A detail I remember from reading Gabrielle Hamilton’s Blood, Bones and Butter is that at some point during her shift, she strapped her baby on her back and continued working at Prune, the cult restaurant she ran for over 20 years in the East Village. That image has flickered on and off in my brain ever since, especially after having a child myself. 

A woman opening, operating, and cooking in a restaurant while having a child at any point in the process is a story of hard work, resilience, and true love—the good riding alongside the bad. I opened Mina’s at MoMA PS1 when my son was two, so I am no stranger to the experience. If I had to sum it up, it would go something like this: When I was at the restaurant, every cell in my body was yelling through a loudspeaker to Go home! Be with my child! Then when I was with my child, I was popping my gum, twirling my hair, tapping my watch until I could go back to the restaurant. There was no end to things that needed my attention. 

Because the moments I had with my son at the restaurant will forever be some of the hardest and some of the best, I wanted to explore this duality and celebrate with some of the most amazing restaurant mamas in the biz. 

It turns out women raising kids and running restaurants share a few mantras: Stay present, good food is important, and community is everything. 

Donna Lennard, of the Il Buco restaurants in New York and the Hamptons

What’s the most challenging part of having a restaurant and having children at the same time? 

Surely dividing my time between work and family. I was lucky because when Joaquin was born in 2005, Il Buco was already 11 years old.  We had a strong team and we were running well. I also lived above the restaurant and I was able to jump back and forth easily. Clearly, you need time and energy for your little one, so the balancing act continues as they grow. When we opened Alimentari, Joaquin was 5. The juggling act became more complex as the demands of a new ambitious project took time and energy. My husband helped, as did Joaquin’s dad, but there is always the pull to be more present with my child.

What’s been the biggest joy? 

Having the embrace of the Il Buco family around my son—his extended restaurant family both at Il Buco and at his dad’s restaurant and catering [business]. Joaquin got used to being in community at an early age.  He also developed a comfort around people of all ages as well as quite a palate! 

What’s your favorite trick of the trade? 

Living above Il Buco I was able to bring my powerful monitor downstairs as Joaquin slept, and grab a drink or snack at the bar or simply drop in to say hi and keep tabs on my kiddo! 

Does your child have a favorite dish at the restaurant? 

I hired Nacho [Ignacio Mattos] just before giving birth and ate his kale salad everyday up until delivery and all through the breastfeeding months. Joaquin loved it immediately, and it has been his favorite dish ever since!

Does your own mother play a role in your life and in your restaurants? 

My mom was home with us growing up. She started us on TV dinners and SpaghettiOs, but then got impassioned with cooking and took classes and became a great home cook. She was fully present and much like one of us girls—I have two sisters. I’m happy to still have that kind of close relationship with my son, who’s 21. 

Ann Redding, of Thai Diner and Mommy Pai in New York

What’s been the most challenging part of having a restaurant and having children at the same time? 

It’s changed over the years. Leo was born right as we were opening Uncle Boon’s Sister, so back then the challenge was surviving on no sleep while pumping, balancing two restaurants, and taking care of a newborn at the same time. Now that he’s 9, the challenge has shifted more to balancing my time. Matt and I are both workaholics by nature—and honestly by necessity as small business owners—so work can bleed into every hour of the day. The hardest part for me is knowing when to stop and give my son the full attention he deserves.

What’s been the biggest joy? 

He’s worked several events with us and genuinely loves it. At one event he worked on the line for four straight hours and refused to take a break because he “didn’t want to disrupt the team.” He was 8. I was incredibly proud of his work ethic at that moment… Though honestly, I hope he chooses a much easier career path when he grows up

Does your child have a favorite dish at the restaurant? 

He actually has his own item on the kids menu: Leo’s Roti Pizza. He’s extremely proud of it. Whenever his friends come to the restaurant and order it, he lights up. He’s constantly asking me what other kids think of it and whether they liked it.

How does your own mother play a role in your life and in your restaurants?

My mom is an excellent cook and really sparked my interest in food from a young age. We ate most meals at home, and she made almost everything from scratch, so cooking was always a huge part of my life growing up. When we recently opened our Thai fried chicken spot—coincidentally one of my mom’s favorite foods—we named it Mommy Pai after her.

Camille Becerra, former chef of As You Are, Casa Pueblo, De Maria, and more, currently working on opening a hybrid café, provisions line, and research studio

What’s the most challenging part of having a restaurant and having children at the same time? 

Honestly, money. As a single mom, the pressure is real. Chef salaries are modest, especially for women and I wasn’t able to set up savings. So in the in-between moments between restaurant jobs, it was a lot of lentil soup, rice, and beans just to get by. 

What’s been the biggest joy? 

