It’s that time of year again. Foodstradamus is ready to predict what will be going into your mouths in 2026 (get your minds out of the gutter). I’m so good at predicting the future that if Maduro had called me a week ago, I would have said, “Stay at a hotel this week, Nic.” But alas, he never called. Don’t make the same mistake. If you don’t believe me, remember last year when I told you, you’d be inundated with omakase-everything.
When Certain Cuisines Stop Being “Fun” and Start Demanding Seriousness
For years, Indian and Korean food were allowed to be wildly popular, just not formal. They were casual, convivial, “great value,” endlessly praised, right up until linen tablecloths entered the conversation.
That ceiling isn’t just cracking. The whole goddamn roof needs to be replaced.
The Korean tasting-menu mecca Jungsik in New York City just earned three Michelin stars, the first for any Korean restaurant outside of Korea. And places like Semma and Bungalow are showing us that the best Indian food can go toe-to-toe with anything the old guard has to offer.
The next wave isn’t fusion or dilution. It’s chefs insisting their cuisines deserve the same reverence long reserved for French, Italian, and Japanese food.
And ideally, this is just the beginning.
My prediction is that upscale Indian and Korean cuisine is just the canary in the coal mine. Cultures that have never been invited into the three-star conversation are going to force Mr. Michelin to sign up for Rosetta Stone. Kato takes Taiwanese food to new heights. Anajak Thai does the same for Thai. Ha’s Snack Bar does it for Vietnamese. But right now, these are still one-offs.
That’s about to change.
Personally, I’m hoping this moment arrives for Persian food. We’re seeing whispers of it at Eyval, but it still leans heavily toward traditional home cooking. I want saffron foams. Beef tartare with turmeric. Fenugreek ice cream. I’m clearly not the guy to do it. I just hope that person is out there, and that by 2027 we’re raving about a Tehran tasting menu somewhere.
The food was always worthy. The room is finally catching up.
The Adult Kids’ Menu Takes Over
This isn’t about kids eating better. It’s about adults eating like kids, without shame.
Let’s face it: it’s been a shitshow of a year. The stress of everyday life can be unbearable, and sometimes you just want to go to dinner and eat something basic and juvenile that doesn’t need a thesaurus to decode.
Upscale restaurants are increasingly serving dishes that look suspiciously like kids’ menu classics: mini hot dogs, chicken tenders, grilled cheese, fries with a side of house-made ranch.
The difference isn’t disguise. It’s confidence. Better ingredients. Tighter execution. Zero irony.
Polo Bar quietly kicked this off, serving pigs in a blanket in one of the most stunning dining rooms in the city. Corner Store ran with it. They literally have pizza rolls on the menu, for God’s sake, and I’m fully here for it. I recently had a mini hot dog covered in caviar at The Modern and felt like a fat-boy king, which is honestly exactly what I strive for.
This isn’t regression. It’s status. You don’t order chicken tenders at a fancy restaurant unless no one at the table can question your taste. Nostalgia has officially outranked novelty.
Carcass Dining Becomes the New Dinner Theater
We’re done hiding the animal.
I went to a sushi restaurant in Santa Monica called Saijo and walked in absolutely shocked. There was a RAW TUNA CARCASS SITTING ON THE BAR. Not the whole fish, the five-foot-long spine and ribs, picked at like something vultures had gotten to.
Little did I know, we were about to become those vultures.
The chef scraped bits of fatty tuna still clinging to the bones and placed them directly on nigiri. Did it taste better than really good tuna from a normal sushi bar? Not really. But was it a million times cooler? Absolutely.
This kind of thing is popping up more and more, and it reflects something larger: Americans are shedding their fear of looking directly at the animal they’re eating.
Restaurants are leaning into spectacle that feels ancient, visceral, and just educational enough to justify the drama. Sustainability helps the pitch, but the real appeal is honesty, watching something whole become dinner in front of you.
Carcass dining isn’t about shock. It’s about connection. And in an era that feels overly curated, that rawness reads as punk rock.
Read more about the trend here.
Hazelnut Replaces Pistachio
Pistachio had a long, glossy run: green, sexy, photogenic, delicious. It’s the supermodel of nut desserts. But eventually, the supermodel gets boring and you crave nostalgia. Safety. The girl you went to college with who snorted when she laughed.
Hazelnut was the girl all along.
Warm. Comforting. Delicious without trying too hard. Pistachio might have a perfectly curated Instagram page. Hazelnut doesn’t even have social media.
Sorry. I was burned by an Instagram model.
Let’s hope it’s not too late, and hazelnut takes us back.
The Fat Burger Returns (Smash Loses Its Monopoly)
Smash burgers didn’t fail. They succeeded too completely.
Once revelatory, they’re now standardized: crispy, thin, predictable. Texture without surprise.
But they’re violent, smashed with vengeance on a flattop as if the patty did something wrong, sizzling any remaining moisture straight into the ether. It’s all a bit much.
Diners are drifting back toward something richer and more human: the fat burger.
Thick patties. Thoughtful beef blends. Real juice. A willingness to drip. Smash burgers won’t disappear. They’ll become the snack. The fat burger is reclaiming its place as the thing you order when you actually want dinner, not just hype you’re chasing because some 15-year-old posted about it on TikTok.
Meringue Is Coming (I’m Not Happy About It Either)
I’m not exactly on board with this next trend, but I’ve reached the acceptance phase. It’s like seeing an avalanche heading straight toward you and realizing that pretending it’s not happening won’t help. Ironically, this 2026 food trend kind of looks like an avalanche.
I’m talking about meringue.
To me, meringue tastes like egg-white-flavored cardboard. To others, it’s heaven. And look, I get it. Especially when it’s folded into ice cream, torched on cakes, or shattered over desserts for texture. It adds crunch. It adds drama. It photographs beautifully.
Meringue is basically the sweet version of tempura flakes in a sushi roll. On its own, kind of pointless. In context? Annoyingly effective.
What really hurts is that meringue is the photo negative of zabayon, the rich, yolk-based custard I’m absolutely obsessed with. Light versus decadent. Air versus silk. The wrong egg won.
And while zabayon will have its moment, I’m calling that for 2027, 2026 belongs to whipped whites, torched peaks, and desserts that crunch louder than they taste.
So pack your avalanche beacon. Meringue is coming whether we like it or not.
The Big Picture
I’m optimistic about 2026, food-wise at least. We’re done trying to impress each other and ready to enjoy ourselves again.
Now excuse me while I play “Baby Come Back” and eat a hazelnut gelato thinking about Isabelle from college.
