie

At the very end of Van Dyke St in Red Hook stands a small storefront, a single window serving as a portal to the city’s best key lime pie. Welcome to Steve’s Authentic Key Lime Pie. Bright pink flamingos linger by the window, paying homage to owner Steve Tarpin’s hometown of Miami, Florida.

Steve wasn’t always a baker – in the 90s he was working as a carpenter until a back injury took him out of commission. That’s how he started baking out of his apartment on Smith Street. He brought one of his pies to a barbecue where a restaurateur friend asked Steve to bake for his steakhouse. His customer base grew organically as more and more people tasted his pies. At one of those restaurants, a young waitress was falling in love.

“I noticed the pies first,” Steve’s wife Victoria Tarpin giggles. “I fell in love with the pie first.”

brooklynfoodlady

A post shared by @brooklynfoodlady

What makes Steve’s pies so special that they could induce marriage? According to Victoria, it comes down to authenticity, which requires great quality ingredients. She shows me their processing facilities where the buttery graham cracker crust is baked fresh, dried, crumbled, and densely packed into tins of various sizes. Nearby, the golden ratio of condensed milk, egg yolks, sugar, and lime juice is mixed into their beautifully balanced custard filling.

The key (pun intended) is the freshly squeezed key lime juice. “Bottled juice is a no-no for Steve,” Victoria explains. In Steve’s words, “it shouldn’t be used for baking, but for stripping paint.” - Angela Xu

📍 Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pie
185 Van Dyke Street

Angela Xu is a curious eater and food storyteller based in NYC. She founded Brooklyn Food Lady in order to share stories at the intersection of food, culture, and community with a focus on amplifying immigrant voices. Her passions include showcasing diverse cuisines, highlighting mom and pop eateries, and exploring the vibrant neighborhoods of New York City.

3. How Eggplant Parm Should Be

Dom Maisano has been in the pizza shop since before he could walk. His father, Carmine, an Italian immigrant, opened Mainline Pizzeria in the 1970s. As soon as Dom was tall enough to see over the counter, he began slinging pies alongside his father, before taking over the business in the early 2000s.

Mainline is a slice shop. A quintessential New Jersey–New York kind of place. Forget the new-school pizzerias with lines around the block and dough recipes that read like scientific papers. It’s places like Mainline that keep the working class of the New York metro fed. Nothing more than you need, nothing less. For all intents and purposes, it’s a classic pizzeria. And here’s the thing about classic Jersey pizzerias: the sandwiches are often just as good as the pizza. Mainline is no exception.

I’ve eaten the eggplant parm here more times than I can count. Like the shop itself, set inside an old-school cablecar diner, the sandwich isn’t complicated: a fresh roll, bright tomato sauce, melty low-moisture mozzarella, and paper-thin slices of breaded, fried eggplant. That’s it. No Parmigiano Reggiano grated on top, no vodka sauce, no fresh mozzarella, no burrata. This is how parms used to be. We’ve strayed too far—it’s time to come home.

The first thing I do after receiving a Mainline eggplant parm is throw on a healthy dose of red pepper flakes, from the shaker that every true slice shop keeps on each table. The cheese stretches, the sauce is laid on thick, but what makes this sandwich the gold standard are the shingles of eggplant inside. Dom slices eggplant on a deli slicer, gives them a drench in egg and bread crumbs, then fries them to a golden crisp. People talk about chicken cutlets needing to be thin—and they’re right—but eggplant cutlets? Even more important.

This sandwich tastes like home. It brings me back to my high school days, grabbing one during my lunch break as a senior. It’s got everything you want, and nothing more. Forget the gimmicks—the viral parms that look better than they taste—this is a real eggplant parm. Why fix something that isn’t broken? - Peter Candia

📍 Mainline Pizzeria
8 Main St, Little Falls Township, NJ 07424

Peter Candia is the Food & Drink Editor at New Jersey Digest.

4. The Udon that Lindsay Almost Gatekept

I honestly debated if I wanted to write about Don Udon; it’s the kind of place that could easily go unnoticed if you aren’t clued in. With only 13 seats inside, all at communal counters, it’s hard to resist gatekeeping a spot like this. But ultimately, I realized it would be a disservice not to write about the bowl of soup that I can't get off my mind.

After luckily snagging the last two spots at the counter, my friend and I placed our orders through a QR menu. Within what felt like seconds, trays of piping-hot udon appeared before us. I got the kitsune udon, topped with a heap of scallions, fish cake and pieces of fried tofu skin, which soaked up the flavors of the rich, umami dashi broth. Unsurprisingly, the noodles were the star: bouncy with a slight chewiness. I opted to get a side of tempura crunch after remembering an udon spot I went to in Tokyo that left containers of the fried batter out on the counters, which added a lovely crunch to an otherwise texturally-delicate dish.

The beauty of a spot like Don Udon is in its simplicity, both in atmosphere and food. The menu is sparse, with only a few offerings outside of udon. For me, this tends to be an indicator that the restaurant is focused on perfecting the craft of a single dish, an approach that I often came across in Japan. This is undoubtedly the case at Don Udon — so much so that I spent a few minutes staring at the bottom of my bowl at the end of my meal, genuinely thinking about if I wanted to order another.

