Eddie Huang’s Hunt For the Perfect Downtown Restaurant Space

I’m cooking for strangers again at my new dance-music-inspired restaurant concept, Gazebo. It’s been running as a pop-up at Flower Shop, which Tammie Teclemariam reviewed for Grub Street. A summer pop-up is exciting and wonderful, but I’m 43 and married, I have a kid, and I haven’t yet mailed in my marriage certificate, so I absolutely need to find a restaurant space and get my marriage certified.

This cuffing season, I’m looking for a second-generation restaurant space between 1,500 and 2,000 square feet with the gas turned on, a beer and wine license (but preferably also liquor), black-iron venting, six-foot-five, blue eyes, and a patio. I know my worth, and I’m not settling for anything less.

Then there’s location. My wife, Natashia, and I engaged a fabulous broker, Noah Jay, and gave him these parameters: south of 12th Street, north of Canal, east of Jane, and west of Avenue C. These boundaries may seem arbitrary, but there is definitely a vibe shift at 12th Street in the East Village when you approach Abe Lebewohl Park and Triangle, named after the former proprietor of 2nd Avenue Deli who had helped to save the park. No matter how many businesses change hands, 12th Street and Second Avenue is my favorite block of the East Village because of that park. As for the southern boundary, I have love for the restaurants below Canal, but I don’t want to be that dude participating in the gentrification below Canal. If you go past Jane, you’re in the water, so I didn’t have much say in that boundary. Finally, while I appreciate a pioneering spirit as much as the game Oregon Trail, it would be insane to set up shop on Avenue D selling skate wing bathed in a chile-oil-mustard-green reduction.

Within 24 hours, Noah sent us a detailed spreadsheet that canvassed the area with price per square footage, details on my asks, and his personal notes. Scanning the spreadsheet, a lot of feelings rose to the surface. Certain landmarks I thought were solid were presented off-market, and businesses I thought were doing well were listed for sale or rent while still in operation, like a wonderful Black Seed Bagel on Second Avenue.

But looking for a location isn’t just about the square footage you’ll take up. You have to be conscious of the party happening on the block and what you’ll bring to it. While I love a mixed crowd, certain demographics don’t mix well, and you probably wouldn’t want to open a thoughtful Mediterranean Chinese restaurant concept you created with your wife between, say, the Flying Cock and Plug Uglies on Third Avenue.

I’m giving the search a few months, beginning in Nolita.

There are certain New York blocks I’ve had a long-term relationship with. One of them is 12th Street, Orchard is another. Then there’s Bleecker.

I’ve always seen Bleecker and Broadway as the exact intersection between streetwear and men’s contemporary fashion. Since 1994, Atrium held down the Broadway side of Bleecker, taking up the entire block toward Lafayette. It was a gateway to downtown where people copped denim, but in 2012, Ronnie Fieg went from David Z to Atrium, taking up space inside the boutique to sell sneakers under his Kith banner. It was a smart move among many smart moves by Ronnie in those years. When everyone else was fighting to collaborate with Nike, Ronnie worked with Red Wing and Asics, eventually building the modern-day Bloomingdale’s on Bleecker Street.

My first experience at Kith was in 2013 barbecuing on the cozy Bleecker side with Action Bronson one summer outside the store. After our shift, Action broke out the dabs, and I immediately turned gray, had a panic attack, and started mumbling wild shit to my first fiancée, who put me in a cab. From that point on, Bleecker changed, and I told myself that while it was fine to barbecue, it probably wasn’t prudent to dab with someone who has the tolerance of a fucking rhino. By 2014, Ronnie took an extra 3,000 square feet of space inside Atrium, and the writing was on the wall. Eventually, Atrium would become Kith and Kith would become Broadway, Lafayette, and Bleecker.

That same year, Joey Goodwin took space at 9 Bleecker on the Bowery side and opened Overthrow Boxing, an artful punk boxing-gym experiment that I and many other downtown New Yorkers adored. It was the CBGB of boxing, and Joey was the perfect owner.

While Overthrow had classes and privates for fitness-boxing normies in the basement, there was always some music video, student film, abstract visual genre mash-up being shot upstairs. If you didn’t have money for classes, Joey let you bring weights outside and work out on the sidewalk or hit the bag. When the trainers were hung-over, they’d train you for free in sauna suits smelling like Buffalo Trace because they needed to get the lead out themselves.

