Wildair

New York is presently silly with natural wine bars, which isn't exactly a problem. But the trend may well not have kicked off at all if somebody hadn't gone first. One place had to be in just the right location with just the right menu and just the right vibes; it had to convince the naive and uninitiated that unfiltered, sometimes cloudy, funky wine was worth savoring; it had to prove natural wine's staying power and enduring appeal. That place was Wildair.

From its unassuming spot on Orchard Street, Wildair was, initially, the little sister to the popular cocktail spot Contra. But after more than a decade, it feels like it exerts some ownership over that little stretch of the LES. It's not imposing, it doesn't call attention to itself, and that might be part of its appeal. The room is tight and a little scuffed—well-loved. That, friends, is called patina.

There's no grand design ethos, no theme. The crowd is the ambiance: the din of a young downtown New York excited to be there. Can their demeanor and volume get irritating if you're not on their level? Oh, yes. But you can't fault them for it, and it's certainly no fault of Wildair's.

The staff is champs, unfailingly patient with people who think a pét-nat is a tiny domesticated bug. And they've got the knowledge driven by enthusiasm if you want to get into the weeds. And you might just; the wine list changes often enough that being a regular here means staying game to tour whatever terroir comes out of the cellar. The staff are always ready to guide without making you feel dumb, so if you're more wine enjoyer than outright enthusiast, the pressure's off.

Food-wise, it's small plates built to accompany the drink. That's not the same as an afterthought; each bite carries enough flavor and texture to assert itself, leaving you looking forward to the next one before you've finished the last. But you may want to get a light dinner before you arrive.

The place is almost always crowded. But if you were expecting anything different from a spot like this in a neighborhood like this, that one's on you. And, to be fair, it's more of a gripe about culture in general than about Wildair specifically.

Reservations are available, but a decent chunk of the room is deliberately held back for whoever shows up first, since a line snaking down Orchard Street is some of the cheapest advertising going. If standing around like a doofus isn't your idea of fun, either show up good and early or just plan ahead.