If I lived in Crown Heights, I’d be here more than I’d like to admit, particularly given that a hearty meal from Don Udon is easily under $20. But since I don’t, I'll just spend my days dreaming about the next time I can get another bowl. - Lindsay Paulen

📍Don Udon
634 Park Pl, Brooklyn, NY 11238

Lindsay Paulen is a self-proclaimed food person and writes Lindsay’s List, a twice-monthly Substack that recaps her monthly favorites and chronicles her adventures eating through NYC, from A to Z.

5. A Sikh-American Chef pops up with Tacos

It’s an exciting time for Chef Jassimran Singh. Earlier this summer, the executive chef of Crown Shy became the first Sikh American to lead a Michelin-starred kitchen, filling the late Jamal James Kent’s formidable shoes.

Singh grew up in Old Delhi, where labyrinthine lanes specialize in different kinds of chaat: the umbrella term for lip-puckering street snacks that are a jolt to all five senses. Last week, he brought this signature sensibility to New York’s expanding taco scene through a pop-up with Enrique Olivera’s Esse Taco.

The menu included a lamb shoulder asada with a cucumber pico de gallo that nodded to kachumbar, a flaken short rib raco with Kashmiri chilli, an aloo tikki chaat-nacho hybrid with broken bits of aloo tikki (potato fritters) zapped with mint chutney, and more. “[Nachos and chaat] are the same but with different components for texture, flavor, and heat, and, most importantly, the same cultural regard as a snack, not tied to a hierarchy of food,” Singh said.

Despite all these incredible, meaty tacos, the sleeper hit was the saag paneer tetela, which was also Singh’s favorite. Lush spinach saag and paneer filled the triangular blue masa pockets, and fried until crisp. Rich, savory, and crisp, the same satisfaction as a samosa but with an explosive filling. He cited Punjabi makki (corn) rotis with sarson (mustard greens) da saag as the inspiration behind the dish, and made fresh paneer in-house. “I wanted to do quesadillas, but Milton [Revilla] showed me tetelas, which eat really well…I added paneer to keep the quesadillas’ essence with cheese,” Singh said.

If this pop-up proves anything, it’s that Singh’s genius lies not only in flavor but in translating the street food energy of Delhi into a decidedly New York bite. - Mehr Singh

📍Esse Taco
219 Bedford Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11211

Mehr Singh is a food writer and recipe developer from New Delhi, India. Her work appears in The New York Times, Grub Street, Resy, Eater, and other publications.

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In a tiny kitchen, at the farthest end of a tiny restaurant, Jiro Iida is behind frosted glass, cutting fish. Once my sashimi bowl is plated in its cardboard bowl, carefully and beautifully, he peaks out wearing a Yankees cap, and drops it at the counter. This is the only glimpse of Jiro that I get on my first 2 visits to Hi-Node, in Ridgewood, Queens.

I have seen restaurant businesses rise and fall at 68-38 Forest Avenue. First it was Cafe Esencia, a Spanish cafe that served pisto, pan con tomate, and churros cooked in a massive, traditional deep-fryer. They left in 2019. (Andres, the owner, is now living in Spain. He’s also my Spanish teacher. Ciao Andres!)

For the next 5 years it was Cafe Plein Air, a restaurant that challenged the limitations of the too-small space. In the Covid years, they filled every seat in their heated outdoor dining area. But once the city made it too hard for operators to get permits for “streeteries”, diners had to squeeze inside to get their french omelettes and fantastically-crisp potatoes. They had their last service in March.

Now, Hi-Node is taking its turn in the tiny spot on Forest. Unlike its predecessors, Hi-Node is a grab-and-go concept: There are matcha lattes with seasonal syrups, beautifully-arranged sashima rice bowls, sushi hand-rolls, and onigiri. A pork tonkatsu sandwich is one of the few cooked items on the menu.

In Tokyo, Jiro’s family goes back 4 generations in the sushi business. His grandfather’s surname, Hinode, lends its name to the restaurant (it also translates to “sunrise” in Japanese), and his father ran a sushi restaurant in Tokyo up until his passing. His brother now runs a sushi restaurant in Vegas, while in New York, Jiro had a hand in Soba Totto, Yakitori Totto, and Aburiya Kinnosuke before opening Salt + Charcoal in Williamsburg.

With Hi-Node, the focus is back on fish. The sashimi bowl is simple and fresh: Unlike at MOGMOG in LIC, the rice comes unseasoned. Instead, Jiro gives soy sauce, sesame oil, and wasabi on the side, and tops the bowl with edamame, seasoned shiitakes, seaweed salad, and ikura. It’s a clean lunch, and one that won’t have you lingering on one of the restaurant’s four indoor tables.

I haven’t had a chance to try the karaage, tonkatsu, or grilled-eel bowls, but I did watch Mike Chau devour a wagyu yakiniku rice ball sandwich. I let Jiro know there was an influencer in his front yard, and offered to kick him off the premises. (joking. we like Mike Chau.) - Rob Martinez

📍 Hi-Node
68-38 Forest Ave, Ridgewood, NY 11385

2. The ‘Hot Pastrami’ is reborn in Philly

Behind the paywall: Jacob Does Philly bigs up a classic Jewish deli in Philly, Steven Graf finds a $12 burger at a wine bar, and Pete Candia chases his banh mi high to Montclair.

