Bars

When you think of the word reception, do you think of a warm welcome at someone’s home, where the hostess takes your coat, inquires how you’ve been and—oh, while she’s in the kitchen—asks whether you need anything to drink? Or do you think of a fabulous party, where all the gussied-up guests are indulging in equally gussied-up gastronomic treats? At the cocktail bar named Reception, you’ll find neither. Instead, you’ll enter a candy-coated, retro-futuristic space with nary a greeting. On a recent Wednesday night, all four tables were filled with groups of friends in beanies and thick glasses. Even parked on a barstool, I had trouble flagging down one of the two bartenders who seemed to be constantly preoccupied and slightly ticked that I was interrupting them. The downtown bar serves cocktails but touts its Korean-inspired “elixirs”—a nebulous buzzword for non-alcoholic drinks that harbor Gwyneth Paltrow–approved health benefits. We went to see if these stone-cold-sober options could cure our winter blues. They couldn’t. Out of the five elixirs, four are indistinguishable from chilled, off-brand seltzers. The exception is Aphrodite’s Milk: As a libation intended to “increase libido,” it’s appropriately thick and nutty, mixed with egg white and black sesame. However, the Skinny Shroom (“aids in the breakdown of fat”) with sparkling buckwheat, shimeji mushroom shrub and quince honey is thin on flavor, and Queen Min’s Botanics (“balances hormones”) with white lotus, ginseng h

There’s so much to poke fun of at this chichi coffee shop. Take the Pepto-pink room that could double as a Wes Anderson set or its preening “every coffee has a story” motto or the tableside rose-water spritzes. But damn if our cynical hearts weren’t melted when the barista, unbidden, offered a one-on-one demonstration of how to make the $14.50 (ha!) Hickory-Smoked S’mores Latte. “Just tell me if you need me to pause for pictures at any point,” he offered this clumsy iPhone photographer. Yes, he’s done this before. And during this adorably overwrought prep, a lot of things happen. First, he offers you a shot of the addictive graham-cracker–infused steamed milk—which would make a fantastic stand-alone slurp—before mixing it with espresso in a chocolate-rimmed coupe. Then, he covers the drink with a glass cloche, infusing it with hickory smoke, thereby cocooning it—and you—in a woodsy aroma. Finally, he adds the finishing touch: a caramelized marshmallow that he torches until it’s golden brown. Midway through drinking your velvety, campfire-kissed treat, he’ll drop off warm hand towels to aid in the gooey, chocolately mess dripping down the stem. But in case the S’mores Latte is sold out (sometimes by 10am—the shop opens at 7am during the week, 8am on weekends), another new-age java is the Deconstructed Espresso Tonic, which comes in a Bordeaux wineglass filled with tonic water, non-alcoholic Campari reduction and lemon-basil leaves. The server mentions that you should first s

Like most elitist things, Undercote plays hard to get. For instance, you can only make a reservation through email. And if you don’t receive a follow-up text, you should have known you haven’t been booked. But on a recent Thursday night, the hostess was able to “squeeze” us into the half-empty speakeasy. The T-shaped room beneath the Korean steakhouse Cote is dimly lit and all black but for the walls, which are adorned with vertical gardens, some set behind glass. It feels very reptile-house chic—you half expect to see a mounted placard delineating the origins of the poison dart frog. This Mother Earth theme extends to the peculiar, NSFW botany-book menu: Most pages don’t list drinks at all, but are instead illustrated with plants and made-up erotic nicknames. The spiky Begonia melanobullata is listed as “a.k.a. SPANK ME” (no thanks), while the leafy Peperomia puteolata is seemingly “RIBBED FOR HER PLEASURE” (how thoughtful). Sandwiched between these Georgia O’Keefe–esque pieces of art are the divine, but astronomically priced drinks. The Role Model and the Cola Nerve Tonic are $27 cocktails that are punched with whiskey, the former soothed by a smoky cocoa tinge and the latter imbued with herbal and floral notes. For sweeter sips, the Big Melons in Little Collins ($20) is rounded out with a nutty, sesame-seed–infused soju, while the juicy Raspberry Beret ($24) is reminiscent of a sour ale mixed with a melted fruit popsicle. But the drinks alone can’t save the night. You’