2024 Flood's Year in Review

The road ends here

Today’s post, the last of 2024, is a little more journal entry, a little less polished newsletter. Flood’s Year in Review is a stream of consciousness featuring highs from the year, special memories, and some of my favorite photos. Whether you’ve been hanging at Flood’s for a while, or recently found your way in — I just wanted to say thank you so much for being here. There’s more to come.

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2024

My favorite meal of 2024 came on the 13th day of the year. Sitting here in December, it’s strange to acknowledge that my year in dining peaked so soon, especially for someone who sought out excellent restaurants all year long. But it did.

Stumbling out of Salle Climatisée’s 20-seat dining room into the snowy Montreal streets, a bone-chilling gust triggered a fleeting sensation of sobriety and a vivid moment of mindfulness. Snow up to my ankles, shockingly wine-drunk, riding a high that only a spontaneous night can deliver — I was unbelievably happy and felt so alive. Restaurants can be inspiring, impactful, and even transformative — I know this to be true. That night at Salle Climatisée was all of the above. Through the medium of food, wine, and most importantly, hospitality, I walked away with new perspectives on life, joy, and human connection.

The 14th day of the year was, notably, my most violently hungover day of 2024 — the consequence of heavy pours of Austrian wine, shots of grappa, and late-night Molsons at a divey karaoke bar. This, I concluded, was a fair tradeoff.

Landing back in New York City, my year felt like it had intention and direction. Inspired to live a little more carefree, a little less calculated. Motivated to make, not more, but more meaningful new friendships. Driven to build out my creative toolkit — writing, photography, graphic design, and playlist creation — and put together a portfolio I’m proud of.

February is usually the shittiest month of the year in the city. But this February was excellent. My parents visited — they’re a continuous source of inspiration for me, and I get so stoked to show them my spots. We dined at Fradei — sharing tangerine salad and beef cheek caramelle — and cozied into Hartley’s for after-dinner pints. My kinda night.

11's: Places to Drink a Beer in NYC

I don’t go out any less in the winter, but I do find myself seeking places and spaces to hunker down and stay awhile, rather than hopping bars and traversing neighborhoods with pace and enthusiasm. Leisurely mornings at Villager, late nights at Jones Bar. Casual Sunday dinners at Cafe Spaghetti and Kafana — optimal scenes for comfort and warmth. Tables for 6, house red wine, slight overordering — you know the drill.

One of those Sunday dinners was at Sailor, which captivated me with its blue awning, nautical gold trim, and a glass facade that lets you see every seat in the house, like a ship in a bottle. It’s a special spot, the most destination-worthy restaurant in my neighborhood, Fort Greene. Sailor kept me enthralled across many visits this year. Every time I walk past, I wish I was sitting down for dinner.

We got hit with one unseasonably warm weekend in February, and people went a little nuts, myself included. My friend Reid, who runs the pizza pop-up Bad Larry’s, threw a party in the backyard at Roberta’s, slinging pies out of their wood-fired oven. It was badass — his best pizzas to date (and I’ve had a lot of them). Days like that are why living in a city with seasonality rocks.

In March, I ran back another round in Mexico City, just a year after my first trip down. Repeating travel destinations is something I avoided for a while, just because there are so many places I haven’t been that I desperately want to explore. But Mexico City feels like a place I could visit every year and not get tired of. Even though it’s a buzzing city, it’s shockingly unoppressive — the pace is slow, and I feel like I can really chill out. Mexico City’s food scene is unparalleled — I don’t think there’s a place that nails it on both high-brow and street eats quite like it. Jenni’s blue corn masa street quesadillas for lunch, and exuberant dining at Máximo for dinner. High-energy, seafood-forward late lunches at Mi Compa Chava and Contramar where we ordered the whole damn menu. Two transcendent meals at Choza. Concinita pibil, chilaquiles, and marlin burritos for the time and space in between. There’s so much to love about CDMX, and an endless amount to discover.

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On the other side of the Mexico City trip was a very welcome lull in NYC. I wouldn’t call it post-trip depression, but certainly post-trip chill-the-fuck-out with the dinners. I hit some great coffee shops during that stretch — treks over to SEY, Loveless, and Hamlet — which are now all mainstays in my rotation.

