The Best New Restaurants of 2025

Bánh Anh Em

Since opening in March, this no-reservations destination has become known as a place with a Big Line. Can you blame anyone for waiting? Co-owners Nhu Ton and John Nguyen already served some of the city’s most thrilling Vietnamese food at the original Bánh uptown. Many exciting things come out of the kitchen here (the yellow sticky rice with pork floss, for one), all of which show off Ton’s reverence for her home country’s cuisine. Diners come for the best-in-class bánh mì, pâté or fried chicken stuffed into the fluffiest, lightest house-baked Vietnamese baguettes; or for the pho Nam Định, a style otherwise unseen in this city, for which Ton and Nguyen originally imported a noodle-making machine; and everyone is curious about the bánh ướt chồng, a specialty from Ton’s hometown that arrives as a tower of sticky-to-the-touch rice crêpes to roll around char-grilled pork jowl, spears of green mango, and pickled mustard greens. 99 Third Ave., nr. E. 13th St.; banhanhem.com

Bartolo

The ceilings are low, the banquettes are covered in green or bloodred leather, and good luck getting a spot at the tiny bar; semi-secluded carnivore clubhouses are plentiful enough in this city, but few if any display the panache and confidence of Ryan Bartlow’s second restaurant. Bartolo’s partners (Bartlow; his wife, Davitta Niakani; and her sister, Alexandra) take Madrid as their inspiration — ginitonics, gildas, Cantabrian anchovies, and platters of jamón Ibérico are all well accounted for — while grabbing ideas from New York steakhouses and Spanish American restaurants of yore. Bowls of slow-cooked tripe are larded with plugs of morcilla, while filets of beef are drenched in foie gras (both as a sauce and a sautéed lobe). This dark, moody restaurant doesn’t feel dangerous, exactly, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if someone in the back dining room were up to no good. The only thing missing is a haze of tobacco smoke in the air, but drink enough sherry and things will get blurry soon enough. 310–312 W. 4th St., nr. 12th St.; bartolonyc.com

Bong

Chakriya Un and Alexander Chaparro’s restaurant had a long prehistory in shared spaces and as roving pop-ups, thrilling when they appeared and always too short-lived. With their permanent restaurant, in a shoebox-size side-street storefront, they’ve lost little of the start-up spirit but gained, at last, a forever home. Yes, Bong had a protracted, slightly user-unfriendly soft-opening phase this summer when reservations were available only by Instagram DM. But the joy of Bong was never about easy entry or white-tablecloth service. It was, and is, the funky, fishy, tingly abandon of Un’s Cambodian cooking — deeply shrimpy cha kapiek, whole dorade fried a dusted with toasted rice powder, a messy pile of “secret recipe” lobster — learned at the knee of her immigrant mother, “Mama Kim,” who still makes occasional appearances on the kitchen line. 724 Sterling Pl., nr. Bedford Ave., Crown Heights; bongnyc.com

Ha’s Snack Bar

Bong isn’t the only pop-up that went permanent (and became near impossible to get into) this year: Fans and followers have long watched Anthony Ha and Sadie Mae Burns’s roving Ha’s Đặc Biệt transform from strictly Vietnamese to an idiosyncratic mash-up of the bistro and the bun cha. Consider their vol-au-vent: Not long after they opened the brick-and-mortar, it was a leaning tower of curried lamb spilling over puff pastry rings onto the plate. Soon, the lamb got swapped out for iron-rich blood sausage. Even more recently, Ha dove into seafood stew. Repeat visits are necessary to see everything. The 24-seat space is a squeeze, but Burns and Ha are restless and their menu is always evolving. Don’t expect to find many dishes again, except maybe escargots bathing in sour tamarind butter. What you can always expect is an energized, elastic style of cooking — skate wing with ginger nuoc, chicken-liver pâté enlivened with kumquats — and a deep bench of wines to match. Finally, don’t miss Burns’s desserts, especially the crème caramel. 297 Broome St., nr. Forsyth St.; instagram.com/has_dac_biet

