Letter of Recommendation New York
Farewell to Loring Place, My Favorite Neighborhood Spot in New York
Published:
Loring Place is closing its doors on July 14, 2026.
The first time I ate at Loring Place in New York’s Greenwich Village was for a work dinner, maybe a year after its buzzy opening in 2016. Tucked in the lower-level private dining room, I can’t recall exactly what I ate from the set menu. The second time was for lunch a year after that, another business meeting, where I had the juicy burger.
Since then, I’ve eaten at Loring Place many times over. I’m not local to the neighborhood — I don’t even live in the state — so for me, it’s significant that I would repeatedly commute to the same place for a meal, in a city famous for welcoming talked-about new restaurants at a cheetah-like clip.
Now, it’s closing. And I’m sad about it.
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In late 2016, Loring Place debuted to its fair share of pomp and circumstance. As an alumnus of Danny Meyer (Union Square Café, Tabla) and Jean-Georges Vongerichten (abc kitchen), chef Dan Kluger striking out on his first solo project will do that. Plus, let’s not forget that it took nearly two years to complete and open the space, further adding to the anticipation. In its initial writeup, W Magazine called Loring Place “irresistibly hot.” Pete Wells raved about the grandma-style pizza in his review for the New York Times. (Like me, he loved the burger, too.) And, of course, celebrities followed; the likes of Chrissy Teigen and John Legend were spotted dining there. Combined, it had all the trappings of a hot spot.
But as hot as Loring Place still is nearly a decade later — I had to linger by the bar for a bit in a bid for a seat on a recent visit — what I’ve always loved was how accessible it felt. For a restaurant with a high-profile chef, a meal at Loring Place never felt precious or intimidating. Yes, the place is sleek with its dark wood walls and dim, atmospheric lighting. And the menu features a lot of vegetables that feel like they were likely plucked from the Union Square Greenmarket not 48 hours before you sat down. You can always tell how much intention was poured into the experience. It might actually have even been a little irreverent how casually I treated it over the years.
Despite proudly living in New Jersey, I’ll admit that I’ve considered Loring Place my neighborhood restaurant.
A few times, I’ve rolled up to Loring Place’s bar after coming from dinner elsewhere for a martini nightcap and a plate of cookies before making my way to the PATH station on 9th Street. You might never think that a dining room with Hollywood bonafides and cred with fashion magazines is the kind of place you amble into for cookies. (The Snickerdoodle is my favorite.) But maybe that’s just a mark of a great restaurant.
If you Google Loring Place now, you’ll see that it bills itself as a neighborhood restaurant. In a city like New York, that can mean a litany of things depending on zip code. But if forced to come up with a definition now, I would say a neighborhood restaurant is a place I can comfortably dine at no matter the occasion. Despite proudly living in New Jersey, I’ll admit that I’ve considered Loring Place my neighborhood restaurant. I’ve had many dinners here with groups of friends. When they served lunch, I once inhaled a calzone by myself. I’ve popped in for happy hours, especially when they started offering $1 pizza slices. And let’s not forget the business meetings I kept scheduling here. Does anyone at Loring Place know my name? Probably not, but would that preclude me from calling it my neighborhood restaurant?
When it was announced that Dan Kluger was closing up shop on West 8th, I kept trying to get back in there for a last hurrah. A spontaneous moment finally came one Tuesday a couple of weeks ago when a friend who’s never been agreed to join me for an early-bird dinner at 5:30 p.m. I was being a tad nostalgic about the whole thing, but not so effusive as to ruin someone else’s experience. We shared the sugar snap peas, the bowl of pasta with mushroom ragù and cabbage, and the cheeseburger. Given the vegetable-forward, farmer-fresh focus at Loring Place, you can order anything here and capture what Kluger is trying to do. But again, it’s the accessibility that always hits for me: Nothing is overly indulgent or unnecessarily luxurious, but the meal is always delicious.
Before heading back to Jersey, we naturally fawned over the plate of cookies. If my friend didn’t like the food, she didn’t let on. In fact, she asked our server if she could hold onto the menu (she likes to collect), which was returned to her, signed by Dan Kluger himself.
During that visit, I looked around the room as it filled up. All around me were reminders of all the meals I’ve had at Loring Place over the years: a four-top of work colleagues, a friend-group having a joyously boisterous dinner, and there was even an event happening in the private dining room. I pray there was someone taking advantage of the $1 slice at the bar, too.
They say that you can’t be something to everyone, but maybe — as far as restaurants are concerned — with Loring Place, we got close. And what we’re losing with its shuttering is somewhere to savor a great meal for whatever reason. And if no one’s waltzing in toward closing time to ask for a plate of cookies? Well, fret not, I’ll be that person, sneaking in at least one more time before Loring Place closes its doors for good on July 14th.
Loring Place is open daily starting at 5 p.m. Its last service will be on Tuesday, July 14.
Chadner Navarro is a journalist from Jersey City, N.J. Follow him on Instagram. Follow Resy, too.
