The 50 best sights and attractions in NYC Version 2 (Test)

Okay, so I fucked up. I showed up on a recent Monday to this Mexican hot spot in Greenpoint, only to realize that I was a week early for my reservation. Completely mortified and slightly panicked given the fact that every seat was filled, I was immediately soothed by the gracious hospitality of the host. The wait looked like an hour, so she made room for me and my dining companions at the corner of the bar, where we ordered drinks and snacks.

Created by the Speedy Romeo team, the recently Michelin-starred Oxomoco felt like we were in a  trendy Mexico City restaurant. Focused on wood-fired dishes, the restaurant exudes a faint campfire smell that spreads throughout the all-white dining room, accented only by the green ivy hanging from the skylights. We stood mesmerized by the glow emanating off the illuminated bar, lined with beautiful bottles of mezcal and tequila, ready to be shaken or stirred into cocktails.

Praise be a restaurant that still serves frozen drinks in the colder months. The frozen Paloma was a frosty beauty, pleasantly tart with ample floral sweetness to balance the grapefruit. Past an overpriced bowl of underwhelming guac lay the star of the starters: the tlayuda. A toasted tortilla is slathered with mashed sweet potatoes, a pumpkin-seed-–based salsa, brown butter, pomegranate seeds and melty quesillo cheese, making for a dish that hits all the notes: spicy, sweet, salty, cheesy, tangy and crunchy.

A few bites in, we received the joyous news that we would have the privilege of sitting down to complete our meal. Once seated, the masa madness continued with the just-sweet-enough chicken al pastor tacos and the smoky, addictive grilled maitake  tacos, both bursting with just the right levels of heat and acid. However, a slightly bitter taste from the $7-per-taco price tag seemed to overpower both. 

The main attraction was a large-format grilled branzino. Covered in yellow mole and served alongside crispy shards of fingerling potatoes smothered in a tangy herb sauce as well as (you guessed it) more tortillas, the whole dish offered a great juxtaposition of bold, wood-fired flavors and delicate, herbaceous ones.

Our gavage ended with thick slices of toasted pumpkin bread topped with sour apple jam to cut through the quenelle of velvety brown-butter ice cream, which was better than most offerings from the top NYC scoop shops. While I left this meal learning the lovely lesson of always double-checking my reservation, the silver lining was that my next visit to Oxomoco was already planned.

Quality Italian's chef power couple Angie Rito (Torrisi Italian Specialties) and Scott Tacinelli (Quality Meats) turn out modern Italian-American plates at this small corner trattoria in the Village. Lit solely by warm globe lights and candles at night, the romantic locale serves inventive plates like a decadent, deconstructed lasagna for two, prime rib braciole, and two-toned pasta alongside Campari- and Cocchi-based cocktails.  

There is an argument to be made that New York’s best shows are staged not in theaters, but in restaurants and bars. Like the 19th-century opera audiences who trained their binoculars on each other’s boxes, each night we seat ourselves en masse in darkened watering holes and restaurants to preen, size each other up and—almost as an afterthought—eat or drink something, too. So when a venue incorporates a layer of theatricality to the performance already being staged by its patrons, how do they react? That’s the question raised by the dreamy, overgrown rooftop bar just south of Hell’s Kitchen called Gallow Green, which sits atop a warehouse that operates as the “McKittrick Hotel” for the wildly popular interactive theater performance Sleep No More.

In the early evening, the height affords a regal view of gleaming West Side buildings and the cloud-streaked horizon. A floor of pebbles and slate, trellises woven with flowers and weathered wooden tables recall an upstate country home left adorably to seed. But as the sun descends over the Hudson and darkness encroaches, something stranger occurs. Christmas lights encircling small trees and the rafters overhead blink to life. A brass band waltzes dizzyingly through a funereal tune. An attractive waitstaff in virginal white uniforms materializes out of the shadows, while actors borrowed from the show downstairs weave in between tables, talking to guests in faux-British accents and lending the place the feel of a garden party lost in time. The overall effect, depending on your taste, is either charmingly loopy or gratingly campy.

DRINK THIS: When you're sitting under the lofty vines, hand-crafted cocktails are just an order away, including the Sleep No More (pea flower-infused vodka, elderflower, and rosé cider) and Gallow Green (bourbon, blue curaçao, citrus, and ginger), which are named after the hotel and its residents. For the summer, there is also frozé on tap, wine by the glass and bottle, local seasonal draft beers, and bottled ciders.

EAT THIS: The hotel’s executive chef, Pascal Le Seac’h, has created a menu of favorites—a lobster roll served on a toasty buttered potato roll with fresh Old Bay chips, and the GG Burger, made with a special blend of DeBragga steak cuts, homemade pickles, and bacon marmalade with fries—and new dishes like a Fattoush salad with diced vegetables, chickpeas, fresh mint, and crispy strips of naan lightly dressed in yogurt, and a Banh Mi sandwich made with maple-soy glazed pork belly and pickled vegetables on a baguette. There's a raw bar too (lightly fried calamari and a gorgeous crudité bowl) and a rich menu of desserts that includes a silky orange panna cotta and sorbet and ice cream by Il Laboratorio del Gelato.

GOOD FOR: A third date. The place is helplessly romantic, capturing the looseness and frivolity of a well-oiled summer wedding, but in a way that never feels saccharine (the name of the bar, after all, is borrowed from the famous Scottish field where six 17th-century “witches” were hanged and burned). Meanwhile, you can either laugh with or at the chirpy, surreal interjections of the period actors, depending—again—on your tolerance for cheeky drama.

THE CLINCHER: Sleep No More’s knack for transportive set pieces reveals itself here in an abandoned antique railcar, home to the best seats in the house. While you might wonder how it got there, the real miracle is how perfectly natural it looks on a Chelsea rooftop.

— Christopher Ross 

Located in a basement storefront on Forsyth Street, you might just miss Wayla upon first glance. With little signage pointing you in the right direction, down the steps is a secret Thai restaurant and bar oasis not to be missed. The dark and cavernous spot joins the growing number of nightlife restaurants-slash-bar destinations in the area, with tricks up its sleeve and more soul to set it apart from the pack.  The new LES spot from Northern Tiger’s Erika Chou offers home-style dishes prepared by Chef Tom Naumsuwan like nam prik and sautéed morning glory, inspired by his growing up in Bangkok and hanging out at the markets there. Drinks include "Sway Wayla" (violet butterfly pea flower, with shiso, Brooklyn Gin, lemon and cucumber) and "Golden Cassia" (rye, chrysanthemum, demerara, ginger and Fever tree club soda) or "The Land of Smiles" (Gran Centenario Plata, thai chili, tamarind, cucumber and lemon sea salt). For dessert try Thai Coconut ice cream with an unexpected bite of jackfruit with a mochi-like gumminess. Wayla means "time" in Thai, and you'll want to spend some of yours at their secret backyard decorated with rugs and outdoor chairs with charming lighting. Soon, Wayla will open to-go upstairs with their Little Wayla concept.