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Hey, Rob Martinez here. Here are a few things I’ve been liking around the food world this week:

• Tony Tastes discusses the backlash around ElizabethEatsNYC, the Meta-Glasses-Wearing TikToker who some have compared to Anthony Bourdain.

• Matt Rodbard’s conversation with Danny Meyer on This is Taste was fascinating for a lot of reasons—did Union Square Cafe popularize dining at the bar? This is Taste remains the only food podcast I listen to.

• Jonathan Nunn has launched a column called Acid Reflux on Vittles. It spills all of the British tea on restaurants and restaurant-adjacent folks throughout London. I particularly enjoyed the anecdote about one restaurateur declaring he’d drive a Prius into Top Jaw.

• Alvin Zhou has gone ahead and released another classic, this time about Milly’s Pizza in the Pan in Chicago.

• Silvia Barban opened Tortelli, a pasta shop in Brooklyn. My frenemy Julian Mu loved it, but BT Parsons had some issues with service. Silvia’s LaRina in Fort Greene remains my favorite Italian restaurant in New York.

• I am very invested in David Nguyen’s journey to becoming a chef, from Disney to Vietnam to Benu and The French Laundry. This is an artfully done series.

• Time Out Market is opening in Union Square with some familiar faces for fans of my channel: Lori Jayne from Bushwick, Anthony’s Paninoteca from Staten Island, and my current #1 taco in NYC, Taqueria el Chato from Greenpoint and West Village. I heard from a reliable source that at least one of my videos was used in an introductory email.

• Palace Steaks from Philly is popping up in Ridgewood on the 14th. They’re collabing with Mama Yoshi’s Mini Mart and Decades Pizza. I might gotta pull up on this one.

• New York Nico made a better video about Dolly’s Ices than I did, but owner Nicky Rago’s videos are still the king.

• Without further ado, let’s start this round of recs off with the great young food writer, Lindsay Paulen:

1. Three Decades of Dosa in Jackson Heights

After spending $18 on arguably-bad chicken tenders at Citi Field last year, I promised myself that I’d only buy beer and soft serve at Mets games. Luckily, there’s no shortage of incredible food nearby, as Jackson Heights — notably one of the best food neighborhoods in the whole city — is just a few stops away on the 7. That’s how I ended up at Dosa Delight, a no-frills spot that specializes in vegetarian South Indian fare, and, of course, dosas.

In the age of borderline out-of-control reservation culture, it’s always a relief to dine somewhere like Dosa Delight, an inconspicuous spot that’s been around for three decades — long before Resy even existed. Here, it’s the complete opposite: Within moments of coming through the doors, we were seated with menus and had two crisp Diet Cokes in front of us.

All the food we ordered — samosas, chole bhature and pondicherry dosa — was delicious, but it’s no surprise that the dish the restaurant is named after was the best. The dosa itself was crispy perfection, and I loved that I still got hints of tang from the fermented batter. I’m no dosa expert, but this one was phenomenal.

The Pondicherry variety was cut into quarters and filled to the brim with an addicting filling of deeply-spiced masala potatoes, red onions and various herbs. Although the dosa was killer on its own, it also came with sambar, a lentil-based vegetable stew, and a coconut chutney. I preferred the coconut chutney, which added a really nice textural contrast against the otherwise soft dosa thanks to all the grated coconut.

I left stuffed, and the whole meal was around the same price as the two beers and water bottle I bought at the game. Despite a Mets loss, the meal at Dosa Delight made the whole night feel like a win. - Linday Paulen

📍 Dosa Delight
35-66 73rd St, Jackson Heights, NY 11372

Lindsay Paulen is a self-proclaimed food person and writes Lindsay’s List, a twice-monthly Substack that recaps her monthly favorites and chronicles her adventures eating through NYC, from A to Z.

2. Beacon’s Most Prolific Restaurateur is Palestinian

Today, Beacon, NY, has the seductive power to draw hordes of weekenders from the city and coax so much money from their pockets that a marshmallow shop and a world-class chocolatier stay in business. That said, a Palestinian man named Kamel Jamal once told me that when his family operated a gas station in the city, he used to tremble with fear as he walked the day's cash earnings to the bank at the end of the night.

As Beacon changed, Jamal began opening restaurants—a pizzeria nearby, a taco shop, a vegan restaurant, a bakery, a brunch spot, a cannabis dispensary, and, most recently, a barbecue spot. He now operates more food businesses in town than anyone. His best, however, is still Ziatun, where he prepares food from his home.

Jamal was born on the floor of a kitchen in a refugee camp in Jordan. His large family arrived in Beacon before the boom by way of Manhattan and Westchester. Now, they are a fixture in town not just as restaurateurs and friends, but as leading activists against the genocide in Gaza. At city hall meetings, on the street, and in social media, Beaconites hear about how deeply and personally it has affected them. The culture they so fiercely want to protect from annihilation is expressed in the wood-carved benches, the painting of a woman in a field, the music, the instruments, the flags, and above all, the food at Ziatun.

ziatun.beacon

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For years, I’ve been ordering the basics – shawarma, kebab, and hummus - but in the last few months, I have ordered two dishes that have carried me away with every bite. First, the mansaf: a dried fermented yogurt sauce, which you pour from a long-handled tin cup, gives tang to savory, tender lamb chunks, landing in a bed of rice and toasted almonds. Next, the bamia: a warm, bright tomato sauce with chunks of tender okra over rice. You can also add lamb to this. The bamia may be a seasonal menu item, and indeed, it would be best right now, during tomato season. - Mike Diago

📍 Ziatun
244 Main St, Beacon, NY 12508

Mike Diago is an award-winning food writer, home cook, and High School Social Worker living in the Hudson Valley.

