Cafe Luxembourg

Photo: Meghan Petersen

The place: Cafe Luxembourg (200 W 70th St between Amsterdam and West End Aves, 212-873-7411)

The diner: Bruce McCall, 73—“I can’t believe it, I’m still a fucking adolescent”—is a native Canadian, humorist and frequent cover illustrator for The New Yorker. “I vastly prefer writing,” he says. “But I have to pay the bills and illustrating tends to pay better.”

The routine: “The first time I ever came here was with Veronica Geng, my former editor at The New Yorker. I remember sitting at the bar and smoking, which gives you a good idea of how long ago it was—about ten years.” Though his schedule sometimes interferes, he has since visited about once a week. “For a long while I ate lunch here alone. As a writer I find that if I get out of the house, I get a much clearer vision of what I’m writing.”

The order: “I don’t care about food,” he levels. “Canadians have no relationship to food.” Aside from regularly drinking coffee, his order varies, though he is particular when it comes to greens: “At lunchtime I often have an omelette with cheddar, bacon, ham or something—never with mushrooms or any of those disgusting vegetables. I hate vegetables. Goes back to my Canadian childhood.”

He says: “Ever since this place opened in 1980, it’s been busy. It gets a huge number of celebrities—Liam Neeson, Pacino used to always eat here—[yet] it doesn’t promote itself as a celebrity spot. And they don’t control the ambience: There are lots of couples, older people, that crowd of seasoned Upper West Siders…You don’t see too many loudmouthed jerks in here.”

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