Siggy’s Good Food had already opened around the corner on Elizabeth Street in 2012, selling purportedly healthy, but very delicious, well-priced food, and it was the perfect accompaniment to the Overthrow side of Bleecker.

There was also a Planned Parenthood on Bleecker and Elizabeth, so between Bowery and Lafayette, Bleecker was very much a wellness block where you could get a lot done for your mind, body, and spirit if you had two to three hours on any given day.

Most of that is gone now. Overthrow is vacant, Siggy’s is Raf’s, the Planned Parenthood building is for sale, and the post-punk Bleecker Street wellness dream has died with it.

Looking at the Excel sheet, everything was spoken for within a three-block vicinity of Kith, which was fine. That customer is hitting Kith, maybe CorePower Yoga, and either Thisbowl or Levain after depending on whether they are pre-diabetic or not. It’s a slightly different customer coming to the Gazebo pop-ups. Our ideal woman or man probably frequents Thisbowl and also listens to Overmono, but is more into Solidcore and thinks Levain’s medium-rare cookies are passé. You want to be cognizant about these things when choosing a space.

In the Nolita section of the Excel sheet, I saw that 4–6 Bleecker directly across from the old Overthrow gym was available with a note that said, “Needs work.” Was this a sign? Could Gazebo resurrect the Bowery side of Bleecker with a dance-music-inspired Chinese concept draped in olive oil from my wife’s Grecian fields?

Usually when I see “needs work,” I keep it moving because people tend to take care of things that have value. If something earns the reputation that it “needs work,” you should infer that the previous owner gave up. You don’t need to know why, but just know it translates to significant delays, a lot of money spent, and surprises.

But Bleecker is prime real estate and it deserves my due diligence even if someone else walked out on it.

4–6 Bleecker used to be a mezcal bar called Ghost Donkey connected to Saxon + Parole, an equestrian-themed restaurant that I dined at one time in 2013 for a Wieden + Kennedy exec’s birthday where I believe we split the check 87 ways. Chef Brad Farmerie did his thing, and the food was undeniably soigné, but there was a touch of sticker shock and I never returned. In 2017, JetBlue tapped Saxon + Parole to provide meals for its Mint Class customers, and I frequently enjoyed the terroir of the Bowery side of Bleecker 35,000 feet in the air. In 2020, Saxon + Parole ceased to operate and Ghost Donkey in early 2021 — a bad year for restaurants and bars, to put it gently, and it looks like nothing’s come in since.

With dreams of serving people Hokkaido scallop ceviche in JetBlue Mint, I went to see 4–6 Bleecker with Noah and Natashia. When we arrived, the broker was unavailable, so we waited for the superintendent at the building. After 15 minutes, he did not arrive, so we went to buy bevs at a bodega.

When we returned, the super was carrying a ladder down the street. He opened the door to the space and went in, then elbowed the door to Noah, who touched the inside of it with his hand, shuddered, and flung it to Natashia, who also made the mistake of touching the door. I chose to jump in since I had Salomons on, and you can do anything you put your mind to if you have Salomons on.

As soon as we stepped in the spot, we covered our mouths. Dust was everywhere, the walls had been bombed with mediocre tags, the floors were busted up, and there were wires hanging from the ceiling. The super set up his ladder and smiled as if to say, “Enjoy.”

“1,800 square feet up top, 1,800 on the bottom, 50 feet of frontage, but I told you it needed a lot of work,” said Noah.

“Is the landlord offering tenant improvement money?” I asked.

“Not currently.”

“What the fuck is on my hand?” Natashia asked, examining the inside of the door.

“What’s the rent?”

“$23,500 a month.”

“Let’s get outta here.”

$157 per square foot for a bombed-out box with 50 feet of frontage was insane to me. At that rate, the annual rent is $282,000 — the kind of rent that could get you something turnkey in Williamsburg or the East Village and at least a white-boxed restaurant in the Lower East Side: a basic, functional shell of a space where gas, electric, and HVAC is working. The only thing that made sense here was that it’d been vacant since 2021.

I wouldn’t touch 4–6 Bleecker unless the landlord delivered it white-boxed with contingencies in the deal for Con Edison to bring in gas. Then it could fetch somewhere between $200 and $250 per square foot. That, or the landlord would need to give me a year of free rent for the renovation plus about $350,000 in tenant improvement money. But I expect few owners would agree to this, and I don’t want to wait for months of renovations.
It seems like the landlord is listing this property as they slowly renovate it with the hope that some sucker takes it. But I’m not that guy.

Until then, I’ll keep going down the list.