Enter Through the Bagel Shop

By Gia Miller

Photography by Justin Negard

“We get to do whatever we want here, which is kind of amazing for a bagel shop,” says chef Gary King about himself and his wife, pastry chef Emily King, one Monday evening in late August. Earlier that afternoon, when the Kings’ restaurant, Ridgefield Bagels & Bakes, closed at 3 p.m., they locked the doors and began to transform the space. They reconfigured the tables and dimmed the lights, allowing their art-filled walls to become a focal point. They set out 10 hand-woven tablecloths, positioned their “fancy silverware” on cloth napkins, and added water and wine glasses. They laid a tablecloth across a long table, placed a few bottles of red wine on one side and white wine on the other, and arranged several slate platters in the middle, filling them with charcuterie and an assortment of small snacks. Then, they got to work in the kitchen, preparing for a high-end intimate meal at the most exclusive restaurant in the area—one where the focus is on conversation, connection and culinary surprises.

“I’ve worked in restaurants since 1999, and it’s always the same,” Gary continues. “We’re told, ‘Don’t do this,’ or ‘Don’t do that.’ When we started these dinners, we decided we were going to do whatever we wanted. So, if you like what we serve, that’s cool. If you don’t like it, then you get to enjoy some good food for one night, and you never have to come back. And we’re completely okay with that.”

Plated cuts of beef topped with chimichurri.

The Kings, who met while working at Cookshop in Manhattan, have worked at some of the top restaurants in the world. They purchased Ridgefield Bagels & Bakes nearly two years ago and began these Monday night dinners last July almost by accident. It was one part Gary’s rebellion (“There’s nobody telling me what to do.”), one part freedom (“I can do whatever I want, and I get to make the rules.”), and endless passion. “I wanted to do this because when you go out to dinner and order a few drinks, appetizers, main courses and desserts, suddenly your bill is $400,” Gary exclaims. “We wanted to offer four courses—including drinks, tax and tip—for $85 per person. So we decided to see if it would work. And lo and behold, it’s hotter than the sun.”

There are no rigid expectations, just fresh seasonal ingredients prepared with creativity and a lot of personality. And although Gary spent the majority of our meal jokingly telling guests if they’re not satisfied they don’t have to return, these dinners are all about the community.

Earning their stars

“This bread was made with a stone-ground red wheat flour and a local honey that Gary sourced. This is a yeast-risen bread, so it’s simple for me to make. First, I make the dough, then I shape it and form it inside of a little loaf pan. While it’s baking, I make a honey butter. Then, as it’s coming out of the oven, when it’s still really hot, I brush the honey butter on top so the bread absorbs it. This creates that shiny, sticky sheen and makes it extra tasty.” —Emily King

The Kings are not typical bagel shop owners. Gary has nearly 25 years of global culinary experience, training under acclaimed restaurateurs like Tom Colicchio and Steven Starr. He honed his skills in the bustling, high-pressure kitchens of Michelin-starred restaurants, including Masa in New York and Ristorante Reale in Italy. Emily built her 25-year pastry career in equally prestigious settings. She’s worked for renowned pastry chefs like Johnny Iuzzini at Jean-Georges in Manhattan (including the night the restaurant earned its third Michelin star) and Pierre Hermé in Paris before becoming the pastry chef at Cookshop and the former Veritas (both are/were also Michelin starred).

The couple eventually left Manhattan’s East Village for Maui, where they opened and ran Oceanside restaurant until it burned down in June 2016. They returned to New York and resumed their previous lives, working in fast-paced, high-end Manhattan restaurants. But after years of the relentless grind and two young boys at home, the couple, who moved to Pound Ridge in 2019, began looking for something different.

Settling in at a strip mall in the suburbs

“I hope you enjoy the sweetness of the lettuces, the purity of the beef, the saltiness of the cheese, a little bit of acid from the charred lime vinaigrette and the little tiny bit of shichimi spice that’s in there, too.” —Gary King

In 2023, Gary and Emily purchased Steve’s Bagels and renamed it Ridgefield Bagel & Bakes. The restaurant had changed hands several times since Steve opened it in 1993, but the name had remained. “When we bought the shop, they told us, ‘You can’t change the name,” says Gary. “But we had to change it,” Emily chimes in.