Behind the paywall: Steven Graf endorses an exceptional haunt in Brooklyn and Jacob Does Philly discusses the most important food job in Philadelphia. Plus, get access to our Google Map.

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Hey, Rob Martinez here.

Each week, I’ve pulled together a group of writers to give recommendations around NYC, NJ, and Philly. These are all folks I trust, and I’ve given them only 2 directions:

1 - No PR Meals. I want places that have been sought out, scouted, and confirmed to be quality. Not places that everyone is getting invited to.

2 - Write about people, whenever possible.

I feel a fatigue with most food media. Their coverage feels repetitive and limited. And I have a deep disdain for venture-backed companies like the ghost-kitchen-celebrity-chef one, or the coffee-and-matcha-one buying up all the real estate.

Small businesses without those types of resources are at a severe disadvantage. So I want to see less of the PR spots, less about restaurant groups, less about the guy who founded Chipotle. I want to see more dignity, more community, and more compassion. I want deep cuts and heartfelt recommendations. I want to read about people, and food.

This is our north star. Thank you to those who have already bought into the mission. Please let me know what else I can do to make this the best food publication in New York City, and if you haven’t already, consider subscribing.

Also - this week’s newsletter is free!

• Rob

1. The New York Mexican food renaissance continues in Bed Stuy

Whenever I receive a text from Oscar Hernandez, the chef of Wayne and Sons, it’s always about a Mexican delicacy he’s discovered in New York City. This time, it’s a video of him slowly zooming in on the menu at Dolores, until he lands on the words Chicharrón Prensado. Translation: Pressed pork.

This is the 3rd instance of chicharrón prensado we’ve found in NYC, and it seems to be a new phenomenon. The process of making chicharrón prensado involves frying a variety of pig parts in lard, and then pressing them into a block of gelatinous porky goodness. Here’s what that process looks like, if you’re interested.

In Mexico City, I’d often seen this block processed as a red stew, stuffed into tacos de canasta or laid on top of a taco de guisado. But at Dolores, a new cantina-esque Mexican restaurant in Bed Stuy, they are stuffing those pig pieces into a griddled puck of masa from Sobre Masa, along with onion and salsa verde, and then topping it with salty cheese. The resulting gordita is a crispy and fatty bit of business, balanced by the savory corn flavor of the masa and the bright punch of the salsa.

One tip: Ask for the salsa borracha on the side, made with habanero and chiles de arbol that, according to the bartender, have been soaked with mezcal and charred. The salsa improves absolutely everything it touches, including the incredible cochinita pibil tacos, which are stuffed with Yucatecan-style stewed pork and pickled red onions. The stock from the stew penetrates the tortilla, making it taste like a homestyle dish that happens to be plated for a restaurant. It’s on par with the version I had at Coox Hanal, a legendary Yucatecan spot in Mexico City that I have been gatekeeping until right now.

On the way out, I caught up with co-owner Emir Dupeyron, who grew up in CDMX. I grilled him about the chicharrón, and he revealed its source. It’s a 66-year old Mexican woman in New Jersey who makes it out of her factory, and she refuses to deliver it to Brooklyn. For now, Emir’s team is picking it up themselves in person.

It’s worth it. - Rob Martinez

📍 Dolores
397 Tompkins Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11216

2. A Filipino-Jamaican BBQ Spot opens in New Jersey

The second I heard that Bonney’s BBQ—a Filipino-Jamaican pop-up from LA—was opening a brick-and-mortar in New Jersey, I knew I had to get there. So I shot down to Metuchen on a sunny afternoon to give it a shot.

Bonney’s is the brainchild of husband-and-wife duo Damion Chambers and Jeanne Jordan. Damion, who is from Jamaica, combines his knowledge of Jamaican cooking with Jeanne’s Filipino roots. The jerk chicken and pork combo serves as a perfect window into the concept: an authentic Jamaican-style jerk chicken, alongside a Filipino-inspired BBQ pork that still carries a distinctly Caribbean soul.

Let me be the first to tell you… it works, and it works well.

Bonney’s jerk chicken is mind-bendingly good. It sports plenty of charred and smoky skin encasing tender meat, which tears off the bone with ease. On the flip side is the jerk pork, grilled and chopped, offering more bite than its chicken counterpart and a distinctly porky flavor. Emphasizing both textural and flavorful differences, the combo helps to avoid palate fatigue (though, I’m not sure one could get tired of either option on their own). Bonney’s cooks their meat over a mix of hickory and maple wood, which imparts a key flavor for their take on jerk.

Underneath it all is a base of incredibly flavorful rice and beans and a scoop of chopped tomatoes on the side. The rice soaks up all of the chicken and pork juices, evolving as you make your way through the platter. And don’t forget to get a side of vinegar. Bonney’s homemade mixture includes loads of thyme and a touch of Scotch bonnet. It’s zingy, herbaceous and best enjoyed dumped all over the dish—then, grab another side of it for dipping. Now, you’ve entered peak flavor territory. - Peter Candia

📍 Bonney's BBQ
387 Main St, Metuchen, NJ 08840

Peter Candia is the Food & Drink Editor at New Jersey Digest.

