Written on January 25, 2026, for a community event in Ann Arbor. Some edits made in the wake of the recent loss of Tommy York, cofounder, visionary, and familiar face of YORK.
On Friday night in January, I learned something new about a place I’ve been going to for over 12 years. I thought I knew a lot about the space within the four walls I’d visited hundreds of times, in a dozen different seasons of life, but it continues to surprise me.
I enjoy a five minute walk to YORK from my house, or after dropping my kids off at school, anywhere from one to five or six times a week. I gladly spend a little bit more than I should on a small iced Americano in a large glass, and spend a little less than I think they could charge for a delicious bagel, egg, cheese, and avocado sandwich. I work from there many mornings a week, a break from being in my home office. Sometimes I go there during happy hour when my husband is traveling—I book a babysitter and enjoy a solo drink and a snack. Often I suggest it as a place for a coffee, lunch, or dinner meeting. We take our kids so they can play with Legos, or run around outside, while we choose from all the food options, and cocktails.
Which is to say, I utilize the full range of their operating hours, always greeted by familiar faces behind the bar. And before I even lived here, it exemplified to me the true meaning of a third space.
I used to walk to YORK from my in-laws’ house a few times per year. I can’t remember if I discovered it or if they suggested it to me as a place I could go to get a little bit of work done while we were visiting from Washington ,D.C. I went for the first time in 2014.
Then, it was called “Morgan & York.” Instead of Ricewood, there was a wall of candy to purchase by the pound. Instead of their lunch menu, you could pick up prepackaged Zingerman’s sandwiches. Instead of a full wine bar, it was a wine shop. The back room was used for pop-up sales; I often saw it as a winter market. There wasn’t really outdoor space, save for a few picnic tables that looked like they hadn’t been used in years. Then, like now, the sign outside promised “Cheese, cheese, cheese”—you could find that, and a lot more, inside.
We have visited Ann Arbor from Washington, D.C., then Monterey, California, then D.C. again, and then from Colorado. There were a few staples we went to for lunches and dinners—the usual suspects like Zingerman’s and Leo’s Coney Island. But my usual suspect was YORK. And with each visit, there was something new to it.
The candy wall was gone, replaced by more seating.
The wine shop got moved to the back, replaced in the front by more seating.
The bar and counter expanded around the side.
The menu grew.
The walls were painted.
The walls were filled with award-winning photographs.
The food truck moved in full time, then another one joined outside.
The outdoor space transformed into a patio that could be used almost year-round in Michigan, with a firepit, a kids’ play area, music, and vibes.
The back room gained a beautifully crafted wine bar.
In September 2019 we were on our way from D.C., very newly pregnant with our second kid, and a toddler in-tow. Before we arrived, my father-in-law made sure to give me ample warning of a BIG CHANGE in Ann Arbor. He wanted me to have at least a few days to let it process. The big announcement? “Morgan & York” was now… only… YORK.
It took some time, but we all got used to it! It was small in comparison to the changes in our own lives—two young adults dating in D.C. who got married, adopted a dog, moved across the country twice, had three kids… and eventually, in 2023, ended up living in Ann Arbor.
When we started looking for houses here, I wanted to be open to all corners of this city, because I really only knew about a 2-mile radius with YORK seemingly at the center. But, we’ll just say, long story short, I couldn’t be too far away. We landed in the neighborhood, for good.
In this chapter of YORK and Me, I am, perhaps obviously, a regular. Sometimes, instead of giving me a number for my food, they just put my name on the ticket and know where to find me. I see neighbors and friends, I chat with the other regulars, the bartenders, and the baristas. I revel in the familiar air of the space—one that has seen me in many iterations of my career, parenthood, relationship, and friendships.
I love opening the door and feeling delighted to see someone I wasn’t expecting, and many faces I see all the time, catching up before we open our laptops.
I love that it is a space where I feel known, and where I can regularly come back to as I get to know new people.
I love that it’s now part of a rotation of walkable coffee and food stops in what’s now our neighborhood. I love that I see Meg and Laura, the general managers from Argus—another spot I frequent—who come to YORK on their days off, or for their own meetings.
I love how it’s a third space, a true neighborhood oasis, that fills many gaps and needs for those of us who walk in the doors, or sit outside, every week.
I have loved watching and witnessing it evolve, becoming a space we spend more and more time in.
I loved that I almost always saw the co-owner and Chief Operator, Tommy, behind the bar or bussing tables or talking with all of us regulars. Not too long ago, he said to me, “I think you’re here more often than I am!” The space will never feel quite the same without him, but he’s still here, in many ways.
On the aforementioned Friday night in January, my husband and I went there for a drink before meeting friends for dinner. We took the last two seats at the bar. We ran into another friend, who was there for a semi-regular gathering with one of the space’s partners. He mentioned the basement of YORK, and I actually gasped!
Like an old friend, or even our own self, I love that 12 years in, I’m still learning something new (to me) about YORK. It used to be the one space I knew in Ann Arbor that I could go to for some time on my own, now it’s a space I visit every week, to be delighted by both the familiarity in the air, and the community inside the doors.