Her palate. She can sense what a dish needs. She eats well and genuinely enjoys food, she treats quality, cared-for food as her birthright.

Does your child have a favorite dish at the restaurant (or at home/past restaurant)?

My daughter became a moules-frites fan for life after one restaurant visit when she was 5 years old. She would approach a table with her hook, “Do you like cats or dogs?” when they answered she would sit right down and ask for a fry and mussel. Everyone was on heavy patrol to prevent this.  

How does your own mother play a role in your life and in your restaurants? 

I was lucky to be from New York, so both of my daughter’s grandparents were nearby. They helped care for her on weekends, and without that support I wouldn’t have been able to keep working or take the time I needed to recharge.

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Theobroma cacao, the scientific name for chocolate, translates to “food of the Gods” in ancient Greek. Since its first recorded discovery in 3300 BC to its first known use as xocolātl (a frothy cacao drink by Mesoamerican civilizations including water, cornmeal, and chili), it has captured our stomachs and minds throughout history.

I love chocolate in all of its forms, yet in a world of dark chocolate enthusiasts I have always erred on the side of milk chocolate. Let my wine be fine and my chocolate be… junky. Bring me the Cadbury, those Dove mini squares, and Tony’s Chocolonely if I’m feeling fancy. And lucky for me, my preference for milk chocolate might not be so bad after all… 

There is a lot to think about when it comes to choosing which chocolate to eat these days and how. It was news to me to learn that cadmium and lead are serious contaminates in dark chocolate until CULTURED’s senior editor, Ella Martin-Gachot, brought it to my attention. (Over a box of chocolates I might add.) According to Consumer Reports, most of our everyday chocolate brands are either high in cadmium, lead, or both. Cadmium contamination is coming from the soil the cacao plant is grown in, while the lead contamination is coming from the air or dust as the beans ferment. Concentrations are especially high in dark chocolate that has higher levels of cacao. 

The list of brands that have higher levels of contamination is vast and long, so here is the list of the brands with the least amount of contamination: Mast, Taza, Ghirardelli, and Valrhona came in relatively low compared to others. (Ghirardelli is one of my favorite brands to bake with, so I am holding onto that with some level of relief.)

Because dark chocolate is often marketed as a health food (natural cocoa is naturally high in antioxidants and flavonoids), my suggestion is to research the brands you eat most often to see if they have been tested. Also, it’s a natural plug for choosing milk chocolate, because concentrations of cadmium and lead are considerably less as the cocoa concentration decreases.

Contamination aside, my other looming chocolate query was on Dutch process cocoa powder vs. natural cocoa powder. I love baking chocolate treats and have always noticed the specification of “Dutch process” without ever knowing what it means or what the difference is?

It turns out Dutch processed cocoa, developed by a Dutch chemist in the 1800s, is treated with “alkali” to increase its pH, which in turn decreases its acidity and gives it a rounder, smoother flavor. The “tang” of natural cocoa powder is mellowed. According to America’s Test Kitchen, it also lends itself to a “rich and moist” flavor when compared to baked goods using natural cocoa. As a rule of thumb, you use Dutch processed in recipes with baking powder and natural cacao in recipes with baking soda (which, essentially, alkalinizes it.)

When you think of the original use of cacao in the Americas, it was for the most part, savory. From the xocolātl drink to present day mole recipes, natural cocoa serves as a spice not a confection. I often use natural cocoa in my sweet baking recipes; I like the tang, and it serves to balance a sweet accompaniment such as whipped cream. With that said, my research into natural cocoa powder was grim, and I hesitate to recommend any brand with confidence. (It would take my own testing lab to be able to do so, so I’ll stick to checking Consumer Reports for now.) At the end of the day, my take away is one we all try to live by: “everything in moderation.” Which is to say don’t stop eating chocolate, but do your research and don’t have it for all three meals every day. 

Thankfully, my favorite ways to eat chocolate happen to naturally be “moderate.” I like my chocolate with a good dose of salt—think chocolate dipped pretzels, chocolate covered caramels, or my ABSOLUTE fave, chocolate with hazelnuts or any form of a Nutella inspired spread on really good bread. Some of my favorite chocolate shops in New York and beyond reflect just that motto, so here’s where I recommend indulging for Mother’s Day and beyond:

Fine and Raw: This is the best chic, hippy-meets-high-quality chocolate vibe. I will never get enough of the chocolate hazelnut spread and the brownie heart bonbons. 

Li-Lac Chocolates: Manhattan’s oldest chocolate shop, founded by a Greek immigrant no less… a classic!

Nunu Chocolates: The sea salt caramels are to die for and will make any human being (especially mom) SWOON. 

Leonidas Chocolate: An artist I used to cook for would gift these chocolates every Christmas. They are so delicious and fancy, a true pampering treat. 

