Julien Levy

Midtown isn’t a destination; it’s where you end up between obligations. Nobody goes there on purpose—they come through a glass revolving door at 11:42am, late to their meeting or timed museum visit. The likelihood is that you’re in midtown because your family is visiting. They want to see a show or something. Well, with our help, you can power lunch them silly. Just don’t make eye contact with the work-shirts hunched over martini lunches, humming the 1% blues. The truth is that under the starch, glass, and car-choked avenues, midtown, like every other neighborhood in this city, plays home to a staggering diversity of cultures, ethnicities, interests, religions, socio-economic statuses, and every other thing. The point is that, no matter what you’re looking for and unlikely as it may seem, there’s a restaurant in midtown that ticks your boxes. So what we’ve got for you, intrepid sojourner, is a slew of options from the depths of food halls to the tippy top of the culinary mountain—all of them worthy of being one of the best restaurants in midtown. RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants in NYCSeptember 2025: Some places have moved, others closed, still more are exactly where we left them. It’s hard to sift through what makes a place worth recommending; beyond what we’ve listed here, there are a slew of other excellent restaurants worth your money and time but the thing is that we tried to narrow our selections down a bit to places that are exceptional, singular, unique–the kind of

Let’s make a distinction up front: there’s a big difference between witchy-gothy fun toying with aesthetics and vibes, and places with a history of (reported, supposedly) real supernatural activity. While we do love the fun and kitsch and edge-lordliness of drinking cocktails while trying to fend off an actor dressed as Beetlejuice, or doing shots in a room that could be Lestat’s boudoir, or listening to The Cramps while sipping a cocktail made with real blood—the following list falls into the other category. Never mind that it's proven certain HVAC and plumbing systems can generate infrasound, instilling a seemingly inexplicable sense of dread for which there’s a solid evolutionary advantage (i.e., many big cats’ roars, thunderstorms, and geological events all produce that same inaudible, sphincter-tightening frequency). Some places just feel haunted. So, if you’re bound and determined to eat and drink with a side of parapsychological phenomena, head to NYC's most haunted bars and restaurants below. September 2025: We’ve expanded this list to include a few more places with reported spooky goings on. Clearly, none of the places on this list are new—that’s kind of the point. We’ve just broadened out a bit and given more room to the apparitions themselves, diving a little deeper into the lore. Not every place here can be visited at Witching Hour (3:00am), when the veil between this world and the next is its thinnest, so YMMV.

New York City does indeed love its wine. And like everything else here, there’s a place for you, whoever you are and whatever you’re into. The “wine bar” appellation might conjure images of candlelit rooms with a Jazz soundtrack and naught but bread and olives to eat—and those exist, for sure—but it isn’t as specific as you might imagine. The best wine bars in NYC are cozy little nooks and bustling dining rooms that fit the bill from Midtown to Bushwick. So, how do you decide where to go? Well, much like a novice, sweating, staring at a wine list, your best bet might be to seek guidance. To that end, below you’ll find a diverse range of NYC wine bars with a wide variety. But why commit to one when—lucky you—there are so many to explore? RECOMMENDED: The best bars in NYC August 2025: Sadly, many wine bar favorites didn’t survive COVID and/or economic vicissitudes. Coast and Valley, Lois, Lalou, Rooftop Reds, Peoples Wine Bar—we raise a glass to you! The good news is that newcomers are cropping up all the time, and there are quite a few of those fresh faces below.

It’s theater, it’s a party, and yes, it’s a delicious meal. But what makes KBBQ especially thrilling in NYC? Range. You’ve got Michelin Star execution, no-frills all-you-can-eat, and places that feel half-nightclub–all just a subway ride away. Each Korean barbecue restaurant in NYC offers something special, each has its place, but all hold the same promise: grilled protein, communal cooking, and a lot of fun. Add some alcohol into the mix and... ooh baby. A KBBQ night might just get you feeling sentimental about the glorious melting pot that is our city. But it might also just leave you feeling full and happy. RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants in NYC  August 2025: Many places from Ktown to Flushing have adjusted their hours and prices, but what you love about KBBQ in NYC remains intact. Unlike many other styles of eating typical to the Western demo, KBBQ is priced per person, so keep in mind that your mileage may vary if cost is a concern. Also worth noting is that we’ve chosen to focus here on the table BBQ, but most of the restaurants listed below also have kitchens that produce the other dishes, including banchan.

