Get in, we’re going to the banya
I spent Presidents’ Day dining with a total stranger. We split chicken tabaka, a Georgian dish, made by roasting a butterflied chicken under the weight of a brick, and clinked frosty steins of Obolon, a robust Ukrainian lager. The meal turned us into fast friends, but so did the setting: We were huddled around a table at Mermaid Spa, a bathhouse in Sea Gate, Brooklyn, shivering like wet dogs in our swimsuits. I’m a sucker for a shvitz: the hotter, the better. And while gleaming new bathhouses have popped up all over town, selling sugar scrubs and seaweed wraps, I’m drawn to the older set of Russian and Turkish baths, where New Yorkers have thawed out for generations. Won’t you join us? The water’s fine, and the dining is even better. This week we’re headed to the banya; hold onto your wool cap.
No shirt. No shoes. No one cares.Once upon a time, the East Village of Manhattan was dotted with Eastern European-style baths: the result of an ancient city effort to give New Yorkers a place to wash up before most homes had hot water. By 1985, most of the baths that remained were closed by state authorities to curb the spread of AIDS, since many bathhouses doubled as gathering places for gay men. The vaguely steampunk Russian & Turkish Baths (admission: $60) is one of the few 19th century saunas left. Opened in 1892, the baths still look like the hull of a ship that’s sprung a leak. The staff shouts in Russian. Regulars let their guts hang out. Exhausted but relaxed patrons linger outside the crammed Turkish steam rooms, waiting for a turn. Far be it from me to deprive anyone of a Turkish bath, so hazy with eucalyptus steam you could cut it with a knife. But I much prefer the punishing heat of the Russian sauna, redolent with baked wood. Visitors dump buckets of water over their heads to cool off periodically — every seat is the splash zone — or hire a man with an athletic build to thrash them repeatedly with venik, bundled branches that release essential oils with every thwack. The cafeteria — upstairs, by the entrance — is ideal after a few turns in the sauna. Around mealtimes, the room spills over with diners in bathrobes and swim suits, their tables crowded with sliced herring, potato varenyky and tankards of Ukrainian beer. There are two non-negotiables: Anna’s borscht, named for the kitchen’s original chef, Anna Yakubovich, who plied each bowl with beet and cabbage, and a tall cup of cranberry kompot. Pretty soon you’ll be itching for another steam. 268 East 10th Street (First Avenue), East Village
Sweat like a pig — and eat like one, tooThe cafeteria at Wall Street Bath & Spa 88 (admission: $60) in the Financial district is more expansive, spread out over two floors with a cafe, a bar and an upstairs restaurant that always smells a bit like a wet cigarette, from the cigar room nearby. The first time I visited I knew I was in the right place when I saw two men in street clothes hunched over a table of garlicky potatoes, fried prawns with chili sauce and shots of vodka infused with horseradish and beet. They had popped in for lunch with no plans to use the baths. Here, there’s no need to wait 30 minutes after eating. Pass through the door marked “shvitz” into the standard sauna with wooden, stadium-style seating — or brave the Russian banya, where the temperatures can top 200 degrees. To circulate the steam, veteran shvitzers whirl a towel overhead, like a T-shirt at a Bar Mitzvah. Once the heat can barely sustain human life, I make my exit and head for the cold plunge. Last time I visited, I spotted the controversial sauna evangelist and podcast neurologist Andrew Huberman practicing what he preaches. 88 Fulton Street (Gold Street), Financial district
A different kind of poolside eatingBath Club of N.Y. (admission: $70 on weekdays, $80 on weekends and holidays) hasn’t been touched by the Bathhouse crowd. The Sheepshead Bay location, really accessible only by the Q train, is for sauna super users: Slavic people of all ages who lounge around the central pool in plastic chairs — the dining room — to eat cold mackerel, pickled green tomatoes and fried shrimp served in puddles of oil and garlic. (Savor every breath-ruining bite.) Finishing with a mug of kvass, a fermented, root beer-like beverage, is never a bad move. The compact facilities are limited to a few unisex hot rooms, and cold showers that strike like a lightning bolt from God. Still, it’s easy to pass several hours wandering between the saunas and your table, plying yourself with hot tea as needed. My only gripe: The hottest room, you guessed it, a Russian sauna, is at the back of the men’s locker room, and inaccessible to women. 1196 Gravesend Neck Road (Homecrest Avenue), Sheepshead Bay Read past editions of the newsletter here. If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider recommending it to others. They can sign up here. Have New York City restaurant questions? Send us a note here. Follow NYT Food on TikTok and NYT Cooking on Instagram, Facebook, YouTube and Pinterest.
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