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"Let Me Tell You" is a series of columns from our expert editors about NYC living, including the best things to do, where to eat and drink, and what to see at the theater. They publish each Tuesday so you’re hearing from us each week. Last time, Things to Do Editor Rossilynne Skena Culgan shared 25 New Year's resolutions for New Yorkers.
New York City's subway system is built for efficiency. As soon as the subway doors pop open at my stop, I hustle (typically running late) to the next place I'm going. The subway station itself passes in a blur. I might briefly admire the art or say “hi” to pizza rat and his ilk, but I'm focused on finding the exit to get to my next destination. That's why it was so unusual for me to intentionally stop in my tracks to spend six hours inside the 50th Street 1 Station for this reporting project. My underground sojourn turned out to be a delightful, only-in-New-York way to spend a day—an experience packed with comforting chai, excellent thin-crust pizza, creative cocktails, great company, and a sense of joy I saw over and over. So allow me to beckon you: Let's go underground. Here's how (and why) to do it.
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For a while now, I'd been hearing the buzz about See No Evil Pizza, the underground pizza parlor inside a subway station. I heard it was next to Nothing Really Matters, a cocktail bar I visited a few years back and loved (incidentally, it was the first bar I visited after pandemic restrictions lifted, giving me an extra special affinity for it). I started to think about combining the two experiences into one date night. Then, I realized there was also a cafe in the same vicinity, so I decided to merge all three into one epic experience. It went a little something like this.
2pm
I arrived at the 50th Street Station (the Downtown station at 50th and Broadway) and joined the horde of people descending down the stairs. I let them pass me as they hustled to the subway platform. Instead of rushing, I slipped inside Tiny Dancer, an all-day cafe with coffee, espresso, and pastries. The space, with its marble countertop, original 1950s tile-work, and glassware hung overhead, feels romantic, though its exposed concrete ceiling and flooring remind you that you're still in a subway station.
I ordered a chai and debated between an array of snacks—cinnamon rolls, croissants, kouign amman, savory focaccia, and sandwiches. I decided on a cinnamon roll, which the barista kindly warmed up, making it taste as if it had just come from the oven.
2:30pm
As I sipped my chai, I chatted with Adrien Gallo, the owner of the trio of underground dining establishments. Back in 2019, he was looking to combine his experience in hotels, restaurants, and bars to open a new cocktail bar in an unconventional space.
"I love doing things in spaces that don't make much sense, per se. Or forgotten spaces that most people would be like, 'what am I going to do with this?'" Gallo told me.
“I love doing things in spaces that don't make much sense.”
Gallo's realtor understood the assignment, taking him into the subway station to show him a former storage facility once used by Duane Reade. It was empty, other than a box or two laying around. "I immediately walked in, and I was like, 'I'll take it,'" Gallo recalls.
He signed the lease and started doing work on cocktail bar Nothing Really Matters, but then the pandemic began, halting work. Gallo nearly walked away from the project three times, but, as a self-funded proprietor, he worried about taking the financial hit and persevered, eventually opening on New Year's Eve of 2021 leading into 2022.
Though the space is underground—and Gallo was tempted to keep it as much of a secret as possible—word quickly got out, and Nothing Really Matters became a hit. So much of a hit, in fact, that Gallo was able to eventually open coffee shop Tiny Dancer and pizza place See No Evil, but we'll get to those later.
3:30pm
After our chat, I logged into the Wi-Fi to catch up on emails. Tiny Dancer (note the Elton John reference) isn't really the type of place you'd hole up for eight hours to work on a laptop. Instead, it has more of an Italian corner cafe vibes where you can grab an espresso (drank standing up, thank you very much), pick up something to-go (American-style, if you will), or order something to hang out for a bit.
As I worked, I couldn't help but gaze out the window at the commuters, wondering where they were going. An art student dropped by to sketch on coasters, which his barista friend dutifully hung up with the collection of other hand-drawn creations. There was a celeb sighting (I won’t say who, sorry!). A group from Minnesota stopped to grab lattes. A man came in to order a tea and charge his phone. Somebody else caught up on a phone call while warming up with a drink in the corner.
It's hard to believe this space used to be a smoke shop/bodega packed before Gallo scooped it up.
5pm
As the workday came to a close, I packed up my laptop to head across the hall for dinner with my husband. Yes, New Yorkers, don’t judge me. A 5pm dinner reservation just made sense given my timeline for the day. Even though it was early by New York standards, See No Evil Pizza (named for the punk band Television's title track) was already bustling.
The restaurant is known for its thin-crust pizzas made by executive chef and partner Ed Carew.