Solid bedrock is one of the central geological features enabling New York to sprawl skyward. But that same terra firma also means that builders and property owners can set their sights lower. Most buildings reserve their basement space for, y’know, basement stuff. Lucky for us, a few possess the arable conditions of space, code compliance, and vision that let basement bars take root. RECOMMENDED: The best bars in New York Basement bars truly are special things. No matter what awaits you, descending a set of stairs to a bar feels like being let into a secret. In New York, that feeling in itself is serious currency. Some basement bars let their digs remain in the novelty zone; they simply found an accommodating space and–windows, who needs ‘em? But a few places know the premium of subterranean space all too well and utilize it to play with irony or design. Some bars even lean all the way in, adopting a full-on speakeasy theme, eschewing signage altogether and decking their bar out in 20s style.  No one approach is right because not every bar is for every person. That’s why we are here: to give you a rundown of some of our favorite NYC basement bars.  August 2025: It’s impossible on a city summer’s sojourn–standing on a squalid subway station’s sweltering subterranean platform–to consider almost anything other than your proximity to hell. The irony is that, on a day like that, there is really no better place to beat the heat than underground–in cool environs with a cold drink in

Sure–celebrating Cinco de Mayo satisfies any South-of-the-Border craving, but why reserve the city’s best margaritas in NYC for just one day? It's always time for tequila, especially when shaken up with a hit of spice or swirled with sweet watermelon. Hit NYC’s best Mexican restaurants for some serious agave spirits, or down them alongside some of Gotham's best tacos. Fair warning, though: You're gonna want a pitcher.   RECOMMENDED: Full guide to cocktails in NYC Updated May 2025: We added Gueros Brooklyn, Fresco's Cantina, Oyamael and Superbueno. We removed the Black Ant as it closed, La Contenta, La Loncheria and Kokomo. 

When good weather breaks through the clouds, NYC has an abundance of things to do outside. In addition to parks and other outdoor attractions, we have a slew of rooftop bars and outdoor dining options to choose from. And some of the best bars in NYC fit into the beer garden and hall categories, ideal for those brief and beautiful moments when it’s neither too hot nor too cold, and only a crisp brew will do. These NYC beer gardens have everything you’d expect—outdoor tables, fun games, lovely music and, of course, thirst-quenching pints, many brewed on-site. Throw in some tasty snacks and you’ve got yourself the perfect afternoon. Whatever style of suds you prefer, NYC has an alfresco option for sipping a cold one on a gorgeous day. RECOMMENDED: Full guide to things to do outside in NYC

Not ready for the 6-train schlep, but not prepared to call the evening quits? If you're wondering where you should you go for that all-important, post-cultural-experience debrief or where to grab a sophisticated sipper or what your best option is for getting weird and spending a night out on the Upper East Side, we can help. I’m a lifelong New Yorker with roots on the UES—my dad grew up in a Yorkville tenement when it the area was still populated almost entirely by diasporic Europeans—and I’ve been a bartender in the city for well over a decade. So rather than abandon all hope ye who enter the UES, think of me as Virgil to your Dante. If you’re looking for the best bars on the Upper East Side and what to drink once you’re there, follow me and I’ll see you through. RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants on the Upper East Side

What are you doing in midtown? Seeing a show? Going to a meeting? Did you get lost? This is New York City, so people do actually live in midtown, which means it's an honest to goodness neighborhood. No every single bar therein is a tourist trap or pit of besuitted finance bros—some are just actually great bars proud to serve their (comparatively) little community.  The last time I went to midtown, I met a friend at Nothing Really Matters. I won’t spoil why the place is so special (read below!) but it was fun to watch my normally-jaded, native New Yorker buddy light up with excitement at how actually great that bar is—no qualifications. As a native myself, I got a real kick out of playing host in such an odd, scarcely-visited section of Manhattan isle. Below, you’ll find hotel bars, dives, cocktail meccas—a little something for everyone. It turns out midtown, like every neighborhood in this city, contains multitudes. Remember this: In a city as dynamic and disparate as New York, defying expectations set by neighborhood prejudice is a precious kind of currency. And on the other side of that coin is familiarity with the institutions that define a neighborhood’s identity. So pay attention to the places I’ve named below and next time you’re in the area (no matter the reason) you’ll be flush.   RECOMMENDED: See all of the best bars in NYC March 2025: We removed Five Acres and King Cole Bar and added As Is.