3. Smoked Mussels offer a taste of home at this Puerto Rican rum bar

Growing up in Puerto Rico, Chef Yun Fuentes used to watch baseball games on the television with his grandfather whom he called ‘Bolo’. As they’d watch, Chef Fuentes’ grandfather would eat tinned mussels escabeche on saltine-esque crackers - a picture Chef Fuentes vividly remembers to this day.

At Bolo, Chef Fuentes’ Center City restaurant and rum bar, the ingredient quality and attention to detail is improved from the days of tinned mussels, but the idea is very much the same. A mussels escabeche designed as a nostalgic bite in memory of his grandfather.

They source Bang Island Mussels, cleaning and debearding them before smoking and pickling, and infusing in a garlic, coriander, and bayleaf oil with distilled vinegar. The dish is then built with peppers, onions, and more garlic, plus a lemon aioli and some finely chopped herbs. Trade in the soda crackers for tostones, and I can taste the story Chef Fuentes is telling.

Bolo has a large menu with recipes from across the Latin world: a delicious Cubano sandwich, chicharrones, suckling pig dinners, the works. But I go specifically for the ceviches and escabeches, each one telling a different story from Chef Fuentes’ life and culinary career.

The mussels are for his grandfather. The smoked salmon pineapple ceviche uses a technique he learned while doing a Puerto Rican food pop-up in Finland. The snapper Nikkei ceviche is influenced by his time working in sushi restaurants, as well as the influence Japanese immigrants had on Peruvian cuisine.

Bolo is a love letter to Latin food, and one Chef Fuentes writes incredibly well. - Jacob Does Philly

📍 Bolo
2025 Sansom St, Philadelphia, PA 19103

'Jacob Does Philly' is a Philadelphia transplant and food nerd who loves exploring his new community.

4. In Scarsdale, a classic tavern with perfect wings

goodeatswitbaddied

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In the Northeast, we all love or have loved an old wood-paneled tavern where the beer’s served by the pitcher, the wings are good, and the politics, even when veiled, are probably bad.

Whether it’s sports, nostalgia, or rainy weather that makes you pine after a place like this, it’s helpful to know a few outside of your immediate environs. If you ever have reason to venture 20 minutes north of the Bronx to Scarsdale (there’s an H-Mart), you should stop by the Candlelight Inn to experience a perfect iteration of the form. The wood paneling is absolute, covering every surface; there’s a modest craft beer list, but bartenders mostly pull the handle on Yuengling or Coors Light; it’s old (circa 1955); every table hosts at least one Yankee fan or cop (they might be the same person), and, while I’ve never been to Buffalo, I’m not sure anyone anywhere could make more perfect wings.

The wings at Candlelight come whole—the drum and flat still connected—in orders of ten, twenty, or thirty. At other bars, I sometimes order wings extra crispy, overcooked even, so they don’t arrive soggy, but here that’s not necessary. They’re crunchy on the outside and moist on the inside every time. Mild is my order, but the most popular sauce among regulars is a mixture of hot buffalo sauce and teriyaki sauce. It is very good.

It’s not just wings we’re talking about here, though, of course. Places like these, vibes intact, are endangered. The schedule, like the menu and the decor, is a well-preserved relic. Candlelight has been open daily from 11 a.m. to 2 a.m. since Jack Tracy opened the place. Perhaps that’s the reason for their longevity. Well, that and the family’s continued involvement; three generations later, they still follow Jack’s credo: “There has to be a Tracy here at all times.” - Mike Diago

📍 The Candlelight Inn
519 Central Park Ave Scarsdale, NY 10583

Mike Diago is an award-winning food writer, home cook, and High School Social Worker living in the Hudson Valley.

The only thing I’ll put behind the paywall is the link to our Google Map with all of these places pinned. Thanks for reading! - Rob

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“There is no general in the banya,” is what Rustam Zaripov tells me as he takes me through the many saunas of his 45 year-old bathhouse in South Brooklyn. “Because you’re in shorts, and you’re naked. I can’t see if you’re a general, or a movie star.

“Everybody’s equal here,” he declares. He then slaps me with oak branches, pours me kvass, and treats me to one of the better meals of my life.

This is Bath Club of NY. Rustam, a former nuclear engineer who fled Uzbekistan after the collapse of the Soviet Union, has been running it since 1998. I ask him about the rumor that Eastern Promises-style Russian gangsters would meet here. “A long time ago,” he admits. “Because in sauna, 190 degrees, you can record nothing there. No wires. They can speak freely.

“They used to come, talk, have nice food. Then sometimes go to the peace, or sometimes go to the war.”

The Bath Club is dripping in history and condensation. Originally called The Russian Bath of NY, its name was changed after the outbreak of the Ukraine-Russian war (a table of old-timers, called “The Odessa Crew,” seemed to appreciate the name change). Across from the indoor pool is a sports bar, where the jerseys of famous Russian hockey players hang proudly. There are 4 saunas: One for men, one for women, and two co-ed saunas. Inside one of them, I sat with a boxing trainer and his student. He’s training her to qualify for Greece in the next Olympics.