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A little over an hour outside of Lexington, Kentucky, amidst gently rolling emerald hills and spindly forests of American white oak, a 10-year experiment is coming to fruition—finally out of the barrel and through the bottling line.

As a distillery, Maker’s Mark hews close to the traditional. It sticks to its original bourbon recipe—born again after the founders burned the family’s 170-year-old version for a better, balanced blend of corn, soft red winter wheat, and malted barley. Each bottle is still hand-dipped with red wax. The company even makes a point of spelling it the old-fashioned way: whisky, no “e.”

While Maker’s Mark may stay faithful to tradition in its flavor, its distillery is anything but old-fashioned. Small batches of bourbon bubble just a few hops away from artwork by Myers Berg, Brook Forrest White Jr., and Dante Marioni. Casks slowly ferment under a glass amber artwork crafted by Dale Chihuly, a personal friend of Rob Samuels, the managing director of Maker’s Mark—which may be a visitor’s first clue to the unexpected innovations brewing behind the scenes. 

One experiment, dubbed Star Hill Farm Whisky, now in its second year, is the expression of something a long time in the making: a different flavor profile, celebrating nature as the maker, and an ambitious exploration of regenerative agriculture.

Star Hill Farm Whisky is the first wheat whiskey Maker’s Mark has ever produced in its over seven decades. (For all those keeping track at home, all bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon. All bourbon is made from corn, while whiskeys can be made from other grains like rye and wheat. And, 95 percent of all bourbon is made in Kentucky.)

Star Hill Farm Whisky is starkly different to the brand’s flagship bourbon. Its 2026 release has a bolder, stick-to-your-ribs flavor with notes of molasses, fig, and baking spices. But it’s not just its wheat-forward presence that sets Star Hill Farm Whisky apart from its kin. Its release, which fell on Earth Day this year, coincides with a series of environmental initiatives, first envisioned in 2016 and coming to fruition in recent years, designed to advance regenerative agriculture. “My grandparents built Maker’s Mark on the belief that when we invest in the land, it gives back in flavor,” says Samuels.

A big part of this is how the brand sources the ingredients themselves. Factory agriculture leaves an enormous carbon footprint as goods are hauled from one processing facility to the next. All of the corn and wheat that goes into Maker’s Mark whiskey is grown within 30 miles of the distillery where everything is milled, cooked, fermented, distilled, and bottled in the same location—estate-grown and certified. Oenophiles will find the process familiar, but terroir and provenance is newer language for the whiskey set, gaining momentum, as organizations like Estate Whisky Alliance can attest.

The brand has also gone out of its way to prioritize partnering with farms that engage in regenerative practices. While monocropping and industrial agriculture strip the soil of its nutrients, reducing the amount of potential harvests that can be extracted from the land and requiring the use of heavy-duty chemical fertilizers, regenerative agriculture balances the nutrient contents of soil. Last year, Maker’s Mark launched its own Regenerative Alliance, a network of farms now spanning over 60,000 acres, all committed to certified regenerative practices.

Of course, making a commitment to regenerative agriculture is one thing—following through is another. But the process of making whiskey is an unusually patient thing. Each barrel of Maker’s Mark is aged for at least and approximately seven years. On such an expansive timeline, the whisky maker is well-positioned to slowly but surely lead the industry to a more sustainable future. 

All of Star Hill Farm Whisky’s wheat is already produced using regenerative practices. Maker’s Mark aims to have its entire output certified by the end of 2030. What began formally in 2016 (philosophically, when the brand was born in 1953) is bearing fruit as the company makes an intentional shift towards healthier soil, ecological restoration, and therefore better flavor from nature. 

It seemed serendipitous that Star Hill Farm Whisky 2026 debuted the same week as the recent Keeneland Spring Meet—held at the legendary race course that attracts lovers of all things equestrian—may be the only thing more Kentucky than a bourbon clinking on the rocks. The two partners, which have been working together since 1958, continue to prove that legacy can be forward-looking—stewarding land and community toward a more sustainable future.

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After winning multiple James Beard awards and popularizing the concept of small-plates dining, José Andrés could have rested on his laurels. Instead, he has fed millions of people in disaster areas and war zones as the founder of World Central Kitchen—and been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (twice).

What do you think is your biggest contribution to culture?

For more than 30 years I have been saying that I think every single American should be cooking paella in their backyard, and we are forever getting closer to that goal. With my new cookbook Spain My Way coming out in just a few months, I think even more people will be excited to make paella for themselves!

What’s one work of art that got you through an important moment in your life?

Many times in the face of disaster and devastation, I think of the great words of John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath: “Wherever there’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there.” That is the heart of World Central Kitchen: We will be there. 

