18 Places New Yorkers Used To Eat And Now Totally Regret

New York City’s food scene changes faster than subway delays happen during rush hour.

We’ve all been there—waiting in long lines or dropping serious cash at spots that once seemed worth it, only to later wonder what we were thinking.

I’ve made my share of dining mistakes in the Big Apple, and I’m betting you have too.

Here’s my collection of once-beloved NYC eateries that now make locals cringe when tourists mention them.

1. Salt Bae’s Nusr-Et Steakhouse

Remember when we all obsessed over that Turkish chef who flamboyantly sprinkled salt? Yeah, me too. I spent $400 there for my anniversary dinner, thinking I’d get the Instagram-worthy experience of the century.

What I got instead was mediocre meat with a side of theatrics and a bill that nearly caused cardiac arrest. The steak wasn’t even that good! Just adequately cooked beef with gold flakes that added zero flavor but plenty of regret to my wallet.

Now whenever I see tourists lined up outside, I want to grab them by the shoulders and scream, “Save your money for literally any other steakhouse in New York!” But I just walk by, silently remembering my own salt-crusted shame.

2. Tavern On The Green

My parents celebrated their 25th anniversary here in the 90s, so when my college friends visited, I insisted we experience this “iconic” Central Park landmark. The hostess seated us next to a window overlooking the park, which momentarily convinced me the steep prices might be justified.

Spoiler alert: they weren’t. The food was forgettable—like hotel banquet fare with fancy descriptions. My salmon arrived lukewarm and tasted like it had been prepared the previous day, then hastily reheated.

The only thing more painful than the bill was watching other first-timers excitedly snap photos, blissfully unaware they were about to pay $42 for what was essentially cafeteria food with a view. Tourist trap doesn’t begin to cover it.

3. Any Chain Restaurant In Times Square

I still cringe remembering the time I agreed to meet friends at the Times Square Olive Garden. “It’ll be convenient for everyone,” they said. Convenient for everyone except my taste buds and dignity.

We waited 90 minutes for a table—longer than the wait at actual good restaurants downtown. The food was exactly the same as any suburban Olive Garden, except triple the price and served by frazzled waitstaff dealing with tourists who thought they’d discovered authentic Italian cuisine.

The real kicker? Watching people excitedly take photos of their breadsticks while actual Little Italy sat just a few subway stops away. Now I have a strict personal policy: if it has a location in a mall food court anywhere in America, it’s not where you eat in New York.

4. Katz’s Delicatessen

Blasphemy, I know! But hear me out. Last summer, I dragged my visiting cousins to Katz’s, promising them “the best pastrami in the universe.” We waited in line for 45 minutes while I regaled them with tales of this hallowed institution.

Then came the sticker shock: $24.95 for a sandwich! My cousin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Sure, the sandwich was enormous, but who needs a pound of meat between two tiny pieces of bread? The pastrami was good—I won’t deny that—but worth the chaos, confusion of the ticket system, and aggressive table-hunting?

Now when friends visit, I send them to lesser-known delis where the sandwiches are just as good, half the price, and don’t require an advanced degree to figure out how to order.

5. Magnolia Bakery

Sex and the City has a lot to answer for, including the hour I’ll never get back waiting in line for a cupcake that’s basically just sugar and food coloring. My first Magnolia experience happened during my “new to New York” phase when I thought following TV-inspired food pilgrimages made me a real New Yorker.

The cupcake I eventually received was… fine. Just fine. Nothing more than a decent homemade cupcake with extra frosting. Yet I watched tourists taking glamour shots of these ordinary confections like they were holding the Holy Grail.

The banana pudding is admittedly tasty, but not worth the tourist crowd or the inflated price tag. These days, I walk by Magnolia with the smug satisfaction of a local who knows better bakeries in every neighborhood.

6. Trendy Meatpacking District Spots

The first time I scored a reservation at a buzzy Meatpacking restaurant, I felt like I’d won the lottery. I spent two hours’ worth of rent on dinner and cocktails, convinced I was having a peak New York experience among the beautiful people.

Fast forward to the sobering realization that I’d paid $26 for three scallops arranged artistically around a microscopic smear of purée. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear my date, and the chairs seemed designed by someone who hated human comfort.

These places change names and concepts every few years anyway. That exclusive spot where you once spotted a Kardashian? Now it’s a different overpriced restaurant with an even more pretentious menu and the same uncomfortable chairs. Save yourself the trouble and the hearing damage.