But I came here, if you can believe it, for the food. The cuisine here jumps between post-Soviet countries: Khachapuri from Georgia, varenyki from Ukraine, pelmeni from Russia. House-made pickles are found on nearly every table, effervescent from fermentation.

Above all, my Moldovan friend from Brooklyn suggested I try the kotleti posharsky, a fried chicken meatball that’s hollowed out table-side and filled with an orange mushroom sauce. The mashed potatoes on the side are piped and sit on the plate swirled, like soft serve. Chased with an ice-cold Hofbrau, it is one of the most satiating experiences I’ve had to date.

You can watch the full experience here, and I’ve discussed some of my other thoughts about this place in the subscriber-only chat. As Rustam declares at the end of the video, “This is Brooklyn.” - Rob Martinez

📍 Bath Club of NY
1196 Gravesend Neck Rd, Brooklyn, NY 11229

Rec #2 - Tacos, Empanadas, and Baleadas in Jersey City

I was long overdue for a visit to Jersey City’s Perquín. Chef Bryan Girón’s Paulus Hook restaurant is not shy—the space is scattered with Latin-inspired graffiti and vibrant colors. Frozen margaritas and rum punch sit on nearly every table. On weekends, they clear the floor for salsa classes, where locals dance and drink into the wee hours.

At its core, Perquín reflects Bryan’s travels through Central and South America. His menu pulls inspiration from his childhood, which began in Honduras, before eventually immigrating to New Jersey. He combines this with a years-long devotion to studying the flavors of Latin America as a whole—both the well-known dishes, and the hidden gems.

You taste these influences in every bite. Empanadas are stuffed with seasoned beef, fried to a golden hue, and served with habanero salsa—packed so full it’s a miracle they don’t burst at the seams. A taco special filled with charred octopus, pineapple salsa, crema, and cilantro hits the table—a sort of “Al Pastor goes aquatic” vibe and one of the night’s best bites. Nearby, a basket of Salchipapas stacks hand-cut fries, fried chorizo slices, wagyu hot dogs, an Nduja crema of sorts and bright aji verde. They pair perfectly with a cold Cusqueña or an aged rum daiquiri.

Flour tortillas are the lifeblood of Perquín. Each and every one is rolled to order, which Bryan tells me is “a pain in the ass… but so worth it.” Tender, flaky, and thicker than your typical tortilla, they are ideal for the house-favorite Baleada. The Honduran street food starts simple—with a flour tortilla, refried beans, and salty queso fresco—but Perquín’s version adds plantains, avocado, and sumac onions, bringing a subtle Middle Eastern influence into the picture that can be found across Latin America.

Perquín leans into that influence even more with Tacos Árabes: chicken shawarma, spiced fries, garlicky toum, and sumac onions come rolled in a fresh tortilla, with habanero salsa on the side. Once only found as a special, it’s now a menu staple. Bryan admits he has one for dinner nearly every night, which I do not blame him for even a little bit.

A meal at Perquín unfolds like a travel log. Bryan draws on more than a decade of experience in New Jersey and Manhattan kitchens to showcase his love for Latin food and culture, delivering some of the most unique and flavorful bites you’ll find on this side of the Hudson in the process. I’m hooked. - Peter Candia

📍 Perquín
85 Morris St, Jersey City, NJ 07302

Peter Candia is the Food & Drink Editor at New Jersey Digest.

Behind the paywall: Lindsay Paulen highlights Brooklyn’s exciting new Cambodian restaurant, Mike Diago finds Sinaloan seafood in Passaic, Tony Tastes tries the tuna melt at a wine bar in Manhattan, Jacob Does Philly indulges in a Monday-only cheeseburger in Philly, and Steven Graf heads to Hicksville.

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Hey y’all - Rob Martinez here. I had to travel to the UK this week, so I’m having Jacob Does Philly start off the newsletter. I’m dying to eat at this spot!

Rec 1 - Philly’s 2nd-oldest Chinese restaurant can not be stopped

This past December, seemingly overnight, an excessive amount of steam rose from a sidewalk at the northern edge of Philadelphia’s Chinatown. It kept rising for days, seeping into Sang Kee Peking Duck House’s basement and damaging their electrical panel.

The city eventually fixed the issue—likely a leak in city-run below-sidewalk steam pipes—but in the four days Sang Kee was closed, the city rallied. The closure headlined local news and the storefront was packed in the weeks following their reopening.

That response was not random. It’s befitting of a community institution.

Owner Henry Chow’s father came to Philadelphia in the late 1970’s. Originally from the Guangdong Province of China, he spent a year in a refugee camp fleeing political persecution, before landing in Hong Kong. A former electrical engineer’s apprentice, his father encouraged him to learn a trade before immigrating to the US. This is how he took up roasting ducks.

In 1980, after spending a few years working in other Chinatown restaurants, Henry’s father opened Sang Kee - focused on Hong Kong Style Roast Ducks (featuring a sweeter glazed marinade) and Beijing Style Peking Ducks (with a crispier skin, and served with hoisin, steamed crepes, and spring onions).

As Henry told me, in China these would rarely be served at the same spot. But it just made sense here. Henry’s mother came over soon after, and they ran the restaurant together. A neighborhood institution was born.