What keeps you up at night?

How is it possible that we are spending so much money on what they call “defense spending” and not making sure that humanity can feed itself? With only a small percentage of the U.S.’s defense budget, we could feed every single person on Earth. How could that not keep us all up at night?

When you were little, what were you known for?

As a boy, I was the one who would be helping my father make paella on the weekends for our friends and family. I would beg him to let me cook the paella, but he always put me in charge of tending the fire. “First, you must learn to control the fire,” he would say. That is the foundation of everything.

What are you looking forward to this year?

Joining my friend Spider-Man in the Marvel Universe! It is unbelievable to be on the same pages as my heroes in Meals to Astonish #1. I keep waiting for someone to tell me this whole thing is a prank.

Where do you feel most at home?

Scuba diving in the sea, floating with the creatures around me. To be weightless is the most extraordinary feeling.

When’s the last time you laughed hysterically?

Probably with Stephen Colbert. He is one of the funniest people on earth. 

What would you wear to meet your greatest enemy?

Empathy.

What grounds you, and what invigorates you?

My girls. I have three strong, beautiful, wise daughters who don’t let me get away with anything!

To read more from the 2026 CULT100 honorees, see the full list here.

You first knew him as a boy wonder. With four restaurants under his belt by the age of 27, it’s clear Flynn McGarry’s ambition is going nowhere—and neither is his knack for an overhaul. He turned the wine bar that made him a downtown New York staple into a coffee shop and translates produce grown in Isabella Rossellini’s Long Island garden into California-inflected fare at Cove. 

What’s been the hardest part of your career so far?
The last few years of determining a growth direction have been very hard. As our team grows, the decisions I make are now for a much larger group of people, which adds significantly more weight to each decision.

What grounds you, and what invigorates you?
Eating in a nice restaurant grounds me. Being on a farm surrounded by produce invigorates me.

What are you looking forward to this year?
This year, I’m really looking forward to cooking through all of the seasons at Cove. We had a pretty rough winter, and it has been very limiting creatively. I’m excited to start from scratch in spring and allow the year to shape what we do. 

What do you want to see more of in your industry? Less of?
I would love to see more individuality, more restaurants that feel unique to the people working there. Less restaurants that feel geared to general interest. It’s hard to move against the grain, especially in New York, but my favorite restaurants have always felt personal over cultural. 

Name an influence of yours that might surprise people.
Dries Van Noten. I spent some time with him years ago, and the way he looks at clothes, gardens, spaces, and their colors really broadened my view.

What question do you ask yourself most often while you’re making work?
Is this worth the work? And the answer has usually steered me in the correct direction.

Where do you feel most at home?
The beach or my bathtub.

What would you like the headline of your obituary to be?
“Solved as Many Problems as He Could.”

What would you be doing if you weren’t working in your field?
I would love to work in design and architecture. It is already something I sort of do, but I would love to see what it would be like to fully immerse myself in that.

To read more from the 2026 CULT100 honorees, see the full list here.

Every so often, a New York restaurant comes along and makes people genuinely happy. Beloved pop-up chef Sunny Lee laid down roots with Sunn’s in 2024, and the pint-sized Chinatown eatery has been dishing out infectious vibes and incantatory fare that takes Korean classics around the world and back ever since.

Name an influence of yours that might surprise people.

Nikola Jokić, center of NBA’s Denver Nuggets. How that man plays basketball is how I would want to run a kitchen. He’s an unbelievable shooter, and a dancer on the court. But his true talent is making his whole team better by integrating all the players and utilizing their skills. Nobody in the league has more assists and rebounds than Jokić.

What do you think is your biggest contribution to culture?

My talent to express myself while creating an environment that allows those around me to also express themselves freely. I love to be surrounded by creative people, but I detest the idea that they are simply mirroring my own ideas. I think about how Sunn’s came to be, and I think the worst ideas were the ones I came up with on my own with complete confidence, and the best ideas were the ones that our team pushed out together after a series of adjustments and conversations.

When you were little, what were you known for?

I’ve always carried a little snack in my pocket with me, just in case I needed one. As a 5-year-old, I would have a little bag of Goldfish. Now, 39-year-old me has emotional support chocolate in my coat pocket at all times.

What do you want to see more of in your industry? Less of?

I want to see more restaurants opened by passionate people looking to serve their community, and less restaurants opened to make rich people richer, with no personal point of view.

What would you be doing if you weren’t working in your field?

I would have tried to become a ceramicist, wooden spoon whittler, textile weaver, medieval historian, or food writer.

What’s been the hardest part of your career so far?

The hardest thing about my career is that “Is this working?” and “This is working,” look exactly the same about 80 percent of the time.

What keeps you up at night?

