TikTok is many things: a place for slime videos, a free therapy session, the leading source of information in America right now, and, for some, the ultimate restaurant resource. With a properly tuned algorithm, TikTok can become a never-ending scroll of rhythmic recommendations from critics of varying reliability, many of whom have been paid by restaurants for their P.R.-approved opinions.
How trustworthy are their suggestions, really? And what can a diner expect from these spots, when videos have promised them perfect vibes, hot singles and even religious enlightenment? To find out, I spent hours on TikTok, going down a digital rabbit hole of restaurant videos, then dined for a week at the whim of my For You Page.
‘New York’s hottest new restaurant’
Meduza Mediterrania
Thistle Swann and Jacob Cummings, who met on Hinge, put their faith in the internet once more to choose their anniversary dinner locale.
“I just looked up ‘fancy restaurants’ on TikTok,” Mr. Cummings said. “I don’t know anything about fancy culture, but I could tell by looking at the place that it was dummy fancy.”
That’s how the couple, both 25, found themselves below a huge fake tree sprouting from the middle of the dining room at Meduza Mediterrania, a clubstaurant in the meatpacking district with a strict dress code (no sweatpants, shorts or jerseys) and a pricey raw bar.
Meduza’s website calls it “a dining experience that takes you on a journey to a world of sunlit coasts, sparkling waters and vibrant culture.” I didn’t find any geographic marvels, but I was surprised to find the food (shiso tzatziki, lamb chops with chimichurri, wagyu kafta) terrific.
The couple agreed, though admittedly, they never go out for nice dinners — Mr. Cummings is unemployed, and Ms. Swann teaches ceramics and caters. “But,” Mr. Cummings said at the end of the meal, “I’m gonna be honest, it was not $800 delicious.”
TikTok did mislead me in one way: A few videos called it a perfect date night spot, but it’s nearly impossible to flirt over the echoing, continuous beat of the lyric-less tracks spun by a bleach-blonde DJ. On top of that, a violinist (wearing, incidentally, a TikTok viral dress) traipsed through the room, stopping at tables of diners with their phones out, and grinning as she performed to camera. Maybe not date night material, but from a place I hadn’t heard of beyond TikTok, a pleasant surprise.
‘Literally a religious experience’
Quality Bistro
“Your life will be forever changed,” said Rebecca Schneider, who posts as @boujeebitesonly, about a (comped) dinner at Quality Bistro — specifically, the tableside butter service.
Here’s how the profound event begins: A server carts over a bucket with a half-foot mound of butter emerging from it. With a wooden spatula, they scoop out a baseball-size blob of butter, smear it onto a marble plate and top it with pimente d’espelette, minced shallots and salt. For $38, the butter plate comes with oiled toast, radishes and a bouquet of their leaves, cornichons, two dips, a cold leek dish and slices of ham folded like linen napkins.
The restaurant group Quality Branded had success with an influencer marketing campaign at Bad Roman in Columbus Circle, and the approach seems to be working at Quality Bistro, too. On a recent Friday night, a woman from Kansas City was celebrating her 30th birthday at the restaurant, after seeing it in a video.
I wouldn’t say I found God at Quality Bistro, but more disappointingly, I didn’t find a husband. After seeing a number of videos mention the hunky clientele — Ariana Nathani (@ariana.nathani) said “everybody here was a finance daddy,” and Tiff Baira (@tiffbaira) called it “the best NYC restaurant to meet eligible bachelors” — I found only groups of millennial women drinking espresso martinis and families celebrating birthdays, sparklers in their desserts.
‘Grab all your friends and sprint’
ThisBowl
Alternatively, power-walk alone to ThisBowl, an Australian fast-casual concept in NoHo. Spend $19 on a cardboard bowl of shredded cabbage and poached chicken with miso dressing that actually may surprise and delight you.
It’s worth waiting in the line, which often covers half of Bleecker Street, but moves quickly — after all, you’d be waiting in line for lunch anywhere else in the neighborhood and because you may, like me, get lucky and see an influencer in the wild. I waited for my bowl next to Ella Kahan, a very sweet woman who posts as @chewyorkcity, while she filmed a spread of (comped) salads.
‘New York’s most viral sandwich’
Datz Deli
That’s how Jon Barr, using the handle @herebebarr, described the macpatty at Datz Deli with locations in Hollis, Queens, and the Lower East Side. It’s a beef patty sliced open and stuffed with macaroni and cheese, topped with oxtail, reassembled and wedged between two slices of coco bread.
Given the amount of videos with over a million views and comments like “booking my flight,” and “first stop on my next NY trip,” I’d steeled myself for a long line. But I was met with crickets, the only customer in the shop. The thing is, I’d have waited in one thousand lines for that sandwich — a no-notes excellent treat.
‘The craziest dinner deal I have ever come across in New York’
Cask Bar + Kitchen
That’s Genevieve Tankosich’s claim in a video with nearly a million views, an installment of her series “A Broke Girl’s Guide to Partying Like You’re Rich in NYC.”
The deal in question: $60 for an appetizer, entree and dessert with unlimited wine at Cask Bar + Kitchen in Murray Hill, with a two-hour time limit. Ms. Tankosich, who posts under the handle @genevieve.tankosich, is one of the many influencers — a number of them paid by Cask — to post about the dinner special, which they call “Bubbles + Beats.”
The beats on a recent Friday night surprised me with their mid-aughts chillness: I heard Coldplay’s “Yellow” and “1234” by Feist over tepid fried cauliflower bites; burrata with, strangely, tomato sauce, honey and figs; and a (delightful!) hanger steak.
Is this the best deal in New York? It may not be the best deal in Murray Hill. “There’s a place literally around the corner that does bottomless cocktails and dinner for $50,” said Lila Walter, 23, who was having drinks at Cask with friends. “And it’s cocktails, not wine, so we would rather do that.”
On the upside, as I filmed the mini espresso martinis that came with dessert, a server asked me if I was an influencer.
‘This is what $103 of Swedish candy looks like’
BonBon
Want millions of views on a video? Go to BonBon, wait in line to fill up a Pepto-pink sack of Swedish gummies and head home to film a taste test. I went to the shop’s Lower East Side location to watch the manifestation of thousands of those videos.
The appeal is apparent: The bright buckets of candy range from delightfully sour and stretchy to thrillingly salty and anise-y, a world of flavors and textures.
“I scrolled through TikTok and saw everyone going here,” said Jiya Dhillion, 15, whose parents drove her in from Long Island to try the candy. Her plan, as she walked out with an enormous bag filled with the flavors she’d seen online, was to post a Snapchat story trying the candies for her friends. “For her, it’s kind of a landmark,” her father, Raj, said. “All her schoolmates are talking about it.”
Not long after, an eighth-grade class on a school trip from Fort Myers, Fla., flooded the store. After they cleared, one shopper who hadn’t discovered BonBon on her For You Page walked in: a Swedish 27-year-old named Sofie Waidringer, who has been coming to the shop for years, since it opened.
She mostly finds the frenzy hilarious, but with an apparent downside: “Before, I could go here, and there was never a line.”
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