Today it stands as the second oldest still-operating restaurant in Chinatown.

They’ve since added other items to the menu - my go-to wonton soup and some sichuan dishes. But real ones know, get the duck hanging in the window. - Jacob Does Philly

.📍 Sang Kee Peking Duck House
238 N 9th St, Philadelphia, PA 19107

'Jacob Does Philly' is a Philadelphia transplant and food nerd who loves exploring his new community.

Rec 2 - The most fun eating experience in NYC right now

The best sit-down restaurant experience that you haven’t been to has no storefront, no waiters, and no water refills.

At Bosom Buddies, what there is, however, is Adrian single-handedly handling orders for every customer; one man grilling a near-unlimited choice of skewers over hot charcoal, completely at zen; rickety tables and plastic stools; and, in my opinion, the most fun eating experience in New York City right now.

Bosom Buddies isn’t doing anything new, throughout all the Chinese enclaves in New York City, (Chinatown, Sunset Park, LIC, Elmhurst, and Flushing) exists the quintessential skewer cart: bits of meat on wooden skewers, grilled over charcoal with the essential chili-cumin spice blend sprinkled over top.

What makes Bosom Buddies special is the symbiotic relationship it has developed with the community. Especially in the summer, as people want to spend their time outside, the space around the skewer cart on Broadway has developed into its own third place. People pull out the store-provided tables and chairs, bring snacks and drinks from other stores, and settle in for a night of feasting. The charred lamb and beef skewers go perfectly with beer from the convenience store across the street, and on weekends you’ll even see bottles of soju bought from the liquor store, sloppily half-hidden inside paper bags. You hear not just Chinese being spoken but also Korean, Bengali, Nepali, Thai, Indonesian, and Burmese. You see families with children nibbling on grilled meat while groups of friends smoke cigarettes into the early hours of the morning. Is it legal? Who cares?

The menu is long, and starting at two dollars a skewer, you won’t break the bank trying everything your heart desires. Beef and lamb are the classic options, but other favorites of mine include enoki mushrooms, grilled with a sweet paste brushed on; beef tendon skewers, savory and gelatinous, which I think pair perfectly with the beef skewer (take a bite of each for the ideal mouthfeel); and chicken gizzard, sweet and crunchy with no organ funk. There are squid skewers, either chopped up or just the tentacles, full of smoky flavor, and grilled garlic eggplant: Chinese eggplant butterflied and topped with a sweet garlic blend, so soft it pulls apart like noodles. Seafood might not be your first thought, but their char-grilled oysters and scallops, served on the shell and topped with cooked vermicelli rice noodles and the same garlic blend will have you reconsider all your preconceptions. Adrian might come over with some slices of complimentary watermelon that he cuts himself when he’s not inundated with orders from the never ending line.

Bring some friends, take a seat, get some beer, grab some snacks, order everything your heart desires. You’ll have a tough time getting up. - Naq Zamal

📍 Bosom Buddies
82-62 Broadway, Elmhurst, Queens

Naq is a Bangladeshi-American Queens Native and member of Jhal NYC, a social entrepreneurship project looking to empower Bangladeshi immigrants through street food.

Behind the paywall: Mehr Singh dishes on Persian food in BK, Johnny Novo takes a coworker’s suggestion for Brazilian food, Mike Diago hits a diner from 1935, and Lindsay Paulen takes us to Long Beach, Long Island.

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When I pull up to Vic’s in Bradley Beach, New Jersey, at 6pm, the line is already out the door. Inside, there’s a wood-paneled waiting room the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was a kid, eating at places like the Sizzler and J&R Steakhouse. It’s standing-room only in there.

For 2 people, the wait is 5 minutes, but most parties are of 4, 6, 8 or more, and carrying birthday cakes. Once I settle in and have a locally-made Pilsner, the table next to me sings for an 80th birthday. The guy who blows out the candles is older than the restaurant, but just barely.

Vic’s has been serving Italian-American classics on the Jersey Shore since 1947. The bread and butter is complimentary; the antipasto salad is massive; the signage is neon. The penne? Baked. After years of searching for it, I am finally, blessedly in the past.

The “bar pizzas” of New Jersey have an almost-mythic status. In places like New Haven, they use billboards to tell you the pizza is good. In New York, the bread nerds ferment their dough for 5 days. But the Jersey bar pie needs no such theatrics. The dough snaps between your fingers like a piano plays a note, loudly and without delay. The cheese is browned, and the grease riding atop it tastes like garlic. Semolina coats the bottom. And they never sell out.

I got half the pie as “the special,” with housemade sausage, peppers and onions, but I’d skip it next time and roll with the cheese pie. Whoever’s cranking them out back there is locked in.

Unless you’ve brought your own birthday cake, stop in afterwards at Callie’s Creamery nearby for some very serious ice cream. I got one scoop of chocolate-covered potato chip, and one scoop of biscoff, then rode home listening to the Boss. - Rob Martinez

📍 Vic’s Italian Restaurant
60 Main St, Bradley Beach, NJ 07720

Rec #2 - Korean Cold Noodles served in an Ice Bowl

I think as humans, we are always innately searching for the most perfect complementary pairs. Which two colors look the best together? Which wine pairs the best with my meal? In this sweltering New York City summer, I argue that there is no better food pairing than a hot and sticky day and a bowl of icy cold noodles.