Every day across the five boroughs, food & bev establishments make their play to attract you—yes, you—with a few scant hours of cheap deals. We’re talking happy hour and, if you ask me, a native New Yorker with over a decade of bartending under my belt, there’s no reason to play hard-to-get. Maybe these bars and restaurants are trying to woo you with a few bucks off the top, a lagniappe on your order, an oh-so-special menu—a lot of places shoot their shot, but only a few really hit.  Look, if you’re content to hold off enjoying yourself until weekend evenings when nearly all of the best spots pack to the rafters and you’re paying through the nose to catch a buzz, knock yourself out. But if you’re smart, you’ll jump on an opportunity when you see it. To that end, below you’ll find some of the best happy hours across the city and the deals therein. Cocktailing, food, wine and beer, there’s a little something for everyone. Just keep in mind: once the word is out, no deal lasts (especially a great one) so don’t delay.  RECOMMENDED: Full guide to the best bars in NYC

Forget Boston—New York City’s got its own long-standing, deep connection with Ireland, its people and its culture and this necessarily includes public houses. But calling a bar an “Irish Pub” means different things to different people and all depends on what kind of experience you’ve got in mind. Maybe you’re on the lookout for an emerald-green kitsch fest, maybe you’re trying to get a touch of home in some peace and quiet. Whatever you’re after, we’ve got you covered. Am I Irish? Nope. Does my red coloring get me mistaken for Irish? Almost daily. Have I been drinking in New York City’s Irish bars for over 15 years? Indeed. Still, qualified though I may be, in my effort to bring you the very best, I felt it was important to recruit help from Irish expat friends and in-laws—the type of people who know how to have a good bit o’ fun but roll their eyes at the very mention of a shamrock. The result is what you’ll find below: an assemblage of places from cocktail meccas to dives, at almost every single one of which, you can get yourself a perfectly-pulled Guinness. RECOMMENDED: See the full St. Patrick's Day in NYC guide February 2025: We've updated this list ahead of St. Patrick's Day so that you've got the best pubs to plan your partying at. We added spots like The Dead Rabbit, Hartley's and Cronin & Phelan’s.

It’s that time of year again, New York City sports fans! That’s right: the game of games, the last NFL matchup until kickoff next September: Super Bowl Sunday is nigh.  This year’s contest will be fought in New Orleans, and, with a little planning, you can party like a pro in NYC, too, with wings, beer and nachos. If you're not into hosting or staying in, below, you’ll find recommendations for where to watch the Super Bowl at 6:30pm EST on February 9, with selections that suit every taste, in whichever borough you call home.  RECOMMENDED: Find more on the Super Bowl in NYC

Pass the more obvious entrance to the listed address and walk into the sketchy-looking smoke shop. Immediately to your right, there is a set of stairs. Up that set of stairs and boom, you’re in your destination: Sushi 35 West. Confused? Is there a door to walk through? Some bait and switch; a pristine, hushed sushi temple made of wood, awaiting? Nope. Just a hallway. A service or utility hallway from the looks of it. The kind of place into which service staff at other establishments would duck to catch a smoke. To be clear: it’s not dirty. It’s just not… y’know, a restaurant. And y’know what? That’s fine.  This is maybe some of the best sushi in the city and that’s what you’re paying for. Not service or ambiance or comfort. Quality. That’s it. It’s an admirably honest and straightforward approach to dining: cutting out everything that isn’t directly related to the food. In this way, they’re really doing you a favor–sushi of this quality virtually anywhere else costs an arm and a leg. Order at the window, get your food, walk away. It’s luxury to-go. The only thing is, if you’re here and the tables are all full, you’d better have a backup plan for where to eat. Do not wait that hour on the train to get back to your Queens apartment to eat this. Seriously, do NOT do that. If anything, walk the few blocks to Bryant Park. The menu isn’t long. There’s no drinks menu, just some sodas and hot tea. If you’re not picky, there are pre-selected sets to streamline operations. Everything c

