New York City's Freewheeling Era of Outdoor Dining Has Come to End

Outdoor tables saved thousands of New York City restaurants from ruin when they were forced to close their dining rooms during the COVID-19 pandemic.
But four years into an experiment that transformed New York’s streetscape — briefly giving it a sidewalk cafe scene as vibrant as Paris or Buenos Aires — the freewheeling era of outdoor dining has come to an end.
Over the weekend, restaurants hit a deadline to choose between abiding by a strict set of regulations for their alfresco setups or dismantling them entirely — and thousands chose to tear down the plywood dining structures that sprouted on roadways in the pandemic's early days.
Fewer than 3,000 restaurants have applied for roadway or sidewalk seats under the new system, a fraction of the 13,000 establishments that participated in the temporary Open Restaurants program since 2020, according to city data.
Mayor Eric Adams said the new guidelines address complaints that the sheds had become magnets for rats and disorder, while creating a straightforward application process that will expand access to permanent outdoor dining.
But many restaurant owners say the rules will have the opposite effect, dooming a vestige of the pandemic that gave them unusual freedom to turn parking spaces into rent-free extensions of their dining rooms with minimal red-tape.
“They’ve found a middle ground to do one thing while saying another thing,” said Patrick Cournot, the co-founder of Ruffian, a Manhattan wine bar. “They’ve managed us out, essentially.”
Ramshackle plywood dining structures seemed to sprout from New York City’s streets almost overnight in the early days of the COVID pandemic.
With its crowded sidewalks and traffic-choked streets, the city had never really been known previously for an outdoor dining scene. But with customers banned from congregating indoors for months, the city gave restaurants a green light to expand dining areas onto public sidewalks and roadways.
Simple sheds for outdoor seating were soon replaced or expanded into more elaborate constructions, which have remained standing long after the days of social distancing and disinfected groceries. Restaurants added planters, twinkling lights, flowers and heating lamps so people could dine outdoors well into the cold weather. Other outside dining spaces appeared inside heated igloos, or with open fire places and under tiered rooftops.
Now, these structures must conform to uniform design standards, with licensing and square footage fees that could total thousands of dollars a year, depending on size and location.
But the most significant change, according to many restaurants, is a requirement that the roadside sheds be taken down between December and April each year.
That's a deal-breaker for Blend, a Latin Fusion restaurant in Queens that once won an Alfresco Award for its “exemplary” outdoor set-up.
“I understand they want to keep it consistent and whatever else, but it’s just too much work to have to take it down every winter,” said manager Nicholas Hyde. “We’re not architects. We’re restaurant managers.”
Blend's 60 outdoor seats “kept us alive” during the pandemic and remained well-used with diners who “since COVID just want to be able to enjoy themselves outside,” Hyde said. But after looking over the application, they decided to remove the curbside structure, opting instead to apply for sidewalk seating that can remain year-round.
Of the 2,592 restaurants that have applied for the new program, roughly half will forgo roadway set-ups in favor of sidewalk-only seating, according to the city.
Karen Jackson, a teacher, was going to lunch indoors Tuesday at Gee Whiz diner in Tribeca, one of the restaurants that took its outdoor shed down ahead of the deadline.
Jackson said she has mixed feelings, recalling how having coffee outside in a shed was one of the few entertainment options available early in the pandemic, The Associated Press reported.
“Some of them were really cute,” but others were unattractive and rat-infested, Jackson said.
“Unfortunately I think the places with more money were able to build the cute sheds and the places that were struggling couldn’t,” she said.
Andrew Riggie, the executive director of the NYC Hospitality Alliance, said the city should examine why so few eligible restaurants have applied, and consider how costly it will be to take down, store and rebuild the structures each year.
Applications for roadway dining structures must also undergo a review from local community boards, where some of the fiercest debates over outdoor dining have played out. Opponents have complained that the sheds eliminate parking, contribute to excessive noise and attract vermin.
On the Lower East Side, a row of sheds owned by a sushi counter, a coffee shop, a Mexican eatery and a Filipino restaurant stand side-by-side.
Paola Martinez, a manager at Barrio Chino, the Mexican restaurant, acknowledged the trash headaches and neighborhood conflict — on one particularly busy night, an angry neighbor hurled glass at the structure from an upstairs window, she said. But her restaurant has applied to stay in the roadway.
“It attracts a lot more people to the area,” she said. “It’s been great for business.”
City officials say restaurants who missed the deadline are welcome to apply in the future, while those that haven't will soon be fined $1,000 each day their set-ups remain.
Watching contractors take a crowbar to his once-vibrant dining shed, Cournot described a sense of relief. He said the sheds had come to symbolize an incredibly challenging period when a coworker died from the virus and a drop in sales nearly ended his East Village wine bar.
“When people say it’s the end of an era, I think it’s the end of a uniquely awful era for restaurants in New York,” Cournet said. “Like going through any kind of extended group trauma, the positives that we feel collectively are a little bit of a mirage.”

