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Just click your heels together and say, “There’s no place like an East Village bar, there’s no place like an East Village bar.…” In a ’hood chock-full of them, this crimson-bathed beauty stands out. Sink into a low, velvety sofa or nab a spot outside, weather permitting. Patrons are low-key, and bar snacks are Mediterranean palate-pleasers (spinach-and-cheese pies, stuffed dates wrapped in bacon). You may never go back to Kansas.