Kabawa

Cynical New York food journalists that we are, we can be rubbed the wrong way by “Don’t worry, be happy” culture. And yet Paul Carmichael’s prix fixe homage to the foods of the Caribbean, where the menu reads “Love yuh self,” had us smiling our asses off. Carmichael oversees the extremely visible kitchen not in Bear-style dictator mode but with ease and a ready laugh. He manages to suffuse the place, night after night, with that rarest thing: good vibes. The food follows suit. Warm chickpea-scented rotis with chutneys. Glistening pepper-shrimp crudo, smoky-spicy and fresh all at once. New York’s finest fine-dining goat, a protein often promised but rarely delivered, here cooked to a tender puck and coated in a sauce of dried scallops. The pièce de résistance is a giant bow-shaped pork chop for two — frilled like, and named for, a cancan dancer’s dress — sweet, hot, fatty, crisp, and crackled. 8 Extra Pl., at E. 1st St.; kabawa.com

Le Chêne

Alexia Duchêne and her husband, Ronan Duchêne Le May, are new to these shores, having just moved from Paris in 2023. Their restaurant is an ode to Gallic excellence: Servers in matching Figaret shirts might pass around Brittany blue lobsters, and foie gras Lucullus — a layered terrine of fatty liver and smoked beef tongue. The buttery crust on an eel-and-pork pithivier and an off-menu layer of truffled mascarpone inside delicate brie are only out-Frenched by a clafoutis filled with jammy plums whose sweetness is offset by a scoop of aged-goat-cheese ice cream. The most Old World touch of all: The Duchênes live in an apartment right above the restaurant. 76 Carmine St., nr. Seventh Ave. S.; lechenenyc.com

Lei

Annie Shi is busy. She’s a partner at the still always crowded King and its midtown sibling, Jupiter, and is planning a new British pub. Somehow she found time to open this wine bar and avowed passion project. Named for Shi’s late sister, Lei brings together the old-world wines she’s spent her career championing — as well as the nascent wine regions of China and Japan — with a menu that sidesteps the usual tinned fish and cheese found at 10 million other wine bars for food that fits right into this wedge of Chinatown. As prepared by chef Patty Lee, handmade cat’s-ear noodles are tossed with tender shreds of braised lamb, and a happy hunk of short rib is glazed sticky sweet with strawberry jam. The tiny, handsomely designed room is on pedestrian-only Doyers Street, so the party can spill outside when it’s warm. 15–17 Doyers St., nr. Pell St.; leiwine.nyc

Santi

Michael White’s restaurants have never been the coolest in town — that’s not their lane. The Barolo-at-the-bar machers who still flock to Marea years after White decamped don’t seem to mind. His talents thrive in big-money restaurants that maintain an uptown sense of self-possessed propriety: Let the kids chase the trends;, we’ll be up here enjoying the good stuff. So it is with Santi. If there are other pasta- makers at White’s level in town, we haven’t found them. His pork-filled tortellini is nothing new, and so what? He’s got the mix of mortadella, prosciutto, and shoulder just so. Likewise the twirls of mushroom busiate, so expertly truffled that they’re the best seller even in the summer. 11 E. 53rd St., nr. Madison Ave.; santinyc.com

Sunn’s

One more pop-up gone permanent: After a decade of various short-term stints around town, Sunny Lee has built up not only her arsenal of banchan recipes but also a loyal following of friends and fans. They all cram into the 24 seats — which must be pushed aside during the day to give Lee and her team room to prep — at Sunn’s, her first proper space. Even in these tight quarters, Lee’s menu is an ever-changing bounty: Specials like candied dried squid and fried baby anchovies with sugar and walnuts offer totally different waves of flavor than the bites of aged kimchee or fresh scallops harvested in Massachusetts waters by Lee’s father. 139 Division St., at Ludlow St.; sunnsnyc.com

The View

There is real Big Apple magic at Danny Meyer’s revolving restaurant, set, as it is, on the 48th floor of the Marriott Marquis. It’s a draw for tourists who want to grab a martini before scattering off to Death Becomes Her or Mamma Mia!, of course, but go with a kid or an unjaded adult and watch their eyes grow large during the 45-second glass-elevator ride up through the hotel’s main artery. The sense of wonder won’t dim until after a slice of chocolate cake as big as their torso is drizzled with warm caramel sauce for dessert. There are more impressive burgers and Caesar salads in this city, but very few rooms better suited for proper special-occasion dining smack in the middle of New York, New York. 1535 Broadway, at 46th St.; theviewnewyorkcity.com