It’s an exceptionally rare event when a NYC restaurant comes back from the dead, not least after five years. So it’s quite unusual that Pastis, which choked on the real estate boom it had helped cultivate in 2014, reopened across the street from its original post earlier this month. The resurrected relic now implores us to relive the early aughts, whether we like it or not.
Keith McNally’s restaurants rarely close; some might say they’re institutional to downtown life. The vibe master has shuttered fewer restaurants than he’s opened (Pravda, Schiller’s, Bar Mulino, Cherche Midi are the only ones I can recall) with classics like Lucky Strike, Balthazar and Cafe Luxembourg all holding strong after decades.
When I heard about Pastis’s return, I recalled the other Keith McNally openings that had marked various periods of my life in NYC.
When I moved to New York in the summer of 2004, Schiller’s was the hot spot of the moment. I don’t remember eating a single thing there but I do remember getting wasted on rosé. I have even murkier memories of descending to the subterranean vodka bar, Pravda, in the summer of ‘05. It apparently closed in 2016, but I hadn’t really thought about it since 2008.
Me and my friend Natalie at Schiller’s in 2005
I moved into my first solo apartment, a shitbox of a West Village studio on Waverly Place in August of 2006, around the same time I started working at Eater. A few months later, Morandi opened just down the street from me at the corner of Waverly and Charles, and the blog hyped the opening like it was the second coming. I ate there only a few times for brunch and various hangs while I lived on the block. Despite the opening buzz, it was never the scene that his French-inspired places had become, at least in my experience. And the food was good, not great.
I also brunched at Balthazar from time to time during these years as well. And I slurped down oysters and perfect French fries there shortly after my culinary school final.
Balthazar is a close cousin to Pastis. Both give you the feeling that you are somewhere in Paris, and both pay homage to French classics like steak frites and frisée aux lardons. Keith McNally has essentially opened the same restaurant 6 times over the past 30 years. But, let’s face it, he’s still the man.
In its heyday, Pastis was featured on Sex and the City, referred to as “the only restaurant that seemed to exist” by lead character Carrie Bradshaw. None of that will matter to you if you are under 30 years old.
My memories of Pastis are hazy at best as well. Despite living within a 7-minute walk, I rarely visited. I always felt like a fly on the wall. And French classics have never held a special place in my heart. Nearby, Amy Sacco-owned nightspots percolated alongside one-name clubs like Lotus, Tenjune, & Cielo.
Pastis was the first restaurant that effectively gentrified the Meatpacking District. When it opened in 1999, the area was still home to actual meatpackers, trannie nightclubs and outlandish concepts like a “bra bar” called Hogs & Heifers. One of the first stories I worked on as a nymph of a journalist was all about the closing of Florent Diner, a marvelous late-night hangout for artists, partiers, punks, and other outcasts. It was the beating heart of the neighborhood.
It’s now a Madewell.
The fashion boom that made the Meatpacking a “destination” also killed it. When designers like Stella McCartney and Diane Von Furstenberg moved in, it drove rents up, and eventually the grit of the OG meatpacking went with it.
Pastis 2.0 shares much of the original’s DNA: the subway-tiled walls, leather booths, globe light fixtures, and vintage mirrors. I can’t remember much about the original menu other than the steak frites. And that everything seemed to come with a gravy boat of béarnaise. My two recent lunches there seemed decidedly less béarnaise-y.
Stephen Starr partnered up with McNally on the relaunch, which was nice to hear. After McNally’s stroke, he lost investors and Starr swooped in to save the day. Starr himself was also a pioneer of the area, opening Morimoto and Buddakan (other “Sex and the City restaurants”) a few blocks north back in the early aughts as well.
Outside the new Pastis, cement trucks and drills drown out any al fresco conversations happening on the outdoor patio. They’re just fixing the old cobblestone, but it struck me as symbolic in some way. The noise of the new Meatpacking District makes enjoying anything about the old one increasingly difficult. Packs of tourists will hurry past your table toward the High Line and the Whitney Museum.
The burger at the new Pastis is very good. It’s mustard-laden in the same style as In-N-Out burger. I see Starr’s influence here, as the burger at Cali-inspired Upland is of a similar ilk. It has two thin patties laced with cheese, and is garnished with just the right amount of onion, pickle and special sauce, enclosed by a sesame seed bun. Basically, it’s a gussied up smashburger.
The burger at Pastis
The fries at Pastis have always been a signature item, and they remain unmarred by the passing time. Instead of a béarnaise boat, a ramekin of aioli seems much more appropriate. The raw seafood is also high-quality, especially the oysters. I had a very passable chicken sandwich the other day as well as a bite of French onion soup. But I still need to have a proper dinner here and dive into the steak frites menu. I rarely eat food that’s this heavy anymore, though. Does anyone?
Everyone seems happy to have Pastis back, and I’m certainly not complaining about it. But there is something a tad “why bother?” about the whole thing, I have to admit. The Meatpacking now has the feeling of a giant outdoor mall — with neighbors like Sephora, Restoration Hardware, Apple, and Hermès — a far cry from my earliest memories of it. What made Pastis exciting in the first place was that it was an oasis of luxury set against a gritty backdrop, now it’s just another name in the mall directory. But a lot has happened in the last 15 years. And with the incredibly stressful times we live in now, I’ll happily take a piece of 2004 anywhere I can get it.