I have had two standout dinners at Balthazar, the storied downtown New York City brasserie. The first, a few years ago, was with my father. We had oysters, steak, and Champagne. Our table was excellent. I don’t recall us having a reservation, either; winning the lottery can look like many things. The second time was with the man I hope to die beside, though undoubtedly he will go long before I do. My people are from Korea, and we outlive everyone. Salad and duck confit for me. Onion tart and burger for him. We shared the sticky toffee pudding for dessert, which allegedly arrived late. (Someone apologized for the wait, and it was nixed from the bill.) We didn’t notice because I was sipping an amaro, the man I’ll watch die had come sit beside me on the banquette, and we were staring up at the restaurant’s enormous pressed-tin ceiling — quiltlike, lustrous as eggshell. You don’t notice a dawdling dessert on nights like these.

In the back of the restaurant, working on his laptop, sat founder and restaurateur Keith McNally, the glow of his screen a white-blue dot in the space’s famously warm lighting. For whoever has not been to Balthazar — or any of McNally’s restaurants (Minetta Tavern, Pastis, Morandi, to name the current; The Odeon, Café Luxembourg, Nell’s, Lucky Strike, Pravda, Schiller’s Liquor Bar, Augustine, Pulino’s and its second act as Cherche Midi, to name the past) — the lighting is akin to sitting inside of a snowglobe while thick curtains of honey drip down the sides. “There’s no such thing as an ugly person,” McNally once posted on his notoriously candid Instagram, “only bad lighting.”

McNally’s Instagram reads like a diary. Self-deprecating, irreverent, and sometimes poignant, his captions pull back the curtain on the inner workings of New York hospitality and his personal life in equal measure. After McNally’s stroke in 2016, which critically impaired his speech, the platform became a way for him to reclaim his voice. Alongside home-interior photos, a 2025 post reads: “This was the beautiful house I owned in Notting Hill, London, from 2011 to 2018, before my stroke, suicide attempt, and divorce. Even though I paid 6 million pounds for the house (and then spent another 3 million renovating it), I never ‘owned’ this gorgeous house. Ultimately, nobody ‘owns’ anything. Everything in life is Leased. Even our own bodies.”

In 2025, McNally’s words were given a more formal platform. He released the memoir I Regret Almost Everything, now a New York Times bestseller. In one passage, he writes, “Correspondence has always been a major part of my life, but since my stroke it’s become crucial, because writing is the only time I feel I’m not being pre-judged on appearance. Consequently, it’s the only time I feel normal.” So, one morning, I texted McNally.

Sophie Yun Mancini: Good morning, Keith. It’s Sophie Mancini, the journalist from Dossier magazine. Is now still an ok time for you to chat?

Keith McNally: Yes.

SYM: Wonderful. What have you been up to this morning?

KM: I wake at 6 every morning, make an espresso and try to devise ways of canceling my days’ without causing offense. And then I begin writing. Since early July I’ve been revising and rewriting my memoir, I Regret Almost Everything, for the paperback.

SYM: I just finished your memoir. It’s remarkable.

KM: my days’ meetings is what I meant to write.

SYM: i understand. i try and cancel my meetings as well.

(without causing offense, as well)

KM: I really wanted to cancel this meeting.

SYM: because you’re busy? tired?

or just couldn’t be fucked to text a stranger? all are understandable.

KM: I’m always behind with things. Ideally I would stay home all day and think about what I should be writing.

I’m a colossal procrastinator.

SYM: where do you think that comes from?

KM: Let me delay answering that until I’ve had a second coffee.

SYM: [haha emoji reaction]

There’s a quote in your book I really want to ask you about this: “Charm played a more important role than competence in America.”

Do you still believe this?

KM: Unfortunately, yes.

SYM: Who is the most charming person you know?

KM: He just died: Tom Stoppard who was a friend of mine. Tom was exceptional. He possessed charm, grace, wit and enormous ability.

What’s your favorite Stoppard play?

SYM: I could google something and lie, but to be completely honest, I’ve never experienced a Stoppard play.

Does that make you think less of the very little you know of me?

KM: Yes.

No, of course not!

Do you go to the theater much?

SYM: I don’t, embarrassingly. Even though I grew up in New York, which has so much access to them. Sometimes I feel like the more access one has, the less they take advantage.

I’ve never been to the Statue of Liberty. Which of course is not a play, but just to illustrate the point of not embracing what’s right in front of you. I read a lot of Shakespeare growing up though. Yet have only seen one Shakespeare play in real life.

KM: Me neither. In fact, I’ve never met anyone who’s actually been to the Statue of Liberty.

Which one Shakespeare play have you seen?

SYM: Hamlet, at The Globe, in London. It was haunting. All lit by candles, no electric light

KM: Who played Hamlet?

SYM: I can’t remember. It was a while ago. An ex boyfriend surprised me with tickets. It was very thoughtful. The relationship did not last but my impression of the night stayed with me as so very magical.

KM: Was it in the indoor theater attached to the Globe, the Sam Wanamaker theater?

SYM: Hm. I remember it feeling semi outdoors actually. Is that possible? My memory is so unreliable when it comes to facts and plot. I can always remember how I felt but never what actually happened.

KM: Between 18 and 40 years of age I saw about 35 Shakespeare productions without understanding a fucking word.

SYM: Did that make you enjoy them less?

KM: I didn’t enjoy them at all. I couldn’t wait for each one to end. I’d be watching Measure For Measure and be thinking about what main course I should order in the restaurant I planned to go afterwards.

I was watching great productions of Shakespeare because I’d read they were ‘great’ productions not because I found them great. I was completely faking it. Then, at 42 or 43 I got fed up faking it and sat down and ‘studied’ about 17 Shakespeare plays over the course of 3 years. Slowly, line by line until I understood the language.

SYM: This reminds me of a moment in your memoir when you read Don Quixote, pretending to like it… Is there anything you’ve pretended to like for so long, you’re now unsure what your actual feelings are? Or, your feelings unconsciously changed through the act?

Have you ever tricked yourself into believing something?

KM: All of the above. I also think it’s possible to hold two opposing views on something at the same time.

I know I do.

SYM: What’s an example of this paradox^ you’ve felt recently? An opposing view you hold within yourself currently?

KM: The play Waiting For Godot. On the one hand I think a revolutionary play, on the other hand I think it’s a tiresome play that has nothing to say.

There are certain things - plays books, people - we’ve been conditioned to think of as “Untouchable”. And the playwright Beckett is one of them.

SYM: Conversely, who do you think hasn’t received enough credit for their work? Who should be more “untouchable” in your opinion? Who or what?

KM: No one should be beyond criticism. I believe this more every day.

SYM: This reminds me of a line in your book: “Never trust certainty.” What is the most recent thing you’ve changed your mind about? Or have been compellingly challenged on?

KM: Mamdani. When I began reading about him 9 months ago, I was quite skeptical. But last June I totally changed my mind.

I now think Mamdani’s terrific.

SYM: Because of one specific pivotal moment or a series of behaviors you observed?

KM: I don’t really believe in “pivotal” moments. Meaningful change occurs imperceptibly most of the time.

‘Eureka’ moments are rare, and mostly said for effect.

By the way, try to see the play Oedipus on Broadway. It’s terrific.

I must go now.

SYM: I will. I’m actually in London currently, but I’ll be sure to check it out when I return.

KM: [heart emoji reaction]

SYM: Thank you for your time and thoughts, Keith.

KM: [heart emoji reaction]

Thank you.

All original chat grammar and punctuation has been maintained to preserve the nature of the conversation.