Rockefeller Center is a pretty stressful place overall. There’s just a ton going on all the time. Too much. But the team behind Frenchette has transplanted a fun downtown brasserie’s heart into Midtown’s hulking suit of Art Deco armor. Upon awakening, their creation (known as Le Rock) has arrived, serving up beautiful bread, gorgeous pâté, and excellent cocktails, ensuring you’re comfortable and having a nice time. It’s an astounding feat that feels impossible, but undeniable: Le Rock makes being in Rockefeller Center worth your while.  High ceilings, Art Deco bones, terrazzo underfoot, a bronzed glow that lights up faces. It’s a beautiful room, top to bottom. Tables do fit snug in the dining room, which means that the noise level can reach a din and all of a sudden you start getting visions of why Rockefeller Center was to be avoided. But if you’re blessed with a little space and a reasonably calm crowd, none of that matters. And lunch tends to present a more placid service, so you may want to plan on a visit midday. Cocktailing here is delightful: precise, clean, interesting, without reading convoluted. The Martinis Maison are the headline, and they do really feel right in this room: Super Sec (overproof gin, extra-dry and white vermouth) is crystalline clarity—mature and bracing. The Au Poivre folds in spicy green peppercorn notes that’ll wake up your senses. Classic builds are available if you don’t want to venture too far. And there are a few other fun concoctions featur

Nasrin Rejali cooked her way from the streets of Tehran to Billionaires’ Row. No mean feat. Arriving in the U.S. by way of Turkey in 2016, she’s managed to parlay successful pop-ups into her very own brick-and-mortar, planting a culinary flag for her culture, traditions and cuisine. Nasrin’s Kitchen is not overthought, self-conscious posturing or a history lesson—it’s honest, delicious food, plain and simple. The restaurant is on the second floor of a dowdy 57th Street townhouse, around the corner from the Plaza Hotel and Central Park. Aromas and the murmur of happy diners do much of the level-setting as you ascend the stairs. The room’s marble walls and columns are obviously incidental—a condition of Rejali’s new home rather than a feature; the Persian touches throughout are an infusion of hospitality and hominess and warmth to the cold, pale, stone surroundings.Service is, in a word, proud. Servers are happy to share the space with you but not obsequious. They’re gently directive when you want help, hands-off when you don’t. The drinks here play backup, not lead. There are a few wines and a handful of Person beers that are light in ABV but tasty. If you like hot tea, that feels like the house specialty. You’re not obliged to try, but it does feel hand-in-glove. On her restaurant’s site, chef Rejali states in bold that cooking is an expression of love, and it’s not hyperbolic to say you can practically taste her assertion. These are home recipes rooted in inherited tradition

The Ear is a charming, stubborn sliver of old New York at the western end of Spring Street in a liminal neighborhood beyond SoHo’s borders and not quite The Village that—according to the eyeroll-inducing dictates of NYC real estate—is now called Hudson Square, I guess. The bar claims continuous service since 1817, which makes it one of the city’s oldest. Housed in the James Brown House historic landmark, the it’s just steps from what used to be the river’s edge, which you can see demarcated on the wall outside. But who goes to The Ear Inn for a history lesson?  The decor is unfancy, style-agnostic in a way that allows it to be itself. There’s some decorative junk above and behind the bar, wearing a half-inch-thick patina of dust. But what catches your attention is dark wood and brass warmed by daylight filtered through a green awning. The place feels old, but isn’t playing that or any other card. And unlike others of its vintage, The Ear Inn isn’t trying to sell you a Disneyland version of itself; the staff aren’t in costume, they’re not hocking branded trash. The closest thing to a schtick is the place’s nautical theme, but before John Lennon and Tom Waits and Salvador Dali ever drank here, it was indeed a longshoremen’s bar on the river. No pretense here. The drinks are, as you may expect, straightforward. Draft lines run reliable names, there are bottles and cans, and anything cocktail-adjacent clocks in at a reasonable price. Service is New York brisk i.e. efficient and u

