Austin’s Restaurant Carousel: Four New Places to Pretend You Love Before They Close

Oh joy, another round of Austin’s never-ending restaurant roulette, where the only thing more fleeting than your New Year’s resolution is a trendy eatery’s lifespan. This month, we’ve got four new places to Instagram before they inevitably close, and two that have already thrown in the towel—probably after realizing no one actually wants to pay $18 for a taco with "artisanal" microgreens. Let’s dive in, shall we?

First up, Café Crème has decided to bless the Central Library with its presence. Because nothing says "literary enlightenment" like overpriced avocado toast and a latte that looks like your barista’s failed art school project. But hey, at least now you can pretend to read Proust while secretly judging the person next to you for ordering a green tea latte. Tres chic.

Then there’s Le Calamar, rising from the ashes of Underdog like a phoenix, if that phoenix was really into brown butter salsa macha and pretending to be French. The menu is "seasonal," which in Austin-speak means "we’ll charge you $28 for whatever didn’t wilt in the heat this week." But don’t worry, the wine list celebrates Texas and Mexico, because nothing pairs with a $15 oyster like a $40 bottle of Hill Country rosé.

Paperboy has expanded to South Lamar, because apparently, Austin needed another place to wait in line for an hour just to eat eggs. But fear not—this location has a walk-up window, so you can grab your $14 B.E.C. sandwich and flee before anyone notices you’re wearing the same athleisure set as everyone else in line.

And let’s not forget Poeta, which has moved into a house because nothing says "fine dining" like eating wagyu in what used to be someone’s living room. At $65 for a tasting menu, it’s a steal—assuming you’re okay with pretending to know what "crudo" means while silently Googling it under the table.

As for the closings, Mour Cocina has joined the great brunch spot in the sky, leaving behind only a GoFundMe and the lingering question of why anyone thought "elevated" migas needed to cost $22. Meanwhile, Allday Pizza has ditched its trailer to focus on brick-and-mortar locations, because nothing says "commitment" like abandoning the mobile food scene to sell $25 pies in a building with AC.

So there you have it, folks. Another month, another batch of restaurants to obsess over until the next shiny thing opens. Bon appétit, or whatever.