New York doesn’t hand out credibility lightly. It never has. The city has seen too many openings, too many grand promises, too many “next big things” that quietly disappear before the paint has properly dried.
So when a 40-seat restaurant on Forsyth Street begins to attract attention without shouting for it, you tend to take notice.
Comal, which opened in June 2025 on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, is doing precisely that, earning its reputation the old-fashioned way. One service at a time. One plate at a time. No fuss, no theatre, just cooking that knows what it’s about.
And in a city that thrives on noise, that restraint is almost radical.
At the centre of it is Gaz Herbert, a chef whose story reads less like a straight line and more like a well-travelled map. Born in Mexico City, raised across Colombia, England and Russia, he brings with him a lived understanding of food that can’t be taught in any kitchen, no matter how decorated.
That matters. Because Comal doesn’t feel like an idea assembled in a boardroom. It feels like a place built from memory, layered, personal, and quietly confident.
The name itself says plenty. A “comal” is the flat griddle found across Central and South America, a workhorse of the kitchen and, more importantly, a gathering point. It’s where things happen. Where food is shared, not staged.
That philosophy runs straight through the restaurant.
Herbert’s background is serious without being showy. Time at London’s The River Café taught him discipline and respect for produce, two things that never go out of fashion. Later, at Ikoyi under Jeremy Chan, he refined a style that drew globally without confusion or overwork.
There’s a difference between influence and imitation. Herbert understands it.
Stints in New York and California followed Casa Cruz and Jupiter, among them, each adding another layer, another perspective. But Comal is where it all lands. His first solo venture, and, importantly, one that feels like it arrived at the right time rather than too early.
Working alongside him is Head Chef Scott McKay, and here’s where things get interesting.
McKay comes from Calgary, which might not immediately scream “modern Mexican cooking,” but that’s precisely the point. His grounding in kitchens like The Ox, Angela, and Model Milk under Eric Hendry instilled a respect for seasonality that translates seamlessly across cuisines.
Then came Europe. Amass, where sustainability isn’t a buzzword but a discipline. And Fäviken Magasinet under Magnus Nilsson, where “local” is taken to its logical extreme.
You don’t leave kitchens like that unchanged.
McKay met Herbert in London at Smoking Goat, a place known for bold, unapologetic flavour. That shared appetite for intensity, for pushing without overcomplicating, is evident in every corner of Comal’s menu.
After a pandemic-induced detour back to Canada, McKay rejoined Herbert as Comal began to take shape, bringing not just experience but also a certain clarity of purpose. You sense it in the food. There’s conviction there.
The menu itself walks a careful line and does so rather well.
Yes, it’s inspired by Mexico. But it doesn’t lean on clichés or play to expectation. Instead, it draws from a broader canvas, North America, Europe, and even touches of East Asia, without losing its centre of gravity.
A curated pantry sits at the heart of it all. Spices sourced from Alphabet City’s small, colourful shops sit alongside Mexican imports tomatillos, guavas, chiltepin, and even the occasional cricket. It’s thoughtful, not theatrical.
And then there’s the produce.
This is where Comal quietly separates itself from the pack. Ingredients are sourced daily from small farms across the Northeast, with menus shifting accordingly. No grand declarations, no seasonal manifestos, just an understanding that if the produce is right, the rest follows.
It’s a principle as old as cooking itself. And still, surprisingly, not universally applied.
The dining room reflects much the same thinking. Designed by Elena Martinoni with Mexico City’s La Metropolitana carpenters, it avoids the trap of trying too hard. Tornillo wood gives warmth, handwoven seating adds texture, and rotating works by Mexican artists keep things alive without overwhelming the space.
It feels considered. Human, even.
With just 40 seats, including a chef’s table that wraps around the kitchen, there’s nowhere to hide and no need to. You’re part of it, whether you like it or not. Fortunately, most do.
What Herbert and McKay have created here isn’t revolutionary in the loud, attention-seeking sense. It’s something far more valuable. It’s a restaurant that understands itself.
In a city that often confuses innovation with noise, Comal offers a quieter reminder: good cooking, done properly, still counts for something.
And in New York, that’s about as strong a statement as you can make.
by Alison Jenkins – (c) 2026.
Read Time: 5 minutes.
About the Author.
Alison Jenkins has lived most of her working life in the slipstream of aviation, where timetables matter, and people matter more. In airline sales, she built a reputation the old-fashioned way: by knowing her clients, her routes, and never missing the human detail.
Quick with a smile, quicker with a solution, she made deals with warmth and kept her edge intact.
Trade shows, FAMILS, airport lounges and hotel lobbies became her second address. And somewhere along the way, notebook in hand, she began writing the journeys rather than selling them. Her reports grew lively, observant, full of the small truths only travellers notice.
That was the moment it dawned on her: she wasn’t simply travelling. She belonged in its stories.