KGB Bar is a small, stubborn, simple room that does its part to keep the city’s guttering literary flame alight. On most nights, there’s a reading—poets, novelists, editors, students, old lions. Hang around long enough and you’re likely to rub elbows with someone whose work you admire. And the big names aren’t slumming it here—in a sense, it’s as much a bar as a literary laboratory. One flight up and off the street, KGB is hard to stumble upon by accident. The decor is pseudo-communist themed: peeling red paint and propaganda poster art, the odd portrait and relic. It’s grubby in the right way; writers do love the trappings of struggle and strife. There are some small tables and a short bar and that’s about it. Close quarters mean that if you, say, pull out your phone in the middle of a reading, every single person in the room will be distracted. Do not do this. Drinks are basic—beers, liquor, and some wine. You get the idea. The bartenders keep it moving. It’s not a mixology showcase and care about that in the slightest. Booze is there to lubricate the social aspect of an inherently solitary pursuit. Hours are long (daily roughly 7pm–4am), and when the downstairs feels too packed, the Red Room upstairs hosts its own slate of cabaret and literary programming under a Deco glow. At one time, the bar offered Russian-branded liquor but the place (like the neighborhood) was actually home to Ukrainian expats. To be clear, the place isn’t inhospitable on cultural/ethnic grounds, but

As far as tourist magnets go, Fraunces is one of New York’s best. It’s a stately brick colonial that overtly exploits its own history, yes, including occupancy by George Washington. But the place still works on a few levels beyond that i.e. you can get a good buzz going in a cool room with pretty good food.  The decor isn’t doing Revolutionary War-era cosplay so much as continuity. Low light, old wood, and a warren of rooms—squint and you could be in an HBO period piece. Don’t be fooled by the crowded Independence Bar when you walk in—there are several different bars to choose from if you venture further, each with its own flavor. Lafayette’s Hideout is a Whiskey Bar, there are the Tallmadge and Bissell rooms that look like museum dioramas, and upstairs there’s a Piano Bar. Reservations are a good idea if you’re with a big party; those land you in the dining rooms. Drinks lean brown and sturdy with an Irish streak, so it almost goes without saying that you can get a nice pint of Guinness. And the whiskey selection is deep, so there’s that. If you’re not in the market, there are all kinds of other libations–they want you to stay a while. Live music seven nights a week (piano upstairs, trad jazz downstairs) gives the place a pulse. Service is highly efficient with friendly staff darting to-and-fro down the labyrinthine corridors. If you catch one of them on your way inside, they’ll direct you accordingly. Foodwise, Fraunces is a crowd-pleaser as long as your crowd is pleased by

Tucked into the elbow of Chinatown’s Doyers Street—a narrow, storied bend that feels like a set piece (and indeed has been)—Apotheke trades in equal parts cocktails and atmosphere.  The room itself is nearly cave-dark—romantic, yes, but dim enough that if you’ve dressed to impress, your date may have to take your word for it. That’s fine; at $20 a pop, this isn’t likely a linger-all-night lounge so much as a place for a round or two orbiting dinner plans. The space isn't big–just a handful of small tables and banquettes, so you’re likely to hear the conversation around you. But it doesn’t feel cramped or uncomfortable and the music stayed at a nice, balanced level. Service here is excellent—precise and helpful without airs, with a server happy to guide your choices. Cocktails arrive with the kind of polish that suggests serious prep and skill behind the bar, and servers add theatrical flourishes—torching garnishes, igniting citrus oils—just enough to elicit an impressed utterance or whistle from across the table. It’s a quick but effective performance and it lands. Still, I’d be curious to see if the server was directed to put on a show even if they perceived the guests were locked way into conversation. The drinks themselves are complex but not alienating; you can read the menu and have a fair sense of what you’re in for, which is a relief on one hand but also means that the menu isn’t quite as much of an adventure as some contemporaries. The menu is organized into cute cate

