A Week In the Life of Red Gate Bakery

Come be a regular with me.

In my Michelin days, I remember having dinner with an inspector who was lamenting the fact that we would never be regulars at a restaurant for as long as we had our jobs. It was true; eating somewhere new every night was the entire gig. But I realized in that moment that being a regular was not something I’d ever wanted. Maybe you know that old cliché of sidling up to a bar where everyone knows your name? It was never for me.

Even after leaving Michelin, after regaining some of my independence as my toddler grew into hers, even now, I still don’t get it. I’ve always lived for newness. Apparently, there’s a word for this — newphoria. I saw it the other day on a subway ad in bold lettering above the new iPhone 15. It’s witty and clever, but also kind of sinister if you think about it. We’re all addicted to new things, just like we were once all afraid of missing out on something.

(I’ll never forget the day in 2012 when an account manager at the ad agency I worked at told me about “fomo,” an emerging trend in behavioral sciences at the time).

The suits on Madison Avenue really ate with this one.

Most of my lack of interest in being a regular is rooted in the fact that I’ve always held a safe distance between myself and others. Partly, this is because I grew up having to explain things like where Pakistan (my ethnic origin) is on a map and that, no, it’s not India. Educating people about such a fundamental aspect of my existence instilled in me a sense that maybe I, too, am distant and remote. To this day, I can’t shake the pervasive feeling of being a novelty in the crowd.

From a business perspective, restaurants live for their regulars. Newphoria-chasers like me come and go and that kind of flippancy can hardly sustain a business. The chef’s I’ve interviewed over the years get starry-eyed when imagining their restaurant as the backdrop for a neighborhood’s quotidian days. Like Keith McNally’s Odeon in Tribeca. Or Naama and Assaf Tamir’s Lighthouse restaurant in Williamsburg.

So, this week, I’m trying something new. I set out to answer the question: what does it feel like to be a regular? I picked Red Gate, a bakery in the East Village, and went there every day that it was open for a week. Greg Rales, the owner, opened the bakery in December 2019. He is known for making lovable cakes and cookies. Perfect.

For the assignment, I kept a running journal, took lots of photos, and of course I ate through the pastry case.

Thursday. 11:20 am. 35 degrees, feels like 26. Oof.

Days with a sharp chill like this make me really think about how I choose to spend my time. Most people brave the elements to get to their workplace for important meetings or whatever else it is people do at work. I’m out here looking for cake.