I work in restaurants! As a chef, I’m stimulated at work until past midnight every night, so it will often take several hours to calm my body and mind down to a place of rest. I’ll often do New York Times crosswords or try to read when I get home from work with no TV or music on. Gone are the days of going out all night and drinking after work.

What question do you ask yourself most often while you’re making work?

Can I do this faster, more efficiently, and in one less step?

Where do you feel most at home?

Is it boring to say, at home? [My husband] Mike and I will walk over to our favorite local bar and have a Guinness, and then come home, listen to records, and “sound bathe” until we fall asleep on the couch.

Who do you call the most?

Most consistently, FaceTiming my two nephews, Miles (4) and Charlie (2). I have to know what they’re up to (always eating something while running around), or what they’re playing with (legos, cars, Pokemon).

To read more from the 2026 CULT100 honorees, see the full list here.

Everyone in New York’s got an opinion on pizza. Scarr Pimentel’s slice is more beloved than most. Since 2016, the native New Yorker has been slinging pies on Orchard Street at Scarr’s, unafraid to call out the restaurant groups pricing out other mom-and-pop shops. Last year, he opened a stall in a Las Vegas food hall and published his first cookbook.

What is your biggest vice? Your greatest virtue? 

Playing blackjack is probably my greatest vice. Greatest virtue would be being loyal, almost to a fault. I go above and beyond to help people. It’s the New York in me. 

What’s something people get wrong about you? 

People tend to assume I’m condescending, rude, etc. Those are people that don’t know me. I’m a well-guarded person and tend to keep to myself. Had to be growing up here in NYC. If you’re genuine and nice, I’ll put my guard down. You can’t BS me though, so don’t even try. 

What do you want to see more of in your industry? Less of? 

I would love to see more genuine and honest people with morals and ethics. That’s kinda disappeared in our industry. There’s still some real ones left, fortunately. Less, for sure, would be VC/PE-owned fake mom-and-pop restaurants/fast-casual spots. Also, owners who bend over and pay foodie influencers. It just ruins the vibes and environment.

What’s been the hardest part of your career so far? 

Staying true to yourself and not giving in to foodie clique/media pressure. I blazed my own trail. Never kissed ass or begged for favors. 

What grounds you, and what invigorates you? 

My family and friends ground me. They always keep it real with me, whether I like it or not. They’re not scared to tell me the truth. My son is my true motivation now. I never want to disappoint him. 

Where do you feel most at home? 

Right now, Japan. Have been going for years now and the people are great. I feel at peace there.

When’s the last time you laughed hysterically? 

Daily. I think that’s a big key to a long and fruitful life. I’m fortunate to have a group of friends from all over the world that have a good sense of humor. It’s always jokes with us. 

What would you like the headline of your obituary to be? 

“One of the realest n****s to ever live.”

What would you be doing if you weren’t working in your field? 

Most prolific drug dealer you’d probably would’ve never heard about. I’m joking, haha.

To read more from the 2026 CULT100 honorees, see the full list here.

After making his name at Sydney’s Momofuku Seiobo, last spring Paul Carmichael opened Kabawa—the hospitality group’s first New York restaurant in six years. The Barbados-born chef has since turned the East Village hotspot into an experimental love letter to the Caribbean.

What do you want to see more of in your industry? 

More collaboration. If restaurants and hospitality workers of all levels could at least work towards having one voice, that would be amazing. We’re a grossly underpaid sector that is a huge part of the economy.

What’s one work of art that got you through an important moment in your life?

I want to use my dad here, to be honest. If it wasn’t for some sage advice from my father, I never would have moved to Sydney, and if I had never moved to Sydney, I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in now. So, thanks Pops, you’re my book of inspiration. 

What would you like the headline of your obituary to be?

“Avid Dog Lover Dies Peacefully in His Cellar Full of Rare and Expensive Wine. Too Bad He Couldn’t Drink It All With Friends and Family.”

What are you looking forward to this year?

Growing with my team and watching Kabawa mature so we can share more of the Caribbean culture through food and hospitality.

What keeps you up at night?

Thinking of a road to retirement, and my tiny bar that I’ll open when I want to (eight-person venue, max).

What do you think is your biggest contribution to culture?

Not really sure if I’m contributing to culture, but I am providing a space that highlights and celebrates a specific culture. The goal is to make that more recognized and appreciated globally.

What’s something people get wrong about you?

The NFL has snubbed me for years. They could have had an excellent wide receiver. Still not too late, Pats!

Where do you feel most at home?

Wherever there’s a bed and temperature control.

What is your biggest vice? Your greatest virtue?

My biggest vice is probably the same as my greatest virtue, which is being obsessive over work. I’m a true workaholic, and it’s what’s gotten me so far, but also has limited my availability to be with the people I love. 

