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Saturday, October 6, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
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Monday, September 10, 2012
The Real McCoy (West View News)
The Real McCoy:
By Christopher Daish
Published September 2012
Published September 2012
The Real McCoy:
The Beast That Is NYC Restaurant Success
When asked about why people choose to open restaurants in New York City, third generation Irish South Bronx firefighter Sean Killarney pauses for a moment and explains, “First and foremost, you have to be crazy.” His new restaurant McCoy (89 McDougal Street corner of Bleecker) located in the heart of Greenwich Village that opened in May this year is not his first rodeo. With two thriving restaurants already, both called Beach House (located in Long Beach and Rockville) whose idyllic deserted island website backdrop beckons, “Choose your paradise,” they are a far cry from the bustling corner of McDougal and Bleecker that has served as a revolving door for restaurants in recent years. He likens his change of scenery to the step up to the N.F.L. or the big time, if you like.
Killarney focuses his attention on a farm-to-table approach with only the freshest local ingredients (many from Hudson Valley). He revisits the importance of his staff as the bridge to the customer and representative of his beliefs. He insists that, in his restaurants, there are “no titles,” a fact that is displayed before my very eyes on a busy Friday night when an elderly couple peers in and he seizes the opportunity. When they ask if he is invested in the place, he fires back, “I am the head busboy,” and offers them a complimentary round. Although they had just eaten dinner, they end up ordering more food and staying for several rounds. The proof is in the pudding. Killarney leads by example and is no stranger to hard work and, often found busing the tables and sweeping the streets, he explains, “Restaurants are a seven-day-a-week business.”
His “in the trenches” attitude is perhaps the reason why he secured the much-coveted lease. One morning late last year, he witnessed what he assumed to be the owner of the building sweeping the pavement, and later in the day, face to face, they realized they were men cut from the same cloth, and the deal was done.
McCoy is located only a stone throw away from Keith McNally’s Minetta Tavern. McNally is a restaurateur who has established a tapestry for success within the contemporary NYC savvy foodie scene without alienating tourists. McCoy’s sleek, well lit bistro fit-out is a return to The Roaring Twenties with wonderful attention to detail. Bill McCoy, an American sea captain and rum runner during prohibition, smuggled alcohol from the Bahamas to the East Coast seaboard off Long Island, known as “Rum Row.” The then “speakeasies” scattered throughout NYC that sold great booze were referred to as the “Real McCoy.” Killarney has witnessed a dramatic negative shift in the paradigm of the American business culture, and ultimately cites pride and hard work as the crux of his business mantra.
The guarantee of success for NYC restaurateurs is a bleak prospect indeed, with four out of five restaurants destined to fail within five years of opening (according to businessinsider.com). Few considerations precede: Location. Location. Location. McCoy experiences a high volume of thoroughfare; a constant stream of tourist buses navigate Bleecker daily (over 50 million domestic and foreign tourists visited NYC last year, according to nycgo.com), is located close to NYU main campus, and is immersed in a famous live music hub. However, a good location is no guarantee in this game, for there are so many moving parts necessary to success and NYC diners are a fickle bunch indeed. Killarney explains you generally only get one chance to impress new customers, and that’s if you can get them through the door. In a city saturated by choice, careful attention must be paid to all the nuances from the obvious such as food, décor, and service, to the less visible such as lofty payroll, avoiding taxes, and high food costs.
There is no doubt in Killarney’s mind that New York is the center of the world, if not the universe. The eagerness of visitors to uncover this very phenomena first hand feeds into the beast that is New York City. Killarney takes great pride in having become part of the equation; he is part of the furniture of the famous Greenwich Village. He takes great pleasure in meeting his customers from different walks of life, hearing their stories, learning about the big old world. It is this very give and take that begins to make sense of the desire to open a restaurant in New York City, often against great odds. It’s still early days for McCoy but, as Killarney oscillates naturally from to table to table with humble grace, his kind face alludes to the fact that he is part of something bigger than him, bigger than us.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Notes from a Retired Bachelor (West View News)
Notes from a Retired Bachelor
By Christopher Daish
Published August 2012
Published August 2012
Notes from a Retired Bachelor
Surely it doesn’t get any better than being actively single in New York City, the most colorful and diverse city on earth, for I used to think so, but may I digress. When attempting to piece together the hazy bar stool encounters in search of what I thought was love, deep down all I wanted was a brief human embrace, the prospect of waking up next to that person and worse still having to wearily construct a breakfast that showed I cared and that the night wasn’t merely a transaction. Well, whom am I kidding.
In a city saturated with people, never have I encountered so many lonely souls. Most Sundays I used to leave my beloved decadent East Village squalor in search of these very types (insert self) and oscillate westward to The Windsor (West 4th at West 10th Streets) in what became “Office Hour Sundays” with my old mate from high school Cam McKnight. It felt like I had travelled back in time to my college days, surrounded by an army of men dressed in chinos and crisp collared shirts high fiving, talking stocks and fantasy football movement, and hoards of zombie-esque women in search of what they probably wouldn’t find three sauvignon blancs deep, reverting to online shopping banter. Restaurants had become oceans of couples on blind dates, matches made in cyberspace, heads in cell phones, devoid of human touch. Perhaps I’m getting carried away, but this is what I felt it had come to, technology driving us apart rather than bringing us together.
On the brink of throwing away my bohemian joie de vivre approach to life, and re-joining Facebook, I met Stephanie Suits. Everything made sense. Love is ever present and falls out the sky when you least expect it, and life is timing. Without the periods of loneliness and despair, and uncomfortable dates spent talking about dead pets, you cannot begin to appreciate the gift horse when it looks you in the mouth. The newfound lightness of being that Stephanie brought to my world made the merry-go-round of singledom a distant and forgotten memory. When you know, you know.
We will be tying the knot at my beloved Sydney Harbour Down Under on January 6th 2013. There is nothing like a Sydney summer to offset a NYC winter. We have accounted for one wedding crasher and they shall be fed and will have second dibs on the dance floor. Save the date.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Without a tissue
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A lifetime of street-cornered existence
Dusty memories pavements crack
Rain drops bouncing like fireflies
Forgotten pennies rain
Over my vagrant lost soul
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