Old Homestead Finds the Beef

The folks over at the Old Homestead steakhouse recently invited me to take a tour of the 141-year-old Meatpacking Distict chowhouse. I hadn't seen it since the recent renovation, so I happily took them up on the offer.

I had been sad to see the old place cut in half last fall when the owners gave up the lease on the southern half of the restaurant, after their landlords raised the rent. They now operate out of a comparatively narrow space, three levels high. But they own the building, so they won't have to worry about the whims of landlords anymore. And it's the building that has the famous Old Homestead vertical neon sign on it, as well as large cow figure, beloved symbols of New York-iana.


If you didn't pass that sign and that cow, you might not know you're in a restaurant that began serving right after the Civil War. Inside, architect and designer Glen Coben has made everything smooth and sleek. The floor is original, I was told, and the tin ceilings. But otherwise, everything's pretty new. It's that prototypical steakhouse look: dark wood, leather, white tablecloths, mirrors, dim lighting. The template hasn't change much since the days of Diamond Jim Brady. Very nice in its way. It's all quite handsome and understated, if a tad anonymous. I wouldn't mind a bit more fusty old bric-a-brac and memorabilia on the wall. If you're 140 years old, why not show it off?


My favorite part of the renovation by far is a private room on the second floor that used to be a closet. When they cleared out the space, I was told, workers uncovered an old painted sign that had long ago adorned the northern wall of the building just to the south (the same building that the Old Homestead used to lease). It reads in big, bold letters, "Prime Beef." It's beautiful and in fine condition, considering its age. And it gives the room a particular character, as does the fine view out the window—a close up of the bottom half of the neon sign. I could only imagine how the sign would illuminate the room at night with a cool noir air.


The owners say they had no idea that sign was there all these years. It presented a conundrum, though. It was obviously an outdoor sign. But the only way it could have been seen is if the building that houses the Old Homestead didn't exist. When I queried the Old Homestead people, however, they said the building they occupied was older than the building to the south. Mysterious. And impossible.


I told them of my confusion and asked if they were sure of their dates. Sure enough, they came back with reverse information. The building to the south was indeed older than the Old Homestead building. Thus, the northern brick wall of the southern building was once visible to to all who wished to gaze at the Prime Beef advertisement.

Given the age of the Old Homestead, one would then assume that the painted sign is at least 150 years old. Amazing. What was paint made of in the old days? Based on the innumerable old painted signs that are uncovered every year in New York, 19th century paint seems to last forever.

Or, Here's an Idea: Let Florent Come Back!

For months we have watched a pre-drawn conclusion play itself out as the landlord who kicked Meatpacking District legend Florent out tried to find success with her own sad replica of the diner, R&L Restaurant—and failed and failed and failed. As we all knew she would. Idiot. A thousand times over, idiot. (R&L was, of course, the name of the original diner that was there, but it's second incarnation was a hollow effort.)

The landlord eventually gave up, and R&L/Florent has been closed for a while. Now there's news from Grub Street of a new tenant:

When a reputable downtown restaurateur put in a competitive bid on the space a few weeks back, his offer wasn't even entertained. He was told the space had been leased; Grub Street has confirmed that a signed lease is now in place with another player, according to a source very close to Joanne Lucas, who owns the property. As for who this new tenant is, the facts are less clear.

We asked one nightlife expert about the space and he said, "At the numbers she was asking, I'm hard pressed to believe that anyone with any market knowledge would have signed. She was asking $30k/month, so assume it's $20k. The taxes are very high there and you'd be required to basically rebuild the space. It's in very poor condition and hasn't been touched in twenty years." Nevertheless, two more sources named David Graziano and David Cabo, of the Pink Elephant and Bagatelle cabal, as the new lease holders.

OK, so Lucas' restaurant failed. Why seek out new tenants, who would destroy the interior and, with it, what's left of the Florent legacy inside? Why not do the obvious thing and invite Florent to move back in and start up the old business like nothing had happened? I'm certain his patrons would return. What do you say Joanne? Can you admit you were wrong and make amends? Prove that what we naturally assume about landlords is wrong.

Three Classic Eateries in the News

Two cherished old Manhattan restaurants and one cherished Brooklyn eatery made news today—bad for two, and potentially good for the other.

Florent, the cherished Meatpacking District late-night haunt that has a scummy, greedy landlord ("Me want 50 grand a month or I murderize you"), has named June 29 as its last day on Earth. I talked to my lawyer and [the restaurant] will stay open for two or three months. I'd like to end on a high note and I think Gay Pride Day would be perfect," Florent Morellet told the New York Post.

The restaurant that will supplant Brooklyn Heights mainstay Armando's has been revealed to be, uh, Spicy Pickle. This is apparently the unfortunate name of a Denver-based sandwich chain with franchises in 14 states. It's website says it's a leader in the "fast-casual" concept of dining, which is sort of like saying one's leader in the "good-bad" food movement.

Meanwhile, restauranteur Keith McNally's purchase of the immortal Minetta Tavern in Greenwich Village has been confirmed. He appeared before Community Board 2 to outline his plans (that's him above), according to Eater:

The menu will be French, (shocker), but the interior will remain unchanged.
2) The plan is to have 83 seats, with a capacity of 95, but due to a technicality, only a 75 person capacity was approved as of last night.

There was some minor opposition from neighbors concerned about noise and the possibility of "idling limos," but in the end, the motion passed unanimously, and the license is off to the SLA.

Since he's respecting the interior of the place, I'm fairly content. The food could use a kick in the pants, so let him at it. And there's nothing wrong with drawing a new, fresh crowd to a great, historic address.