“It had a bad reputation,” she continues. “The last owners were very sweet, but they weren’t there enough, and they didn’t manage the place. Things were dirty; things were broken. The staff did whatever they wanted to do. It was sad to see.”

Preparing a cut of Wagyu beef.

Emily spent approximately six months perfecting a new bagel recipe that she fashioned off of beloved childhood memories. At seven years old, Emily’s father introduced her to the art of sourdough. “My dad had the same starter for over 30 years,” she says. “We made sourdough together out of organic grapes, flour and water. And every Sunday, we would have sourdough waffles from scratch.” Today, the Kings serve double-fermented sourdough bagels in all the traditional flavors, along with mini bagels, bialys and a varied assortment of specialty flavors. And on the weekends, they serve “bagel bombs” (bagels filled with ingredients like eggs, cheddar and bacon and then baked), which take an hour to make after the bagels have been boiled. And, of course, there’s a rotating list of desserts with several items—key lime pie, devil’s food cake and their “Double Double” (two layers of donuts and two layers of their chocolate chip cookie baked together and dipped in a chocolate shell)—remaining regular fixtures on the menu. They’re open for breakfast and lunch seven days a week, with live music on Saturday mornings.

“It’s crazy,” says Emily. “I never expected to own a bagel shop, and I never thought I’d love making bagels so much. But I love everything about it, from the gears grinding in the five-shelf deck oven to the sesame seeds popping while baking. And when the sun is rising and the bagels are baking, there’s a time when the sun hits them just right and they glow. It’s the most beautiful thing. And then, on Monday nights, we get to turn it into a cool restaurant that only a few people know about and are fortunate to experience with us; it’s just incredible.”

If you dream it, they will come

“I’m so happy you’re here, and I’m thoroughly enjoying every single one of you. I truly love that you’re here, and hopefully you’re enjoying this.” 

—Gary King

It’s been a little over one year since the King’s first Monday night dinner, and as word spread, their list of potential guests began to grow. “People love it because everything in Ridgefield is closed on Mondays,” Gary explains. “They’re just starting their week, and this dinner is an awesome de-stressor. You come into a bagel shop, and there are cool vibes, a communal feeling, and everybody just has a great time.”

But getting to that first dinner wasn’t as simple as telling a few loyal customers; it required planning and overcoming some hurdles. “When we applied for the beer and wine license, we received a lot of backlash from local residents,” Emily recalls. “They couldn’t understand why a bagel shop needed an alcohol permit. They didn’t know our intentions. But now they’re banging down the door, trying to get reservations for these dinners.”

The Kings’ format is simple: fresh seasonal ingredients prepared with creativity and a lot of personality. The multi-course menu reflects the couple’s culinary expertise, but the vibe is unpretentious and personal.

There is no posted menu, no preview online. Guests don’t know what they will eat until the plates are placed in front of them. And as each course arrives, so do the Kings, serving the meal and describing the course. At the Monday night dinner in August that we had the pleasure of attending, after Emily’s homemade honey wheat bread, we were served a salad of crisp, fresh lettuce topped with “absolutely incredible seared filet mignon” and shaved Parmigiano Reggiano, aged 24 months; there was a chili lime vinaigrette on the side.

“The lettuces are amazing by themselves,” Gary said. “The meat is from upstate New York, and I just seared it on the outside, hand-sliced it into little tiny portions, pounded the s@*! out of it, and put it on the plate. You’re literally eating what I think is heaven on a plate: light greens, amazing cheese, a little bit of chili, and absolutely amazing meats. And for all you salad lovers out there, it belongs. I kept it super simple because I want you to taste the cheese, I want you to taste the lettuce, and I want you to taste the beef. As for the vinaigrette, well, that’s your choice. I can eat all these ingredients raw and have a great time—by myself in a closet somewhere.”