What’s been the hardest part of your career so far?

While this career has been incredibly joyous and gratifying, nothing that is good comes easy. My whole career has been a series of failures and hardships that have led me to learn and improve to find success.

To read more from the 2026 CULT100 honorees, see the full list here.

Do you enjoy your côte de boeuf with a side of Calder? Perhaps you are more in the mood for lobster with an accompaniment of Les Lalanne?

Lovers of art and food can have both appetites sated at Marcel, which became the hottest table at the Upper East Side as soon as it opened on April 17. The restaurant occupies the lower level of Sotheby’s new home at the famed Marcel Breuer building. (While the establishment’s name primarily winks at the building’s architect, it also evokes the trickster artist Duchamp, currently the subject of a major MoMA show across town.)   

Led by design duo Roman and Williams in partnership with the auction house, the project brings together several worlds at once: art, design, commerce, and dining. Descend into the space and the room resolves into walnut-paneled walls, low light, and an open kitchen at its center. A pâtisserie operates alongside it, and the wine list is drawn from Sotheby’s own collection, allowing guests to purchase bottles they encounter during their meal.

At the center of it all is chef Marie-Aude Rose, who also oversees the Roman and Williams property La Mercerie downtown. She describes Marcel’s menu as “continental,” a framework that allows for both discipline and range, rooted in French technique but open to influences that reflect the building itself. Marcel Breuer’s Hungarian background surfaces in dishes like chicken paprikash, while others nod more loosely to history and memory.

Here, Rose discusses how the restaurant took shape.

Marcel sits inside a Breuer building. How did the architecture shape the way you thought about the menu?

Not so much the architecture, but the architect. Marcel Breuer was Hungarian, so we brought some of those culinary traditions onto the menu, dishes like chicken paprikash. The menu is “continental” with a French emphasis, but that influence felt important.

How does your approach at Marcel differ from your work at La Mercerie?

Being on the Upper East Side, in a neighborhood where French culinary tradition already has a strong presence, I wanted to lean more into the spirit of a classic brasserie than we do downtown, but without being confined by it. Calling the menu “continental” allows for a broader range of influences. 

The idea is to create something people can return to often, multiple times a week, even multiple times a day. It’s generous and adaptable, which you see in the “Que voulez-vouz” section, where guests can choose how they’d like their meat or fish prepared. The dishes are straightforward, but grounded in the rigor of French technique. 

How do you decide when to stay faithful to tradition and when to push it? 

The Terrine de Boeuf Mode is very classic, both in technique and tradition. On the other hand, something like a lobster bisque with turmeric and ginger is more unexpected. But even those combinations are not entirely new. French cuisine has long been shaped by the spice trade and colonial influences. What may seem untraditional often has its roots in that history. 

What role does the open kitchen play in how you cook or present dishes?

I don’t really think about it. I’ve been working in open kitchens for the past 20 years, so it’s simply how I work.

If someone only orders one thing and a glass of wine, what would you want them to have?

Escargots and Chablis. It is my go-to in Paris, any time of the day.

The wines are from Sotheby’s collection. How does that collaboration work?

It gives us access to an exceptional selection and creates opportunities for guests to experience very special wines during their meal. If they discover something they love, they can immediately order a case to take home, which is quite unique.

The pâtisserie component feels like its own thing entirely. How did you and pastry chef Rae Gaylord think about the role of pastry within the larger experience?

Rae and I opened La Mercerie together in 2017, where she was the pastry chef for four years. Since then, Robin [Alesch] and I have dreamed of making a pâtisserie as its own destination, centered around the pastries and viennoiseries Rae developed during that time.

Marcel felt like the right place to do that. The architecture is quite intense, and the design of the room leans masculine, so the patisserie introduces a sense of softness and delicacy. 

You’re drawing on your Parisian roots while cooking in a very New York context. What’s the biggest difference between New York diners and Parisian diners?

In Paris, diners tend to accept the menu as it is. In New York, guests often want things their own way. 

In France, we approach food, especially with children, very differently. There is one meal. If you don’t like it, you don’t eat it, but we don’t adapt the dish. It’s about educating the palate. 

What role does art play in the menu or dining experience? What artists or artworks served as inspiration?

Claude Monet has always been my favorite painter. When I visited his home in Giverny, I found myself imagining dishes that might belong on the Marcel menu. 

The blue kitchen and the yellow dining room stayed with me. They inspired the lobster with turmeric sauce. In France, we have blue lobsters, and a sauce with subtle curry notes felt like a natural expression of that memory. 

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Downtown New York restaurants serve up scenes as readily as they sling entrees out the kitchen. Keith McNally mastered the recipe in the ’90s, opening Balthazar, Pastis, Pravda—rooms that were more social infrastructure than simple places to eat. You went for dinner, but you stayed for everything that happened around it.