Operated since 1965 by pizzaiolo Dom DeMarco—well into his 70s—Di Fara was already an institution by the time I first walked in, on an unremarkable afternoon home from college for spring break. I’d told a Brooklynite buddy I’d never eaten there before and didn’t see the big deal. He drove us to Midwood immediately.  A counter, a soda fridge, a few surfaces to eat at, paisano‑schmaltz on the walls—it was then as it is now, a frumpy little box more store than restaurant. The place teemed with people, so after waiting about a half hour for our pie, my friend and I walked down the block and ate from the box open on his car’s hood. It folded neatly, as a slice should, but without the New York signature oregano bouquet. Aromatic, lactic, salty, fatty, acidic—the perfume of basil, the salty hit of parm, the crispy bottom giving way to a satisfying chew. Each ingredient’s freshness and quality stood proud, but a puffed‑up Neapolitan this wasn’t. Familiar and novel at once; unpretentious yet undeniably a cut above. This was alchemy. “It’s all about balance,” Dom DeMarco told me on a recent visit—that’s the younger Dom, pizza scion who took over after his father died in 2022. “I learned from him when I was a kid, standing right there,” he said, pointing to the marble slab where the old man tossed dough, ripped fresh mozz with his fingers, snipped basil over each and every pie with scissors. But that’s not how it is anymore. And that was my apprehension on my recent visit. It was Tuesda

In a post-Chumley’s world, “speakeasy” is no more than a marketing adjective aimed at influencers (rendering any argument to the contrary an absurdity) The Back Room has some bona fides. Tucked behind the ghost of Ratner’s legendary kosher dairy restaurant (I still pine for that mushroom barley soup!), The Back Room was a real-ass speakeasy in the 1920s. Back then, you’d slip through a hidden door hoping no prohees or coppers got wise or you’d wind up in the hoosgow. Today, the main risk you run is tripping over someone filming content for their “hidden NYC gems” reel. Inside is where The Back Room casts its spell: velvet armchairs, ornate chandeliers, big baroque paintings, high stamped-tin ceilings and a brick fireplace that once warmed the knees of gangsters and their molls. It’s low-lit, vibey and beautiful–an undeniably special space with history you can feel. There’s even a “hidden” back room behind a bookshelf. There are beers, a few wines, and some mocktails. They’ve got Moet and Dom if you’re in the market. The cocktails aren’t ornate or inventive—espresso martini, Corpse Reviver, spicy marg. The bartenders are pros and will whip up whatever you want, but this place isn’t really about putting mixologists through their paces. It’s crowd-pleasing, which isn’t a bad thing. The hook is really in the presentation: drinks come in teacups atop saucers. It’s a wink at the bar’s bootlegging days—a gimmick but an undeniably cute one.  If you come midweek, the place is likely t

The current state of the New York City slice is that an overengineered yet exceedingly average product will garner lines around the block and a 2000+ word write-up in a bourgeois magazine. So where does that leave a place like Bleecker Street Pizza? The corner location is well-lit, clean, tidy enough that you won’t give it a second thought. Apart from the requisite wall-mounted media clips, photos of celebrities with the air of a hostage-situation proof-of-life, and kitschy New Yawk ephemera, the space is utilitarian: a counter where you order, a standing bar, a handful of small tables inside and on the sidewalk, a dining area off to the side where there’s a bit more room. What more do you need? Drink-wise, it’s sodas and such yanked from a cooler or dispensed from a fountain. You can also show your ID to grab beer or wine with your pizza, which earns the place an extra point or two. A glance through the sneeze-guard reveals tourist-bait pies with goofy toppings that no self-respecting New Yorker would touch: A) Your average NYC slice is tasty enough on its own to save you a bit of money. B) That chicken and ranch have been sitting at room temp for God knows how long whereas plain and pepperoni pies are virtually guaranteed to be the fr-fr-freshest C) A heap of toppings make a slice wetter and heavier than the form is meant to handle. Would you top a hot dog with spaghetti?  But you didn’t come here for a sermon. You want pizza brass tacks, and here they are: Bleecker Street