That kind of raw, honest humor is part of the experience. It’s what keeps the guests laughing and entertained. The Kings move easily between the kitchen and the tables, serving courses, chatting with diners, and sharing stories about their lives, careers and family. For the Kings, it’s personal, and by the end of the evening, guests feel as though Gary and Emily are good friends who invited them to their home for dinner—except their “home” is a bagel shop and those “good friends” happen to be world-class chefs.

Building a community

“The scallops are absolutely amazing. These are dayboat scallops, and I met with my guy this morning. The day boats go out and bring them back the same day, so they’re not sitting in refrigeration or whatever horrible thing people do to seafood. I hope you enjoy everything. If you don’t, well, you know where the door is. It’s your choice.” —Gary King

The Monday night dinners have quietly become one of Ridgefield’s most distinctive dining experiences thanks to the exceptional food and the sense of community. With only twelve seats, conversations spark easily. “We’ve lived in Pound Ridge for about three years, but we haven’t been to an event here like this before,” said one of the diners at that late August dinner. “We used to do things like this when we lived in Brooklyn, so this kind of felt like a fun return to the inner circle of the food scene. But because the communities up here are smaller and more tight-knit, this dinner has a more intimate feeling. I don’t remember chatting with the people sitting next to us and having that sense of community before.”

“I hope you enjoy the sweetness of the lettuces, the purity of the beef, the saltiness of the cheese, a little bit of acid from the charred lime vinaigrette and the little tiny bit of shichimi spice that’s in there, too.” —Gary King

And that’s a main ingredient for the Kings. “Food should bring people together,” Emily says. “That’s always been true for us, whether we were cooking in New York City or Paris or now here, in a bagel shop in Connecticut.” And these days, the invite list that brings those people together is a regular part of the Kings’ lives. “Every day, people inquire about it when they come into the bagel shop,” Emily says. “They just come in and say, ‘Can we add our name?’”

You must reach out to Gary or Emily, preferably by visiting the restaurant, to get on the list. The rest is up to fate because getting an invite doesn’t happen in chronological order. “We tried that, and it didn’t work,” Emily explains. “We’d call people, and they weren’t available that week.”

“It’s completely random,” Gary adds. “We don’t have any rhyme or reason for who we choose. We just kind of close our eyes and pick.” The list, they say, keeps growing, and while they’re not sure how many names are on it, they estimate it’s in the “hundreds.”

It’s personal

“I love making ice cream. But the trick to this is that if you add fresh ginger to your hot base, you’re going to end up with cheese. So, first I made my ice cream base with crystallized ginger and vanilla beans. And I do French bases, so I use egg yolks in mine, which makes it super creamy. Then after the base sat overnight, I added a fresh ginger puree.” —Emily King

Gary and Emily have chosen to keep the dinners at 10 to 12 guests because it’s something they can manage without any help. They can cook, they can serve and they can mingle with their guests. “We’re not doing this for scale,” Gary emphasizes. “We’re doing it because we can, and because it makes us happy.”

The unpredictability, the intimacy, the freedom—that’s what makes Mondays work. “They’re just fun for me and Gary,” Emily says. “They’re a way for us to let loose and be creative and meet people in the neighborhood.”

And while Gary regularly teased the guests about not returning if they didn’t like the food, by the end of the evening, every guest hoped for the opposite. “Everything was delicious, and their passion for the food and sourcing the ingredients made it even more special,” said another guest. “Just trust the process,” said a third. “They know what they’re doing, and they’re really talented. It’s going to be good.”

Gary likens their Monday night dinners to going into New York City for a great meal, which, given Gary’s and Emily’s culinary pedigree, is an apt comparison. “You’re getting amazing ingredients, awesome plating, great presentation, great chefs in a tiny little bagel shop on Main Street,” he describes. “Nobody in the country is doing this. There’s no bagel shop that has a liquor license, and there’s no bagel shop doing secret Michelin-star-quality dinners.”

“Just trust me. You’ll love it.”—Gary King

This article was published in the November/December 2025 edition of Connect to Northern Westchester.