Tribeca, for all its square footage and expense, hasn’t quite held onto the lineage. There are still anchors like Frenchette, Locanda Verde, and the ever-booked Odeon, but the sense of movement, of one place bleeding into the next over the course of an evening, is hard to come by in the area.

George McNally is ready to change that. The 22-year-old son of the legendary Balthazar restaurateur is opening his first project this June. The restaurant, cheekily named Faux, is an enormous undertaking. But George, who grew up in his father’s restaurants coloring with crayons in booths, hoisting furniture during build-outs, and shaking drinks behind the bar, feels up to the task. He’s so confident, in fact, that he didn’t take a single penny from the family business.

Stretching over two floors on Church Street, Faux’s upstairs dining room will seat 50 to 60 under high ceilings; downstairs will offer a more intimate, vaulted space with its own entrance and a shorter menu for late-night dining. The kitchen will be led by New York-born and raised chef Kristina Ramos, who comes to Faux from the acclaimed kitchens of Eleven Madison Park and Oxalis. Her approach will hew close to the French classics, unpretentious and served to be shared in a social setting. The space itself follows a similar feel, with custom crown moldings and homey salvaged furniture. It’s still under construction, but the shape of it is already becoming clear, sometimes literally sketched on the walls in pencil.

For George, the project is as much about process as it is about outcome. The name is a joke at his own expense—“might as well beat them to the punch,” he says—but it also reflects the awareness of what it means to open a restaurant under the weight of a local legacy, and the decision to do it anyway. Here, he talks us through the thought process. 

You walked me through the space earlier. How do you want it to feel when it all comes together? 

Upstairs, we’re keeping the high ceilings but restructuring how the room works. When you walk in, you should be able to make eye contact with the bartender straight away. At Balthazar, where I worked at the bar, we used to pull people away from the dining room; if someone was waiting for their table, you’d catch their eye, give them a little wave, and they’d come over for a drink instead. The ceiling upstairs is grand, so we’re leaning into that, installing large lights you’ll be able to see from the street in front of the Roxy. It’ll seat around 50 or 60.

Downstairs is more intimate and will be a clubby bar. We’re lowering and vaulting the ceiling so it curves, which makes it feel slightly cavernous. Have you ever seen photos of Pravda, my dad’s bar from the ’90s? There were multiple ways in. We’re doing something similar. There’s a staircase from the restaurant and a separate entrance from the street. Those pathways are important for how people move through the space. There’ll also be a small pass-through window by the bar, with a shorter menu like those clubs from the ’80s where you’re dancing but still having chips or something. It just makes for a better night, I think.

Why Tribeca?

Tribeca could become great. It used to be cool, but now it’s become more residential, a bit stagnant. It just doesn’t feel like there’s enough happening to make people want to stay out here. 

The difference is, if you go out somewhere like Spring Street, around Crosby and Bowery, you see the same faces all night. You pop into one place, then another, step out for a bit, and you’ll run into someone you saw earlier somewhere else. That overlap is what makes it interesting.

Around here, I don’t really see that happening. It’s all quite segmented. No one at Walker’s is going to Paul’s Baby Grand. Frenchette has its own crowd—Macao too. I like all of those places, but they don’t really mix. There isn’t a proper watering hole where everything comes together. I’d like Faux to be somewhere where those different groups all end up in the same room, a sort of go-to place for the area.

What are the things you’ve been super particular about?

Everything. We’re very specific about the plaster work on the walls. Lighting is maybe the most important thing in a restaurant, or at least for the feel. Most of the place is custom millwork. Some of the furniture has been salvaged from antique warehouses or storage units. Even the artworks on the walls are all going to be done on-site by artists. No artwork is outsourced. We’ve put a lot of thought into the sconces as well. They’re inspired by Lucky Strike, originally done by Lynn Wagenknecht, my dad’s ex-wife. They have these collaged elements that gave them a really hands-on feel.

A lot of those crafts are harder to find now. It’s all big companies doing multiple jobs at once. That kind of real expertise feels like it’s disappearing a bit, so I’m trying to find people who are very good at one thing. You can see when someone’s cut corners. Something might look great at first—nice walls, good lighting—but then the bar top feels cheap, and it throws everything off. Once you start building your own, you start noticing it everywhere.

Can you tell me about the name of the restaurant?

It’s going to be called Faux. When you’re doing something like this for the first time—I don’t know if it ever really goes away—but you do feel a bit like a fraud. At the end of the day, what I’ve grown up around is English people making French restaurants in America, and here I am doing the same. It feels natural in one sense, but I still have that feeling. I’m also sure people are going to give me a hard time through this opening, so I thought I might as well beat them to the punch and make fun of it myself.