Tong Sam Gyup Goo Yi, located in Murray Hill, Flushing, might have the most refreshing of these cold noodle options. Their kimchi mul-naengmyeon is served with the classics: an icy beef broth, sliced cucumbers, chewy buckwheat noodles (use scissors to cut these into smaller bite size pieces - trust me it’s safer), bits of kimchi, and half a boiled egg. Bottles of mustard sauce and vinegar are handed to you to customize the amount of kick and acidity you want to add to the cold, savory nectar that is its broth. But it’s the vehicle in which it’s served that separates itself from the pack. This delicious noodle soup is served in a completely solid bowl of ice the size of your forearm. After walking in from a 93-degree day, I can’t imagine a more welcome sight.

In many cases, neangmyeon can be a meal in itself, but Tong Sam Gyup Goo Yi is, at its core, a barbecue restaurant. In a world of perfect pairings, these cold noodles in their ice bowl are meant to be slurped between bites of their crispy and fatty pork belly, carefully cooked over their giant cast-iron grills. A bite of meat, a little radish kimchi, and a few spoonfuls of naengmyeon later, I find myself seeing the beauty of how all things fit together like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. I realize that the right pairing is infinitely better than the sum of its parts, and that perfection is when you’re finally able to put those pieces together. Or maybe perfection is just a bowl of really cold noodles. - Naq Zamal

📍Tong Sam Gyup Goo Yi
162-23 Depot Rd, Flushing, NY 11358

Naq is a Bangladeshi-American Queens Native and member of Jhal NYC, a social entrepreneurship project looking to empower Bangladeshi immigrants through street food.

Behind the paywall: Steven Graf makes the case for aperitivo, Young Kim writes about Korean soul food, Johnny Novo finds a tiny Ethiopian spot, Mike Diago meets a Lebanese refugee-turned-chef, and Peter Candia fights Jersey heat with Sichuan heat.

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Growing up, my mother used to take me to Lakoma Deli in Ronkonkoma for a hot roast beef sandwich. My mother passed away in 2007; Lakoma, in 2025.

It’s poignant, the way food connects you to the past. I feel shorter than the counter when I think about the sandwich, looking up at the menu, looking to see where it was listed. It wasn’t. Often my mother would have to explain exactly how she wanted it, and the people behind the counter would walk out into the deli portion of the store to grab a can of beef gravy. They’d slice the homemade, rare beef while the gravy heated up in the microwave, then place the thin slices on a hero, and finally slather on the gravy before double-wrapping it in aluminum foil.

Sometimes, I’d get it with gloopy, low-moisture mozzarella. The gravy and cheese would cling to the aluminum foil. If the hero wasn’t soggy in my hands, the bread would be so dry it’d get stuck in my chest. I didn’t care, because even a bad sandwich from Lakoma was the best sandwich I could possibly have.

I don’t know where my mother learned about the hot roast beef sandwich. But she loved it, so I did too.

Years later I’d be caught dunking a hero into a plastic tub of gravy at Robert Moses. My friends had stumbled upon me at a beach miles away from the city, one person out of thousands on the sand, and they were shaking their heads: Who the hell brings a roast beef and gravy sandwich to the beach?

I do. And it’s called a hot roast beef. But I can’t get them from Lakoma anymore. Now I get my sandwiches from Babylon Village Meat Market.

If you ever talk to 2nd-generation owner Dave Popp about his family business, the sandwiches aren’t his proudest achievement. “We’re a super high-end, niche butcher shop,” he told me, before listing out his inventory of berkshire pork, dry-aged prime beef, and a5 wagyu. Dave is a butcher before anything; his grandfather was a butcher, his uncle was a butcher, and his father is also a butcher. The store is a shrine to high-quality meat.

But his store’s close proximity to Babylon High School has made it a sandwich destination. Locals come in droves to order “The Lone Star”: fried chicken cutlet, melted american, bacon and BBQ sauce on a roll. Others go for their pastrami on rye. Of course, I go for their hot roast beef.

Like at my hometown deli, there’s no hot roast beef sandwich on the menu. Instead I order the thin-sliced beef with fresh mozzarella on a hero, and a side of gravy. I add on a fat pickle, a bag of chips, and their famous spinach dip, which goes by the name of “green crack.” Then I’m off to the beach.

The quality of this sandwich is much higher than the one I grew up with. It’s not soggy and double-wrapped, the gravy isn’t Campbell’s, the hero isn’t some stepped-on semolina that gets stuck in your chest. The beef is sliced razor-thin, and it’s abundant. The fresh mozzarella doesn’t goop and stick to the paper, it’s clean and salty and delicious. And the bread is griddled until crispy. It’s an exceptional sandwich.

It’s not the same. But it’s exceptional. - Rob Martinez

📍 Babylon Village Meat Market
85 Deer Park Ave, Babylon, NY 11702

Below the paywall: Linday Paulen writes up a red sauce joint from 1907, Peter Candia dishes on his favorite pizza in New Jersey, Naq Zamal heads to Brighton Beach for Uyghur food, Steven Graf eats a dog on the north shore, and Jacob Does Philly discovers a fisherman’s tavern in Cape May.

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