7. Balthazar

My boss once took our team to Balthazar for a “special treat,” which apparently meant spending two hours squeezed between tables so close together you could sample your neighbor’s cologne. The restaurant’s faux-French brasserie vibe initially charmed me—all that brass and mirrors and bustling waiters in long aprons.

Then the food arrived. My $38 steak frites featured a slab of meat swimming in an overly salty butter sauce and fries that any corner bistro in Paris would be embarrassed to serve. Meanwhile, everyone acted like we were having the most sophisticated dining experience imaginable.

The real kicker? Watching actual French tourists look confused by the prices and wondering why Americans think this represents authentic French cuisine. These days, I get better steak frites at my neighborhood bistro for half the price.

8. Minetta Tavern

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried the Black Label Burger at Minetta Tavern,” my foodie friend insisted. So I spent weeks refreshing Resy until I scored an 11:15 PM reservation on a Tuesday. The old-school tavern atmosphere initially won me over—dark wood, vintage photos, that perfect moody lighting.

Then came the famous $36 burger. Was it good? Yes. Was it life-changing? Not even close. It was a well-executed burger that somehow cost more than my monthly phone bill. The rest of the menu followed the same pattern: decent food at astronomical prices.

The final insult came when I spotted a celebrity being seated immediately despite arriving after us. Nothing ruins a $36 burger like a side of hierarchy. Now I get my burger fix at corner pubs where no one’s checking if I’m important enough for the good tables.

9. Delmonico’s

History buffs love reminding everyone that Delmonico’s was America’s first fine dining restaurant. I made the mistake of believing this historical significance would translate to an exceptional meal. My grandfather’s 80th birthday seemed like the perfect occasion to splurge on this Financial District institution.

The steaks were… fine? Just fine. Nothing you couldn’t get at any decent steakhouse for considerably less money. The famous Delmonico steak itself was overcooked despite being ordered medium-rare, and the signature Delmonico potatoes tasted suspiciously like they came from a box.

The waiters recited the restaurant’s history with robotic precision while delivering mediocre food on fancy plates. Now when visitors request a classic New York steakhouse experience, I steer them toward places where the chef’s attention focuses more on cooking than on preserving a fading legacy.

10. Smith & Wollensky

My first big client dinner in New York happened at Smith & Wollensky. I felt so sophisticated in that forest-green dining room, pretending I regularly dropped $75 on steak. The client was impressed, the expense account was approved, and I considered myself officially inducted into New York’s power-lunch scene.

Years later, I returned with my own money and realized I’d been blinded by the prestige. The steak was good but not transcendent. The sides were uninspired. The service bordered on condescending unless you looked like you belonged on the cover of Forbes.

The final straw was overhearing a waiter explain to tourists that they were experiencing “authentic New York dining” while serving them an $18 baked potato. Now I know that real New York power players have moved on to less obvious establishments where the food, not the reputation, justifies the price.

11. The Spotted Pig

Before its scandalous closure, The Spotted Pig was my go-to for impressing out-of-town friends. “It’s a gastropub with a Michelin star!” I’d brag, as if I personally had something to do with it. We’d wait hours for a table, convinced the burger with Roquefort cheese would be worth it.

The food was admittedly good, but the experience? Pure chaos. Cramped tables, deafening noise levels, and servers who made you feel they were doing you a favor by taking your order. I once spent three hours waiting for a table, only to be seated in a corner so tight I had to eat with my elbows pinned to my sides.

When the restaurant’s toxic culture was finally exposed, I felt guilty for supporting it for so long. Sometimes the coolest places have the ugliest foundations. Good riddance to bad rubbish, fancy burger notwithstanding.

12. Pearl Oyster Bar

My first date with my now-husband was at Pearl Oyster Bar. Romantic, right? Except we waited 90 minutes for two spots at the cramped counter, where we sat shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers while attempting meaningful conversation.

Don’t get me wrong—the lobster roll was fantastic. But was it worth the price tag, the wait, and the awkwardness of trying to seem attractive while wrestling with seafood? The tiny space meant every time someone walked by, I got bumped, once sending my $16 glass of wine flying across the counter.

These days, we laugh about how we nearly broke up after that first date, not because we didn’t like each other, but because the experience was so uncomfortable. There are now dozens of excellent lobster rolls in New York that don’t require enduring what amounts to dining in a hallway.

