By Marco Shalma

Spending the holidays alone only sounds sad to people who don’t live here. In New York, it’s a quiet flex. While the rest of the country is passing around dry turkey and emotional landmines, we’re out here eating some of the best food in the city without having to explain our life choices to a single soul.

Let them wrestle with casseroles. We have Chinatown.

Walk into Golden Unicorn on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day and you’ll see the real New York — families, solo eaters, big tables, small tables, dumplings dropping from carts like blessings. Nobody asks why you’re alone. They assume you’re smart. Grab shrimp har gow, siu mai, a roast duck plate, whatever speaks to you. It’s the unofficial safehouse for people avoiding holiday madness.

A few blocks away, Hop Kee stays doing what it’s done since ’68: feeding anyone who walks down those stairs. Solo diners blend right in. Order salt-and-pepper squid or the late-night beef dishes that feel like armor against seasonal depression. Half the Jews in Manhattan have eaten here on Christmas at least once. It’s tradition.

Slide uptown. Harlem doesn’t miss.

Sylvia’s keeps the lights warm and the plates heavy — mac, collards, fried chicken, short ribs. Sit alone at a table and nobody gives you that “Are you okay?” look. You’re more than okay. You’re eating better than most families within a five-mile radius.

If you want something a little smoother, Red Rooster is the move. A bar seat, a cocktail, a plate of fried chicken or the yardbird. The room feels like community without the claustrophobia. A holiday without the pressure to perform.

Or head downtown and treat yourself the way the season keeps telling us to. The Fulton at the Seaport stays open when half the city shuts their doors. You get seafood with a skyline and a table that doesn’t feel awkward when you’re alone. A glass of wine, oysters you don’t have to share, a quiet moment in a loud month.

And this is why spending the holidays solo in New York isn’t a tragedy. It’s strategic. There’s no small talk. No questions about your dating life. No forced cheer. No folding chairs dragged out from a basement. Just you, the cold air, a restaurant that actually wants your business, and a plate that takes better care of you than Aunt Linda ever did.

Walk out after dessert and you get something rare — a quiet New York. Streets breathing. Lights glowing. The city finally exhaling after weeks of performing for tourists. That peace is the real holiday gift.

So if you’re alone this year, congratulations.

You’re about to eat better than everyone posting group photos out of obligation.

Bring your appetite.

New York will handle the rest.

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