Terroir Tribeca struts into the wine bar conversation like a tatted-up punk rock frontman taking the stage only to belt "Ave Maria." From eccentric sommelier‑showman Paul Grieco, this place is proof that taking wine—especially Riesling—seriously doesn’t mean taking oneself too seriously. Here, reverence and irreverence are given equal footing, which is refreshing, different, and fun.The room itself is decidedly classy but clearly celebrates that which is not, almost like a bottle of Romanee-Conti being sipped with a silly straw. It’s a nicely appointed room with a handsome bar, tended by friendly folks who know their stuff and are happy to help. The bottles against the brick wall and kitschy fridge-magnet signage give dive bar energy. This isn’t a hushed cathedral of self-seriousness; you feel like you’re allowed to have fun here—and should.Nowhere is the philosophy more in evidence than in the food. Ditching courtliness in favor of comfiness, a fancy spread of cheese, tinned fish, and charcuterie happily rubs elbows with pigs in a blanket, a smash burger, and fish tacos. And two happy hours are in effect every day during which you’ll find discounts on both oysters and wine.The wine list is positively sprawling—crossing styles, regions and price tags from affordability to affluence. The thing reads like a batshit travelogue, peppered with asides that reward the curious. It’s good fun just to peruse the list, even if you’re entirely wine-naive. For further reading, Grieco has

Once, TriBeCa and its northern neighbor, SoHo were the untamed frontier for New York’s artists. Repurposing industrial space soon revealed an affinity between these pilgrims’ artistic endeavors and the iron, brick, and wood hulks of downtown Manhattan’s light manufacturing. The rest is history. Since 2022, TriBeCa restaurant/wine bar Chambers has paid lovely homage to its neighborhood’s story and (bluntly co-opted) spirit, marrying art with artisanship; seasonal cookery with a sommelier’s expertise. Chambers is the spiritual successor to (dearly departed) neighborhood favorite, Racines but operates according to its own rhythm. The room is bright and neat without being stark. The layout is tidy: a bar comfy for solo diners and/or wine sippers, a dining area that feels intimate but not cramped, and the open kitchen that welcomes but does not demand attention. It’s polished and cool without being fussy or needy. The staff are warm, keen hosts to wine nerds and novices alike. And, in a neighborhood-serving move that we wish was more common, Chambers reserves seats for walk-ins. The wine program, overseen by Master Sommelier Pascaline Lepeltier, is as deep as it is wide. The list accompanying dinner is only part of the story—ask, and you’ll be guided through off-menu pours and back vintages. The range is global, featuring regions you didn’t even know cultivated grapes. Prices range from accessible to extravagant, allowing you to tailor the experience with ease. Chef Jonathan Karis

Dear New York City Bar Patrons, It’s me, your trusty bartender. We need to talk about our relationship since COVID. For a few of us, bartending is a career; maybe even a calling. For the rest, it’s a job. Regardless of the motivation, there’s no denying that the way we turn a buck occupies a unique space in American culture. “We work in a very interesting industry where, yeah, it’s all about fun. But, y’know, in that fun, there’s a lot of risk,” says Dan, 37, who is a 20-year service industry veteran and manager/owner/cocktail wizard at West Village spot, Bandits. “You have to look out for people as a bartender.” But COVID flipped the world upside down. That includes us. “One of the first rules [bartenders] always hear is, ’no politics, no, religion in a bar,’” Dan says. “That went out the window because we were forced to kind of be the liaisons of the rules.”   Photograph: Julien Levy | George bartending at Double Windsor Almost overnight, we were effectively deputized COVID compliance officers, shoved onto the front lines. “That created definitely a weird balance where we were forced–or asked to–police our customers a little extra in order to keep the liquor license,” Dan says. Caught between a deadly virus, the government’s inchoate mandates (some of them arbitrary and punitive), our bosses, and you, norms of affability and commiseration had to take a back seat. “We’re here to serve, but we’re nobody’s servant. Don’t agree? There’s the door.” “We used to call it lifegua