Did I Say $6,000? I Meant $43,000!

Wondering how little the landlord who owns Florent's building deserved a present from Santa? This little: He wants $43,000 a month in rent. That's up from, um, $6,018. This is why I've always put landlords at the bottom of the occupational food chain; they cavalierly and greedily fuck around with basic human rights: shelter and livelihood.

Owner Florent Morellet, suing the landlord, but what honestly can he do but forestall the inevitable? According to the Observer acticle, "He doesn’t fault the landlord for trying to cash in. `Until we, as New Yorkers, decide to pass laws to have rent control commercially, landlords should be able to charge what they want,' he said." Or, here's another take on the situation that doesn't give scumlords a pass on ethics: Until we, as New Yorkers, decide to pass laws to have rent control commercially, landlords should make a concerted effort regulate their own business principles according a shared societal creed of fairness.

Some Stuff That's Interesting

Still no action at would-be Court Street Trader Joe's. (And can they please fix the clock?)

Somebody tore down the 114-year-old Church of the Master (cool name) because, you know, they just had to.

The bad news about Meatpacking landmark diner Florent maybe closing appears to be true. The Observer says the restaurant's lease is up March 31 and the owner may not renew. If you have $70,000 (a month) the space can be yours.

A cool film of Blackwell's Island circa 1903 made by Thomas Edison.

Some good citizens (and one City Councilman) participated in a rally at Borough Hall in support of the drive to downzone Carroll Gardens.

And, off-island: I like pizza places that call themselves "Apizza." New Haven rocks!

Trouble on Gansevoort Street?

If you've been wondering what else can be done to strip the Meatpacking Distict of all its character, try this on: Florent's days may be numbered.

Eater reported that the venerable hipster diner, which was open 24 hours a day when Gansavoort Street was still scary and dangerous and odiferous, may be up for sale. According to their information, the restaurant's landlord is shopping around the space. Eater admits that's its sources aren't 100%, but, just to make sure, they phoned Florent owner Florent Morellet. And it's the way Morellet replies that makes one worry:

"I can't tell you [when we'll close]. Nobody will know until the fat lady sings, as we say. I'll fight with the last bone in my body... The rents are high in the neighborhood. Like I've said to a lot of people, I'm optimistic because I believe the world economy will collapse and so might the real estate prices in the neighborhood. Maybe people will get down to reality and realize that the sky's not the limit. We don't know. We'll know down the road. It's not closing yet. Not at all."

Dose ain't da woids of a confident man.

If Florent does go, I'm ready to stick a fork in the Meatpacking District for good. The diner is a wonderful slice of New Yorkiana, with an understated, 1950s, Film Noir vibe. Florent opened in 1985. The old R & L Restaurant sign, denoting the space's previous tenant, still sit above the awning. Coming up it and its lovely pink neon sign at 3 AM and seeing the inside abuzz with hungry young scenesters is enough to warm the cockles of any urbania aficianado's heart. (I still recall my first nighttime glimpse of it as a magical moment, like spying a mirage in a cobblestone desert.)

Frank's Restaurant Is No More

Frank's Restaurant, a Meatpacking District institution which has been house is Chelsea Market since 2005, has shut its doors, Eater reports.

Yuppies passing by on their way to buying brownies or wicker baskets wouldn't know it, but Frank's has been around since 1912, when no one without a big white apron and a couple of fat, meaty hands would even venture near the area. It used to be at 10th Avenue and 15th Street, where it mainly served the workers in the area. The place was run by a whole bunch of Molinaris, including Chris, Steve and James.

To be, ahem, Frank, I haven't heard many good things about the place and its food lately, but one hates to see 95 years of New York history go down the drain.

Meatpacking District, Sans Meat

The Meatpacking District has never been my "scene," as they say. In my 18 years in New York, that social mileau has always been about clubs and the nite spots you go to after trolling those clubs. And I was never a club man, even in my (not too distant) youth. But, I've always liked the general feel of the place, the zig-zag of crumbling, cobble-stone street, the peculiar street names, the grungy meat wholesalers, the lonely, dead-end aura. It was unique.

I haven't been there in years—aside from an occasional dinner as Pastis or Markt (sue me—I like frites)—mainly because of what I hear about the district, that it's become overrun with the bridge and tunnel crowd and trendoids racing to keep up with an every increasing number of dance joints. If I want to drink until I fall down, I'll do it where I'm less likely to land in a puddle of cow blood. So it's not surprising to see that Gawker has spent much of the week detailing how the neighborhood is officially ruined. In particular, Markt and Western Beef—one of the few remaining buisnesses that gave the area its name—are moving out to make way for "410 West 14th Street," a three-story retail box with all the charm and character a bunch of glass and concrete can muster.

Which brings up an interesting New York phenomenon. That is, the tendency of developers to move into hot neighborhoods and remove the thing that made them hot in the first place, while all the time believing the nabe will stay hot in the same way. Soho is full of art galleries and artists? Move in with Pottery Barns and Apple stores until all those artists are chased away to Chelsea, Williamsburg and beyond! Brooklyn has a low-key, low-slung, neighborhoody feel that's hip and cool? Get in there with as many faceless CVSs and Rite Aids as you can until it looks like outer Akron!

And so, the Meatpacking District don't pack meat no more, no more, it's dont pack meat no more. Maybe Carey buses can soon start shipping in tourists to shop. We're a three-industry town, folks: restaurants, retail, residences. We don't make anything here except money.