13. Bâtard

When Bâtard won that James Beard Award, I immediately made a reservation to celebrate my promotion. Walking in felt special—the sophisticated Tribeca location, the hushed tones, the sommelier who didn’t smirk at my mispronunciation of French wines.

The food looked stunning on those elegant white plates. Each dish was a miniature art installation that I dutifully photographed before eating. But here’s the thing about beautiful food: sometimes it’s just…pretty. The flavors were subtle to the point of being forgettable, and the portions left me stopping for pizza on the way home.

What I remember most isn’t the food but the performance of fine dining—the reverent descriptions of each dish, the synchronized plate placement, the astronomical bill. Now I know I prefer restaurants where the chef’s ego takes up less space on the plate than the actual food.

14. The Beatrice Inn

The first time someone took me to The Beatrice Inn, I felt like I’d finally arrived in New York. The dark wood interior, the whispered conversations, the meat-focused menu that seemed to scream “serious dining.” I was so enchanted I barely noticed dropping $300 on dinner.

Subsequent visits revealed the emperor’s new clothes. The signature 45-day dry-aged burger was indeed flavorful, but did it merit the reverence (and price tag) it commanded? The whole experience felt like an expensive exercise in exclusivity rather than exceptional dining.

The final straw was overhearing the host telling a couple without reservations that nothing was available, only to seat a minor celebrity who walked in right after them. The food was good, but not good enough to stomach the scene that came with it. These days, I prefer restaurants where the food, not the clientele, is the main attraction.

15. La Grenouille

My grandmother’s 90th birthday deserved something special, so I made reservations at La Grenouille, thinking its old-world French elegance would be perfect. The room was undeniably beautiful—those famous flower arrangements alone were worth seeing, and the soft lighting made everyone look 10 years younger.

Then came the food: classic French cuisine that hadn’t evolved since the Kennedy administration. My soufflé was technically perfect but utterly boring. The Dover sole was well-prepared but tasted like it had been made by someone afraid of seasoning. Everything was correct but nothing was memorable.

The real pain came with the bill—astronomical prices for a cuisine that felt more like a museum piece than a living, breathing culinary tradition. Now when I want French food, I choose places where chefs aren’t afraid to acknowledge that French cuisine has evolved since 1962.

16. The Leopard At Des Artistes

The famous Howard Chandler Christy murals of naked nymphs on the walls of The Leopard at des Artistes made me feel sophisticated just for knowing about them. I took my parents there during their visit, eager to show them I’d become a cultured New Yorker who dined beneath historic nude paintings.

The setting was indeed magical—those murals, the history of the building where artists once lived and worked. But the Italian food? Aggressively mediocre pasta that my Italian-American mother diplomatically described as “interesting.” Dad’s veal was tough enough to resole a shoe.

The worst part was pretending it was all wonderful because I’d talked it up so much. Mom later confessed she preferred the spaghetti and meatballs at the little place near my apartment. Lesson learned: historic ambiance doesn’t make up for forgettable food, especially when you’re paying Upper West Side prices for it.

17. Monkey Bar

My first big magazine job celebration happened at Monkey Bar. I felt impossibly grown-up sipping martinis beneath those famous Ed Sorel murals depicting New York luminaries. The whole experience screamed “you’ve made it” to my 20-something self.

Years later, I returned and wondered what all the fuss was about. The food was fine but forgettable—standard American fare with fancy descriptions and prices to match. The cocktails were good but no better than those at dozens of other places charging half as much.

What you’re really paying for is the feeling of being part of New York’s elite—sitting where the power brokers sit, pretending you belong among the caricatures on the wall. These days, I prefer places where the food, not the scene, is the draw. Though I still occasionally walk past and smile at my younger self who once thought dining there meant she’d conquered New York.

18. The Campbell Bar

Grand Central Terminal’s hidden gem—that’s how I described The Campbell Bar (formerly The Campbell Apartment) to visiting friends. I loved the dramatic reveal of walking through Grand Central and discovering this ornate 1920s office-turned-bar, complete with soaring ceilings and a massive stone fireplace.

The first cocktail always tasted amazing, partly because of the setting’s magnificence. By the second round, though, reality set in: mediocre drinks at astronomical prices, served by bartenders who seemed annoyed by your presence. The $22 Old Fashioned wasn’t noticeably better than those at normal bars charging half the price.

What once felt like a secret now feels like a tourist trap with better architecture. These days, when I’m in Grand Central, I grab a quick beer at the Oyster Bar instead. The ceiling there is pretty impressive too, and nobody acts like they’re doing me a favor by taking my money.