Apollo Bagels is facing an unusual problem. Four months after opening its second location, in Manhattan’s West Village, the bagel shop is under threat of eviction. The reason? It’s too popular. The plaintiff? Its landlord, who has grown tired of the never-ending line snaking around the corner of his building at the intersection of Greenwich Avenue and West 11th Street.
Since opening its first location, in the East Village, this March, Apollo Bagels has achieved the rare feat of becoming a favorite of both TikTokers and New York’s old guard alike. While bagels are hardly scarce in the city, Apollo Bagels has joined the ranks of new businesses, such as PopUp Bagels, that are putting a unique spin on the bread. Founded by Joey Scalabrino, 34, the shop balances tradition with what some might call sacrilege: the sourdough bagels are served toasted and open-faced.
The menu is a mix of classics—plain, sesame, and everything bagels; scallion and plain cream cheese; black coffee and orange juice—and anomalies. Toppings range from smoked salmon and whitefish, to jam and butter, to tomato and cream cheese, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper. The bagels are made with more water and a longer fermentation process than the average variety; the sourdough style results in a fluffy inside and a crunchy crust. The business opened its third shop, in Williamsburg today, and the fourth, in Hoboken, is close behind.
Born in SoHo in 1990, Scalabrino grew up far away from the culinary world—his father worked in construction and his mother in hospitals. He dreamed of becoming a graphic designer until graduating from high school, in 2018, when he got a job in the kitchen at La Esquina. “That place was ahead of its time,” Scalabrino tells me about the Nolita institution, which opened in 2005 and has since been pivotal to popularizing Mexican food in Manhattan.
Scalabrino quickly moved from kitchen to kitchen, working at the since shuttered Le Restaurant, in TriBeCa—known for its experimentation with uncommon ingredients—in 2013, and then Williamsburg’s Mediterranean-American mainstay, Lighthouse, in 2016. “The standard kitchen was never really my thing,” says Scalabrino. The real appeal, he reflects, was the ability to immerse himself in new cultures.
Visiting Copenhagen changed everything for the young chef. In 2013, a 23-year-old Scalabrino flew to the Danish capital to explore the culinary innovation taking place in restaurants such Noma and the now closed Relæ. “The most fascinating part was their coffee and bakery culture,” he says, marveling at the devotion to ingredient quality. “As soon as I got back, I started making bread.”
Scalabrino never worked in a professional bakery, crafting his sourdough recipe on his own. And, once he’d perfected it, he and his friend Mike Fadem opened the sourdough-pizza restaurant Leo, in Williamsburg, in 2019. The Copenhagen influence extends beyond the fermented dough: natural wine is served in short wineglasses, and a minimal décor features light wood floors, black bistro chairs, and industrial lights.
Just three months after Leo’s opening, the unexpected struck—the coronavirus pandemic reached the U.S., forcing Leo to temporarily close its doors. Quarantining at home, Scalabrino taught himself how to make bagels. As a New Yorker, he loved the breakfast staple but wanted to find a way to “not feel so terrible after eating it.” Inspired by Danish pastries, he found his solution once more in sourdough.
By the end of the lockdown, Scalabrino was selling the bagels at Leo, which were an instant hit. In 2022 he opened a sourdough-bagel pop-up at Fanelli’s restaurant, in SoHo, followed by ones in cities from Montreal to Paris and Ibiza.
Building Apollo’s brand took two years. Scalabrino collaborated with his friend James Anderson to craft a unique visual identity, and chose the name Apollo after the god of light, feeling it resonated with his business’s focus on a traditionally daytime food and the product’s lightness.
“We didn’t want to make something that was too far off from what New Yorkers are used to,” Scalabrino says, detailing the deli-inspired self-serve fridge and preserved moldings painted in the brand’s blue, red, and white. Yet subtle nods to his Danish influences are ever present. “There are hints of Scandinavia,” he says, but always “in a way that works for the New York speed and culture.”
Jeanne Malle is an Associate Editor at AIR MAIL