"He's an expert in his field and his craft. He's not just a pizza chef, a pizzaiolo. He's a classically trained chef," Gallo says. "To bring that level of expertise to a pizza place in a subway is fucking magical."
“To bring that level of expertise to a pizza place in a subway is fucking magical.”
Before diving into a pie, we started with the crisp Caesar salad and the Toast Alla Veloce, consisting of a piece of polenta bread, topped with fresh sardines, caper-mint salsa, mozzarella, and spicy fresno peppers. I would have never ordered it, but Gallo insisted—and he was so right. I'll definitely order it again next time.
When it came time for pizza, we opted for the classic cheese pizza. Its combination of mozzarella, caciocavallo, and parmigiano cheeses made for the iconic orangey tone but with elevated ingredients. Each slice was perfectly foldable for bite after delicious bite until just the lightly charred crust awaited. Other popular pies on the menu include the Funghi with mushrooms and the Hell Pie, a spicy meaty combo featuring hot soppressata. Fun fact: All of the pizzas can be made gluten-free if you wish!
5:30pm
Don’t leave without dessert. I opted for a shareable dish of vanilla soft serve. During the meal, I noticed passersby glancing in the windows, some seemingly gobsmacked by the carb oasis found inside an unlikely place. Some commuters acted practically cartoonish, nearly drooling as they exited the subway station while looking back at the pizzas.
"It's such a wonderful moment for people not only to find us down here," Gallo says. "But then also to really sink into a booth at any of these places and just really experience New York the way we envisioned it."
Before Gallo built out See No Evil, the space was a Dunkin’ Donuts. He worked with Little Wing Lee of Studio & Projects to design it with cozy wood tones, soft lights, and retro red booths. It feels elevated, like a spot you'd find in the East Village, rather than just steps from a subway platform near Times Square.
6:15pm
After dinner, we headed next door to Nothing Really Matters. While Tiny Dancer and See No Evil have signs announcing their presence, Nothing Really Matters sticks to its speakeasy-style ethos with an entrance that feels secretive. Occasionally, though, the team leaves the front door open, offering passersby a peek inside. Once inside, a colorful display of bottles behind the bar commands attention. The bottles, carefully organized by head mixologist Cyllan Hicks, are lit from beneath, making each one glow inside the dimly lit space.
"I wanted someone to walk down (the subway stairs), see the wave of liquor that we have, and be like, 'What is this place? I really need to go there.' That was the whole design element. It was really starting with the wow factor of people walking by in what was a neglected subway station. And then they see something really beautiful and they can have a really beautiful martini," Gallo said.
Hicks takes cocktails seriously, regularly updating the menu with drinks divided by spirit. On the menu now, there's a cinematic presentation for the whiskey drink Cloak & Dagger and a transportative tropical vibe to the rum-based Hibiscus Daiquri. Other standouts include the Chai Tai with rum, the Milk & Cookies with mezcal, the classic Vesper, and Cyllan's Rum Punch.
For those looking for a booze-free option, there are several, including the well-balanced Winter's Tonic, with rosemary, lemon, orange, tonic, and spices.
7:50pm
As a disco ball casts light around the elegantly designed room by Tabula Studio, it's hard to imagine it as the empty storage space that Gallo skateboarded around during the height of the pandemic. It was during one of those skateboarding sessions, while listening to Queen, that the "Bohemian Rhapsody" lyric "nothing really matters" jumped out to him. At last, the bar had a name.
"Oddly, it was a very poignant moment in time where the world was kind of almost ending. And I was like, well, nothing really matters anyway. So let's move on with this, you know?" he says. "The idea was to design the space, especially back then, that when you walked in, the world fell away. It was like this oasis underground. You just stared into a cocktail. You had a wonderful conversation with whoever you're with or with the bartender. Or you just sat in silence and just relaxed for a little bit because, for lack of a better term, there was so much anxiety during that time."
“When you walked in, the world fell away. It was like this oasis underground.”
Nothing Really Matters has achieved its underground oasis status. Inside its doors, you can't hear the subway and the street noise that lies just steps away. You can't feel the responsibilities and challenges that may lie just steps away, too. Instead, it's a place to enjoy a drink, expertly prepared in ornate glassware. Though some of the same anxieties from 2020 remain, others have been replaced with fresh, new worries. Gallo's practically resort-like destination amid a midtown subway station offers a balm.
"I guess the only thing I took away from it was I couldn't feel sorry for myself because it was happening the entire world," he says about the pandemic. "There was no moment in time where I was like, 'oh, have pity on me.' It was more like, 'Ah, fuck it. Let's do something, you know. Let's make it better.'"
Cheers to that, Adrien.