How did you know Faux was the one?

I just liked how it looked. I like those kinds of letters—X’s, Y’s, things you don’t see that often in names. I’m sure people will pronounce it differently, like “fox,” but that’s sort of the point. No one really knows French anyway.

How would you describe the food, beyond just calling it French? 

Unpretentious. Just good food. Something nostalgic, something easy. Everything now feels very out there, almost too out there. A lot of places feel like they have to do something shocking or extreme. It’s better to just do something really well. Maybe you push something slightly, add your own little twist, but you can’t do things with the sole intention of surprising people. Classic recipes exist for a reason. There’s a history to them, and that’s something that should be looked after.

I don’t like tableside performance either. Someone building your tartare for three minutes while you have to stop your conversation is just extremely uncomfortable. If you want someone cooking in front of you, go to Koreatown.

How will it compare to the places you grew up around?

It will be a little lighter than a traditional French bistro. I want it to be very social, shared plates, somewhere that you go to for the atmosphere, but then I want the food to exceed expectations and surprise. I’ve given our chef, Kristina Ramos, a lot of freedom since we’re very aligned on how the food should be. The only thing I really insisted on was having a burger. There should always be a burger. Not a smash burger, a proper one.

Can you tell me a bit about your childhood? What was it like growing up in restaurants?

I grew up in restaurant booths with crayons or sitting in on tastings. I’d be given small tasks on site during build out, and you just pick things up that way. There are things that come up now that I realize I know just from having been in those environments. I definitely looked up to my dad but also to the people around him, some of whom I work with now. I always thought Ian McPheely, who co-designed Balthazar and Pastis, was a genius. Now I’m working with him. Richard Lewis was the architect on a lot of my dad’s places, and now I’m working with his son, Zach Lewis, who’s fantastic.

What do you think your dad understands about restaurants that other people don’t?

My dad has a very high attention to detail. It’s also about having a set of principles—how you work, how you deal with people, where you draw the line in different situations. A big part of it is building an illusion that holds together. It’s less about getting everything right and more about not getting anything wrong. One thing that breaks the feeling can undo everything very quickly.

Do you think he’ll criticize the space?

Yeah, definitely. He already has. My dad came by the space and thought it was a bit boring, but one can always find something wrong with everything. He did write something about it on Instagram, though, which I think was his way of saying he’s proud.

How much have you leaned on other people while putting this together?

It’s been quite important to me to do this on my own. The best way to learn anything, at least in my experience, is to actually do it. You try it, struggle with it, and figure it out as you go. Even if this place is a total flop, I’ll have learned the entire process. You don’t really understand something unless you go through every step of it. There’s probably a part of me that wants to prove something as well. People will always say I’m only able to do this because of my background. That’s just how people are. But for the people I actually care about, I want them to see that I’m really trying, and that I’m doing it properly, in my own way.

How did you feel about your dad’s memoir I Regret Almost Everything?

I went through phases. At first, I felt slightly confused by it, but it was important to him so I wasn’t going to criticize it. When it came out, I was still working at the bar, and I was worried people would come in and treat me differently. Some people tried to buy me drinks because they felt bad, which was a bit strange. I also didn’t like that people who didn’t know me would suddenly feel like they did. I didn’t want to be seen as a character from a story. When people really like a book, they start to see things that way. 

When you look ahead five years, what kind of restaurateur do you want to be? 

I have no idea, honestly. I’ll have to see what actually makes a great owner since there isn’t really one model. Some people are very good at working the room, and others stay more in the background and create a kind of mystery. It’s interesting how people start to associate a space with a person. Sometimes it happens naturally, and sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. You can try to force it, but if you try too hard to make it about you, it won’t work. I’d also like to do other projects, so I’ll probably be here four or five days a week at the beginning, but not forever.

When you picture opening night, what do you see?

We’re planning to do three or four opening nights, staggered. One will be friends and family, another more like a VIP night, and one focused on the people who worked on the project and their families. I’ll be there for all of them. I’m still deciding whether I’ll work the bar or be on the floor. I might try different roles on different nights. I think a couple of them will be packed with really interesting people. It might end up being more scene-y than I’d ideally want, but that’s part of it.

What about the crowd?

Only really attractive people. Kidding! It should be a good mix. I really like the crowd I have at the bar at Balthazar, and I think that will translate. The people who come once or twice a week, I want them to feel like they can do that here as well. I try to keep the ecosystem balanced across different ages. It’s much more fun that way. You never want to go somewhere where it’s all one type of person. Even if it’s a young, hip place, if it’s only young, hip people, it gets a bit dull. What I like is when different scenes come together. When that happens, something actually forms. That’s what I’m hoping for.

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