Let’s get one thing out of the way first: I did not entirely understand everything that happens in “Cuckoo," a new indie horror in theaters Friday.

This could be more of a me problem than with the storytelling, but there are a lot of strange things happening at this particular Alpine resort. It's run by a bespectacled German hotelier named Herr König, played with an off-kilter menace by Dan Stevens.

Some of the occurrences are underexplained, others underexplored. Herr König seems particularly worried about things that happen after dark, but not so much about guests wandering into the reception and general store in a wobbly stupor and vomit. Are they drunk? Sick? Should someone help them? All we get is: “It happens.” The hospital, too, is eerily empty.

Sonic vibrations often ripple through the land, causing scenes to repeat until reaching a violent crescendo. And no one seems to listen to or care about anything 17-year-old Gretchen (Hunter Schafer) has to say, no matter how banged up she gets. The quick escalation of her injuries, and the widening disinterest of her father, approaches comedy.

Ambiguity can be wonderful for mystery and worldbuilding; It can also be frustrating. And more often than not, detailed explanations just make everything lamer. “Cuckoo” dips into all of the above. Even so, it is undeniably fascinating, original and even occasionally fun, in a very twisted and deranged way in which laughter is your involuntary response to something horrifying. In her captivating lead performance, Schafer really goes through it, both physically and emotionally.

It also features Stevens sporting tiny, rimless glasses with sinisterly scandi-cool monochrome outfits, and a screaming ghoul with Hitchcockian glamour in a hooded trench and white-framed oval sunnies. Rarely is it a bad idea for a horror film to lean into style, and “Cuckoo” fully commits.

“Cuckoo” is the brainchild of German director Tilman Singer, but credit also goes to Singer’s predecessors: The works of David Lynch and Dario Argento among them. Gretchen is a reluctant resident in the idyllic, modern home with her detached father (Martin Csokas), stepmother (Jessica Henwick) and mute half-sister Alma (Mila Lieu). She leaves increasingly desperate messages on her mother’s answering machine in America.

It’s certainly an exaggerated but apt portrait of a new family where the remnants of the old are treated like a nuisance. When Alma starts having seizures during the vibrations, which no one but Gretchen seems to remember or acknowledge, the parents’ attention turns fully to the young girl. They can barely be bothered to care about Gretchen's miraculous survival of a horrifying car wreck; Alma is in the same hospital because of the episodes.

As with many horrors, the big reveals were, for this critic, a little underwhelming — a strained attempt at a unifying theory for this weird place that doesn’t add much ultimately. And yet the emotional connection to Gretchen and her complex relationship with Alma does pay off in unexpected ways.

Also, Stevens deserves special acknowledgement for his contributions to “Cuckoo.” This is a man who could have easily languished in blandly handsome leading man roles and instead is becoming one of our great character actors. He is regularly the best and most memorable part of whatever he’s in just by his sheer commitment to going there, whether it’s his Hawaiian shirt wearing titan veterinarian in “Godzilla x Kong,” his Russian pop star in “Eurovision” or any number of his deranged horror characters. He and Schafer, always a compelling presence, make “Cuckoo” very much worth it. They exist far too comfortably in this dreamy, nightmarish world dreamt up by Singer that is well worth a watch.

New York City's Freewheeling Era of Outdoor Dining Has Come to End