I went to NYC's most exclusive restaurant with the 'Desperate Diner'—here's everything we ate
I love an exclusive restaurant in New York City as much as the next person. But I’m not, at my core, a line person. If I see a crowd snaking down the block, my instinct is usually this is New York—I can eat somewhere else in five minutes.
Still, it’s hard to ignore the rumblings around The Corner Store, a buzzy, upscale American restaurant in SoHo, opened by Catch Hospitality Group in late 2024.
Like so many of the city’s hottest tables right now, getting in has become its own competitive sport. I recently reported on the reservation wars for the New York Post, talking to diners battling bots, apps, third-party fees, and the general psychic warfare of trying to eat at a restaurant that doesn’t even seem to want you there.
My friend Amanda, a deeply committed food person, was quoted in the piece under the apt label “Desperate Diner,” to which she’s since leaned all the way in, launching an Instagram account under that name.
DoorDash—which handles reservations for The Corner Store—reached out and offered us the chance to dine at the elusive restaurant ourselves. Dearest readers, I didn’t hesitate. To be totally honest, I barely even knew what was on the menu. I was just thrilled to be there.
That alone says a lot about what The Corner Store has become.
How To Get A Reservation At The Corner Store
According to DoorDash, it’s one of the most popular restaurants on DoorDash Reservations and currently has the highest number of Notify alerts on the platform.
Reservations drop daily and are usually fully booked within five minutes, but if you want better odds, DoorDash suggests signing up for DashPass, which offers access to exclusive timeslots at The Corner Store and its sister spots, Or’esh and The Eighty Six.
The restaurant itself is tiny by design, with just 60 dining room seats and a 13-seat bar near the entrance, some of which are reserved for walk-ins. Reservations are released two weeks in advance, tables are capped at four people, and the restaurant explicitly warns on its website against bots, unauthorized transfers, and back-to-back bookings. In other words, they know exactly what kind of circus this has become.
Amanda and I had a 9:15 p.m. reservation on a Friday, which is a time when I’m usually horizontal in gym shorts, gearing up for my 92nd rewatch of The Great British Bake Off. Instead, I was dressed, upright, and heading into one of the hardest reservations in Manhattan.
And honestly? It kind of ruled from the moment we walked in.
Cozy restaurant interior featuring plush seating and vintage decor.
The room is dark in that expensive-looking way that makes everyone feel a little hotter and richer than they probably are. You enter past the bar—already a flex, knowing how many people would happily settle for one of those 13 stools—and get ushered farther into the dining room. Our booth curved around instead of putting us awkwardly across from each other, like we were settling in to gossip and gorge with a full view of the restaurant.
What To Order At The Corner Store
We ordered a lot, and we ordered fast. Our waiter assured us he’d pace it all out properly, and even though it felt like we basically pointed at half the menu at once, the meal came out in a way that still felt like it was destined to.
Serving tray with a cocktail, an ice bowl, and a silver cup.
The Corner Store has an extensive martini list, and we were nudged toward the Sour Cream and Onion Martini, made with cream-washed Condesa, gin, vermouth, dill, and spring onion, with sour cream and onion chips on the side. It skewed a little sweet for me, so I later switched to a drier gin martini with blue cheese olives, but as an opener, it was genuinely fun—and the kind of thing you order more because you’re literally never getting something like it anywhere else.
Then we started eating, and that’s when things got serious.
We kicked off with the Bluefin Tuna Tartare, which came with crushed avocado, shallot, and basil oil. It was exactly the kind of starter you want when you know you’re about to behave irresponsibly with the rest of the menu. Alongside it, we got two Lobster Caviar Rolls, each with its own little hit of buttery, creamy, rich luxury. They somehow managed to feel both dainty and indulgent.
Gourmet lobster rolls served with caviar on a gold plate.
Then came the Five Cheese Pizza Rolls, certainly goofy on paper—Totino’s for adults, basically—but in practice they’re just so much better than they need to be. Stuffed with ricotta, raclette, Parmesan, taleggio, mozzarella, pepperoni, ’nduja, jalapeño, ranch, and Calabrian honey, they’re salty, gooey, spicy, sweet (read: just absurd) in the best way.
We, notably, did not get a photo because the camera did not eat first and frankly never stood a chance.
We also split the Corner Store Caesar, which, if you think you’ve had every possible reinvention of a Caesar salad by now, I beg to differ. It comes topped with cream cheese croquettes and everything bagel croutons, the croquettes bursting open in the most obscene, tangy cream-cheese way.
Dinner spread featuring fried chicken, salad, and sweet potato fries.
For mains, Amanda and I decided not to go full steakhouse and skipped the $80 bone-in New York strip, but we did split the Wagyu French Dip, made with 72-hour Westholme Australian ribeye, au jus, and horseradish. One bite and I fully understood why French Dips have endured for this long. We also had to order the fries with the Works of sauces—secret sauce, avocado ranch, and horseradish aioli—which felt like the obvious move alongside the French Dip.
Then, because the dining gods were smiling on us, the kitchen sent out the limited-edition Chicken Fingers, of which only 10 orders are offered nightly. They were crisp, juicy, and surefire proof that even the most impossible-to-book restaurants still know the power of really good chicken fingers.
Dessert platter featuring a layered dessert, a pastry, and a dessert topped with fluffy cream.
By the time dessert rolled around, I wanted everything. I have an aggressive sweet tooth and very little dignity, so this isn’t unusual for me. We landed on the Apple Hand Pies, which felt like the most glamorous, grown-up cousin to a McDonald’s apple pie: tart Granny Smith filling, shortbread crust, spiced dulce de leche, and a vanilla bean Dixie cup on the side. They were sublime, naturally.
And then our waiter told us it would basically be a sin not to order the Samoa Sundae.
He was correct.
Made with coconut soft serve, brown butter caramel, Valrhona chocolate fudge, salted shortbread crumble, and toasted coconut, it was probably one of the best things I have put in my mouth in a long time.
When someone later asked what my favorite thing of the night was, picking one dish was a major Sophie’s Choice situation. That, more than anything, is what surprised me.
I went in ready to enjoy the thrill of finally getting into a place that so many people are fighting over, then move on with my life. Instead, I walked out having eaten, without exaggeration, one of the top 10 meals of my life in the last decade.
New York is constantly manufacturing the next place people will wait in line for and obsess over, and sometimes you really don’t need to insert yourself into that machine. Other times, the thing everyone is making a fuss over actually is that good.
The Corner Store, annoyingly enough, is one of those places.