There was a quick Toronto jaunt mixed into late April to watch my brother’s playoff hockey run. Toronto isn’t really a place I’d visit for the hell of it, but if you have a purpose, it’s a worthy city with plenty to offer. On the day between games, we snuck in a bang-bang-bang of Bar Isabel, Bar Raval, and Bernhardt’s. Double dinners are a sneaky great move. I don’t do it often, but I’m always reminded how fun it is, especially on the road as a way of seeing what a city’s all about. The next day the Sens got the W.

The fam met up in Italy in late May, which was a big deal and a long time coming. My full name would lead you to believe I’ve been to the motherland hundreds of times. Hell, you might even assume I grew up there. But you’d be wrong — we were all rookies. Bouncing around Rome, Florence, Bologna, and Modena was the perfect intro — we’ll certainly be back. We’re a family that, unsurprisingly, bonds best over food. And mannnn we had some meals. Vini e Vecchi in Florence was a special one — a night lifted by spirited hospitality (and also duck ragu). The most memorable meal of the trip was off-the-beaten-path in the small town of San Giovanni. Antica Osteria del Mirasole was old-world, farm-to-table brilliance. One of the best meals of the year. Maybe ever.

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Throughout most of my adult life, I haven’t been much of a birthday celebrator. It’s the center-of-attention thing I don’t like. But thankfully, my friends Connor and Hailey share the same week of birth, so the love feels nicely distributed when we’re together. We gathered a crew and headed north to Montreal for a little summer soiree — my January experience may have slightly influenced the choice of destination. We rented a crib, dined lavishly, hit the floating spa, and had some psychedelic park hangs. Beba and Pichai were both stellar, standout meals. And round 2 at Salle Climatisée, this time with some of my best friends along for the ride, was one hell of a time. Montreal really has it going.

Peak summer is best spent in West Michigan, I stand by it. The days are long, and the sunsets are vibrant. I’ll gladly take a break from restaurants if it means Dad is on the grill. Smoked pork shoulder, lots of fish, handmade pasta. He runs the show, but I’ll gladly stand in as sous and take any responsibility thrown my way. My pan con tomate received high marks. Nobody cooks like Dad.

Late summer was a serious blur. Connor visited for the Justice concert, and we had a hot one-two of Cervo’s and Misi — two places I love taking out-of-towners. Hannah and I had a brilliant lunch at Cafe Mado, catching up over espresso tonics and very tasty bean dip. We celebrated Sam’s birthday in Red Hook — Sunny’s for beers, Red Hook Tavern for burgers. Rory snagged a res at the final Ha’s Dac Biet pop-up at Leo. It was a killer stretch with phenomenal people. But damn those days went fast.

Cervo's

Cafe Mado

Red Hook Tavern

I made a couple of trips to Chicago in the fall. Mostly to visit Connor, who moved back after a stint in Seattle — we used to live together in Lincoln Park. But also, because I found myself missing it. I missed my friends, and I missed my old spots. Galit is one of those places, Dove’s Luncheonette too. We ate pasta in the new Daisies space. Had phenomenal cocktails at Queen Mary and Cara Cara. I had a beautiful solo lunch at Lula. Compared and contrasted breakfast sandos at Kasama and Allez Café. Let our hair down at Inner Town Pub. When I moved out of Chicago in 2021, I thought I had outgrown the city. Looking back, I don’t think that’s true. Chicago is comfortable and manageable, and I wanted to push myself toward something challenging and unfamiliar in New York. But as a city, Chicago has everything it needs, and more. It’ll always be a special place for me.

The rest of my fall was spent parked in New York, which was exactly where I wanted to be after a year on the move. Days spent hanging in Fort Greene Park. A special night at the legendary Lucali. A miraculous walk-in at Torrisi. My family came to town for Thanksgiving — we huddled around the bar eating oysters at Maison Premiere before settling into a feast at Eyval. An unconventional, but memorable time together.

Eyval

Earlier this month, a little on-a-whim, I took a trip down to Austin to see my buddy Maverick who moved back home this year. We had a few great years together in NYC and I was missing our hangs tremendously. He’s a great friend and one hell of a host. We hit Birdie’s for French-bistro night, ate breakfast tacos at Texas Honey Ham, went record shopping at Waterloo, and capped things off with a legendary barbeque hit at Interstellar. I fully understand the Austin appeal — the country western aesthetic, the easy access to nature, the serious Tex-Mex situations. So glad I went down.

It’s been one hell of a year. I’m grateful to be surrounded by such incredible people — friends, family, and supportive strangers. It’s a privilege to be able to travel freely and to have a platform to share my creative endeavors — I don’t take it for granted. Thank you again for being here, for reading, and for following along. See you in 2025.