My first indoor dinner since the pandemic began

Do you remember the feeling of sitting at a restaurant and unfolding the silverware wrapped neatly in a crisp white napkin? Yeah, neither do I.

When New York City went into lockdown on March 22, following similar actions in Washington and California, restaurants and bars were closed, only to later reopen with takeout or delivery options.

A New York City without restaurants was – or rather, is – unimaginable. When I moved here from California, the food scene was one of my biggest draws, aside from career opportunities.

The city boasts the finest restaurants, top-tier chefs, and a rich tapestry of international cuisines.

I’d indulge like royalty at Pasha, my go-to Turkish restaurant on the Upper West Side. Then, I’d catch the F train from Brooklyn, through Manhattan, all the way to Queens for mouthwatering Indian curries at Jackson Diner.

Next, I’d head up to Arthur Avenue in the Bronx, where I'd shop at the Italian markets and gorge myself on cannoli from Marrone, followed by boisterous Italian feasts at Puglia, a century-old gem in Little Italy where resident crooner Jorge Buccio would lead a joyful crowd in 'The Napkin Song.'

And of course, there’s the fine dining: Le Bernardin is still my top pick for a New York City dining experience. Getting a reservation there, whether for myself, friends, or colleagues, felt like a personal victory—imagine winning a gold medal, but with a confirmation email from Resy.

Here we are, a week after New York City’s restaurants reopened at 25% capacity. I’ve been eating outdoors since July—not often, but enough to keep my restaurant cravings somewhat in check. But now, it’s time to return to something resembling normalcy.

A return to tradition

Since I couldn't snag a reservation at Le Bernardin (remember my little brag about that?), I opted for another favorite, Keens Steakhouse, just north of Herald Square in Midtown Manhattan.

The first time I stepped into Keens, I thought I’d arrived in heaven. It’s everything you’d expect from a classic New York steakhouse—spacious, dark wood, with a crackling fireplace in the pub room just off the downstairs bar. Impeccable service and a vibrant noise that makes you feel like you’re at the heart of the world.

And the food? It’s absolute perfection. The steaks, especially their renowned mutton chop, are always top-tier cuts, cooked to flawless perfection. Other crowd-pleasers include the oysters, timeless sides like creamed spinach, and a decadent crème brûlée to finish off the meal.

Here we are, nearly seven months into a global pandemic, and I’m sitting in an Uber on Sixth Avenue, watching all the masked pedestrians walking by in every direction (shoutout to New Yorkers for wearing your masks!).

I step out of the car to check out Keens’ outdoor setup, which, if you’ve ever been in Midtown, might make you skeptical that anything remotely elegant—or even pleasant—could be happening on the street next to the latest Taco Bell Cantina (where you can now sip cocktails with your gordita, no less).

Despite the setting, the tent and tables offer a tiny sanctuary, at least from my spot on the sidewalk. There were a few tables occupied, and when I checked in at the podium, a friendly woman took my temperature and guided me upstairs to my table.

It’s dinnertime!

Seated by a window, and comfortably more than six feet away from anyone else, our table felt like a little personal throne. Once I settled in with my dining companion—both of us masked up—I began the struggle of unwrapping the silverware.

I can’t fully explain how strange and disorienting it was. My hands seemed clueless, unsure how to unwrap things, the knives tumbling out onto the table, and the napkin still holding the forks when I placed it on my lap. We were both in fits of laughter. I completely forgot how to handle a place setting!

But then our waiter arrived, pointed to the touchless menu barcode, and took our drink orders. We kept our masks on whenever a server or staff came near to refill water or clear plates. It felt awkward, and remembering to do it was a challenge.

I tossed my mask onto my lap and couldn’t find it when I saw someone walking towards us, so I just slapped my hand over my mouth and mumbled an apology. My dining partner, thankfully, had her mask hanging from her neck like a pro, while I looked like I’d just been called up from the minor leagues with a case of the yips.

They divided our salad and steak for us, so we didn’t need to share utensils or get too close to each other’s food. We were considerate of each other and the other guests. I noticed only four other occupied tables. The advantage of a spacious, multi-room restaurant cannot be overstated. Smaller, cozier places must have a harder time managing 25% capacity, especially if it only means three tables.

As we moved into dessert, a sense of normalcy and pure joy washed over us. We had done it! We were back!

It may not look like it used to, but dining indoors in New York City is still a fantastic experience. I felt safe, well-cared for, and got to enjoy the exact meal I’d been longing for since March.

Le Bernardin, you’re next on my list.