What Makes a Summer Restaurant?
They’re like porn — you know them when you see them (and here are 6 hints to look for)
Is there such thing as a summer restaurant? Not a beach bar, not a drive-in, or any other type of on-the-nose spot that only operates from Memorial Day through August, but an otherwise mid-tier restaurant whose appeal skyrockets in accordance to the season.
This is not uncommon in other aspects of our lives, or American culture at large. Think of the summer fling. The summer blockbuster. Boat shoes and Crocs and baseball and Katie Perry and the Jersey Shore. Summer is a season in which we lower our standards, usually in favor of joy. Blame it on heat-induced torpor. Childlike nostalgia. The very ephemerality of the season itself. There’s a reason that the latest Jurassic Park or Transformers installment doesn’t drop amid the Oscar fodder of fall and winter.
We apply a similar attitude to restaurants. There exists, I would argue, a specific class of restaurant here in New York and other such cities that is only top of mind during the three months ahead. Perhaps these restaurants are not revered for the complexity of their cuisine, but when the sun and heat indexes are high so too is their popularity.
Short of relying on the pornography cliché — you know it when you see it — is there certain criteria by which we can sniff such places out? Below, a quick attempt at codifying things…
They serve cuisine that’s colorful and communal, not challenging
Light and zesty might be adjectives you’d expect for a floral body wash ad, but they apply equally well to the type of food you want in summer. Fancy street corn. Watermelon salad. Canapés. You name it. Whatever the menu, just make sure it’s relaxed and unpretentious.
That’s best consumed al fresco
Has anyone in their right mind wanted to sit in a propane heated dining hut in the dead of winter? We all know those seats suck. But come summer and we’re clamoring to dine on the sidewalk, typically in a wobbly fold up chair. Put us in a courtyard or on a rooftop with views of Hoboken, string up some Japanese lanterns, all the better. In summer, we’re like Sam-I-Am — we’ll dine anywhere.
Oysters are always on the menu
Oysters are in season September through April. And yet when do we want them most? June, July, and August. When the sun’s still out and the temperature’s still obscene, what’s better than taking down a dozen bivalves that require no culinary acumen other than lightly spritzing them with lemon?
Rosé and spritzes, too
I’m no oenophile, but I am qualified enough to tell you that rosé is fucking terrible. Ditto Aperol Spritz. All you’re drinking is liquified candy bound to give you a headache and pack on the pounds (margaritas, however, remain untouchable, please treat them with the respect they deserve). Or, rather, I’d confidently tell you all of the above 9 months out of the year. But come this weekend and lasting till the sun sets on Labor Day? All bets are off. Just keep these drinks flowing, because nothing is better or more decadent than some crisp rosé plucked from a shimmering bucket of ice.
Buns are considered better than cutlery
If there are multiple dishes on the menu in which things are served in buns that don’t need to be served in buns, you are in the right place, friend.
And the soup is always cold
A friend with a far superior palate (and Mexican roots) once told me that gazpacho is nothing more than watered down salsa. To which I replied, all the better to drink it. Yes, I would drink gazpacho if it weren’t frowned upon, and I’m guessing so would you. Short of bringing a quart of Alvalle (you can sometimes score it at Target or random bodegas — it’s incredible), look for a restaurant with it on the menu. Europeans love this stuff, and they’ve figured out how to take off the entire month of August without getting fired, so they must be doing something right.
There you have it, a scientific study of the six attributes that a summer-worthy restaurant make. Enjoy the long weekend, go forth and slurp oysters, swill rosé etc. etc.
James Jung
VP, Content
Blackbird Labs, Inc.