At HAGS in New York City, Fine Dining Takes on a Queer Twist

When a restaurant that identifies as queer opens in a queer neighborhood of a queer-friendly city, does it truly embody queerness? The answer might be yes, no, and perhaps queerness encompasses a broader, more radical concept that can nourish everyone.

While enjoying a six-course dinner with friends at HAGS, an explicitly queer fine-dining venue in New York’s East Village, I found myself reflecting on identity and the significance of physical space. The East Village, while not the quintessential gay haven like the West Village, sits on its outskirts and serves as a historical hub for more alternative, punk queers. Opening a gay bar may be straightforward—if you’re a man looking to meet other men, the Cubbyhole is a more effective choice than a sports bar in Midtown. However, fine dining isn’t about mingling; it’s about sharing exquisite meals with friends. So, was my vegan dish of delectable stuffed morels implicitly or explicitly gay?

Philosophically intriguing as this may be, on a practical level, I simply care about the food at HAGS, which is outstanding. Chef Telly Justice, who specializes in vegan cuisine, has crafted two six-course tasting menus—one vegan and one omnivorous. Dining with a group allowed us to share both, and while the omnivore dishes were amazing, the vegan offerings expanded my culinary horizons. My first course featured fava beans topped with perfectly thin kohlrabi slices, resembling little hats. One dish included nasturtiums and tofu, but the highlight was a flawlessly seasoned artichoke heart, leaving my table in awe as if we were encountering this vegetable for the first time. Even as someone who typically dislikes uni, the uni dish on the omnivore menu—paired with sour cream and onion spaetzle, and garnished with baby fiddleheads and Brussels sprouts—was unforgettable.

Naturally, dining here isn’t inexpensive. HAGS is a fine dining establishment, known for serving lengthy meals in a cozy space with limited turnover. However, I have two observations regarding this. First, many high-end tasting menus often leave me questioning their price, but HAGS’s omnivore menu ($150) and vegan menu ($140) provide ample portions alongside abundant artistry that truly justifies the cost, especially for those willing to indulge. Moreover, as a gesture of inclusivity—an essential aspect of queerness—HAGS frequently holds no-reservation Sunday night dinners where patrons can pay what they can. Those unable to pay are genuinely welcomed, which is a beautiful service and statement.

But was the food queer? Absolutely inventive and undeniably delicious—two qualities I’d argue apply to queer individuals, but certainly not exclusively to them. And what about the space itself? It’s somewhat queer. Each table features house-made pronoun pins for guests to wear as they wish, and the bathroom includes a funhouse mirror that, while not overtly queer, certainly feels unique. As Chef Telly Justice mentioned in an email, it’s meant to create a comfortable environment. The dusty pink velvet booths might evoke images of vulvas, yet they could equally be seen as a nod to Millennials—open to interpretation.

The friends I invited for dinner—all straight—were making similar comments, noting the food was exceptional while the queer aspect felt more ambiguous, perhaps even gimmicky. “If this is what being gay tastes like, I’m ready to join,” one straight friend joked.

I initially thought HAGS’s food was phenomenal but that its queer branding was merely clever marketing until I noticed a table across from us. It was another party of four, and one man sported a funky black and neon-green tracksuit with a sheer white mesh top underneath. When he removed his jacket, revealing his nipples, it dawned on me that the essence of HAGS’s queerness might lie not in what it is, but in what it isn’t. HAGS does not resemble a pretentious New York fine dining venue, where even my straight friends might feel pressured to conform to rigid standards of presentation, likely still feeling unwelcome, as those spaces often exude an elite atmosphere that excludes many. This individual and his bare chest would likely not feel comfortable at Per Se, for instance.

At HAGS, you don’t have to hide any part of yourself to enjoy a remarkable dining experience. “We aimed to create a space where who you are wouldn’t hinder your enjoyment of our culinary creations. We want to nourish people as they truly are,” Chef Justice explained. Just as the chef and staff embrace their authentic queer identities, so too do the diners—whether they identify as queer, not queer, or anywhere in between. Radical acceptance and inclusion are the powerful gifts queer individuals offer the world. By being unapologetically and joyfully queer, HAGS may be inspiring the fine-dining scene to embrace a bit more queerness as well.