New York City has a funny way of making you feel like a regular one day and a stranger the next. If you spent any time in Times Square or the Upper West Side during the late nineties or the early aughts, you probably remember the red glow. You remember the massive, sort of intimidating Buddha statues. You definitely remember the dim sum. Ruby Foos New York City wasn’t just a restaurant; it was a vibe before "vibe" was a corporate buzzword. It was loud. It was theatrical. Honestly, it was a little bit chaotic.
People loved it. People also loved to hate it.
The thing about Ruby Foos is that it represented a very specific moment in Manhattan’s culinary timeline. It was the era of the "mega-restaurant." We’re talking about massive floor plans, hundreds of seats, and a design budget that could probably fund a small indie film. When Steve Hanson and his BR Guest Hospitality group opened the first location on Broadway and 77th Street in 1999, it felt like a shift. Suddenly, Pan-Asian cuisine wasn't just about the food; it was about the spectacle of David Rockwell’s design. It was about the red lacquer and the sushi gold.
The Rise of the Red Lacquer Empire
Why did Ruby Foos New York City work so well for so long? Accessibility.
If you were a tourist coming in for a Broadway show, it was safe but exciting. If you were an Upper West Side parent, it was a place where your kids could be loud and nobody would glare at you. The menu was a massive, sprawling list that tried to do everything. You had sushi. You had pad thai. You had tamarind-glazed ribs. Was it the most authentic Asian cuisine in the city? Probably not. Even the critics at the time, like Ruth Reichl or William Grimes, noted that while the food was "good enough," the real draw was the energy.
It was high-drama dining.
The Upper West Side flagship was a massive success, leading to the Times Square outpost at 1626 Broadway. That second location was even more of a beast. It had two levels, a giant staircase that made everyone feel like they were making an entrance, and a level of noise that made intimate conversation basically impossible. But that was the point. You went to Ruby Foos to feel like you were in the middle of the action.
When the Glitter Started to Fade
Nothing lasts forever in the New York restaurant scene. Not even giant Buddhas.
By the mid-2000s, the "Pan-Asian" trend started to feel a little dated. The city's palate was changing. Foodies started looking for hyper-regional authenticity—they wanted specific Sichuan heat or very particular types of ramen. The sprawling, do-it-all menu of Ruby Foos New York City started to look like a relic of a different time.
Then came the business shifts.
Steve Hanson eventually sold a majority stake in BR Guest to Starwood Capital Group in 2007. When big equity firms get involved in hospitality, the soul of a place often starts to thin out. Costs get cut. The "magic" gets standardized. By 2009, the Times Square location shuttered. It was a massive blow to the brand's visibility. While the Upper West Side location hung on for a few more years, the writing was on the wall.
It officially closed its doors in 2015.
The space on 77th Street didn't stay empty for long, but for many locals, the corner never felt quite the same. It was replaced by an upscale Italian spot, which is fine, but it lacks that neon-red, over-the-top personality that defined the Ruby Foo’s era.
The Cultural Footprint of Pan-Asian Fusion
We often overlook how much restaurants like Ruby Foos New York City influenced how we eat today. Before the 2000s, "fusion" was a fancy word found only in high-end spots like Nobu or Vong. Ruby Foos brought that concept to the masses. It made it okay to have miso soup and a chocolate cake the size of a brick at the same table.
- The Rockwell Effect: Architect David Rockwell used this space to prove that a restaurant could be a stage set.
- The "Great Wall of Chocolate": If you know, you know. That cake was a local legend.
- Crowd Management: They mastered the art of flipping hundreds of tables without making it feel like a cafeteria (mostly).
There’s a certain nostalgia now for that kind of "maximalist" dining. Today’s restaurants are often minimalist, with white walls, blonde wood, and very "quiet" aesthetics. Ruby Foos was the opposite of quiet. It was a scream of color and sound.
Finding the Spirit of Ruby Foos Today
You can't go back to the original Ruby Foos New York City, but you can find its DNA elsewhere. If you’re looking for that same blend of high-energy dining and Pan-Asian flavors, places like Buddakan in Chelsea or Tao (both Midtown and Uptown) are the spiritual successors. They took the "mega-restaurant" blueprint and dialed it up even further.
However, if you want that specific Upper West Side family vibe, it’s harder to find. The neighborhood has become a bit more corporate, a bit more subdued.
What You Should Do Instead
If you’re mourning the loss of the "Big Red" experience, here is how to replicate the spirit of a night at Ruby Foos in modern Manhattan:
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- Visit Nom Wah Tea Parlor: For the dim sum fix, go to the source in Chinatown. It has the history that Ruby Foos was trying to evoke, but with much better dumplings.
- Head to the Second Floor of any Hudson Yards Spot: If you miss the "grand staircase" and the views of the city bustle, the verticality of Hudson Yards dining offers a similar sense of scale.
- Check out the Rockwell Group’s Current Projects: If it was the design you loved, look up David Rockwell’s current restaurant designs like Nobu Downtown or The Wayfarer. You’ll see the same theatrical DNA.
The era of Ruby Foos New York City might be over, but it serves as a reminder that restaurants are more than just places to eat. They are bookmarks in our lives. They mark the graduation dinners, the first dates in the city, and the nights when we just wanted to feel like New York was as big and bright as the movies promised.
The 1626 Broadway location is now gone, and the 2182 Broadway spot is a memory, but the "Great Wall of Chocolate" lives on in the cholesterol levels and fond memories of an entire generation of New Yorkers. If you're looking for that kind of scale today, you'll have to brave the tourists at the newer Midtown giants, but it's worth it just to feel that specific brand of Manhattan electricity one more time.
Move forward by exploring the smaller, independent dim sum spots in Queens or the high-design temples of meatpacking—the city has traded its giant Buddhas for sleek marble, but the hunger for a "big night out" hasn't changed a bit.