By Marco Shalma

New York didn’t have a bad food year because we lacked talent or ingredients. We had a bad food year because we lowered the bar and kept walking. We paid for hype, reposted mediocrity, defended bad meals out of embarrassment, and confused novelty with quality. I was around it. You were around it. Some of us were complicit. This isn’t a moral lecture. It’s a reckoning.

These aren’t abstract trends. These are things New Yorkers actively defended in 2025. Loudly. In group chats. On Instagram. At the table. If this list makes you mad, it’s probably because you recognize yourself in it.

1. Stuffing Two Foods Together and Calling It Innovation

We let food Frankensteinism run wild. Croissant tacos. Stuffed bagels stuffed with something else entirely. Pasta inside pizza inside bread inside regret. None of it tasted better than the original. We pretended it was creativity when it was really a shortcut to virality. Innovation isn’t combining two things you already like. It’s making one thing better. We forgot that.

2. Paying $150 for Omakase Just to Post It

Omakase stopped being about trust and became about proof. Proof you were there. Proof you got the reservation. Proof you could afford it. We paid triple for fish that wasn’t three times better and defended it because admitting disappointment would’ve made the post feel stupid. Sushi became a flex instead of a meal, and we played along.

3. Calling Corporate Food Halls “The Future of Food”

We watched food halls turn into mall food courts with fonts and still called it progress. The same vendors. The same menus. The same rent structures that crush small operators. We told ourselves it was access and convenience, not consolidation. Then we wondered why everything started tasting the same.

4. Letting Delivery Apps Shrink Portions Without Complaining

Prices went up. Portions went down. Fees multiplied. We noticed. We said nothing. We tipped, reordered, and blamed inflation instead of the platforms quietly redesigning menus to protect margins. We accepted less food for more money because convenience felt easier than confrontation.

5. Going to Restaurants for the DJ, Not the Cooking

Dinner turned into a pregame. If the music was loud and the lighting was red, we forgave bland food and slow service. Restaurants became nightlife props. Kitchens became background noise. When the vibe mattered more than the plate, flavor lost every time.

6. Chasing Pop-Ups That Vanish Before Anyone Reviews Them

We chased urgency instead of quality. One weekend only. Limited run. Blink and you miss it. We lined up for places that disappeared before accountability arrived. No reviews. No consistency. No consequences. Just a memory and a story that started with “you had to be there.”

7. Trusting Influencer Picks Instead of Your Own Taste

We outsourced judgment. Saved posts replaced personal instinct. We ate where we were told, not where we were hungry. When the meal disappointed, we blamed timing, not taste. Food became content first, experience second. We forgot how to decide for ourselves.

8. Paying Tourist Prices Because a Place Felt “Iconic”

We paid airport prices in our own city and justified it with nostalgia. The food wasn’t good. The service wasn’t warm. The bill was insane. We smiled anyway because the place had history. Iconic stopped meaning excellent and started meaning exempt from criticism.

9. Buying Food Because It Was a Limited Drop

Food started behaving like sneakers. Drops. Waitlists. Sellouts. We bought meals the way people buy merch. Not because we were hungry, but because scarcity felt like value. We let artificial limits replace actual demand and called it excitement.

10. Defending Bad Meals Because the Concept Was New

This one’s on all of us. We defended weak execution because we liked the idea. We said “they’re still figuring it out” like rent, time, and money are infinite. Concepts don’t deserve grace. Meals do. New doesn’t mean unfinished, and unfinished shouldn’t cost full price.

Here’s the uncomfortable part. None of this was forced on us. We participated. We showed up. We paid. We defended. We posted. We let embarrassment turn into loyalty. We let novelty outrun standards.

New York is still the best food city in the world. That’s not in danger. What’s in danger is how casually we excuse bullshit. This city works because people push back. Because cooks are judged. Because diners are demanding. Because hype doesn’t survive long when flavor doesn’t show up.

2025 wasn’t a failure. It was a warning. We can keep eating like customers chasing moments, or we can go back to eating like New Yorkers who know what good food actually is.

Next year, order less hype. Ask harder questions. Walk away faster. And if a meal sucks, say it out loud.

That’s how this city stays sharp.