Julien Levy

Choosing a favorite restaurant in New York City is a joyful task with myriad possibilities depending on the occasion, mood and even the time of year. Your favorite dive, fine dining destination and neighborhood favorite might all occupy top spots on your personal best list in spite of their disparate qualities.  Our list of NYC’s 45 best restaurants is the same, spanning each of those categories and more to comprise a catalog of all the places we wish we were at right now. They don’t have to be the newest or the most recently reviewed, just places that we’ve been to and want to return to again and again, and that we think that you will, too.  Best NYC restaurants at a glance: For an excellent slice: L'Industrie - The New York slice shop that made us fall in love with Burrata slices, now has a new locale in Little Italy (Little Italy, West Village and Williamsburg) For a spin on a classic diner: Thai Diner – Even six years later, crowds line up for Thai tea babka, French toast, and disco fries from this Thai diner. (NoMad) For killer tacos: Carnitas Ramirez – The taqueria is home to nose-to-tail pork cookery, just in taco form, and it all goes down in a laid-back setting (Lower East Side) For a classic steak: The Dynamo Room - The throwback steakhouse offers prime cuts of steaks and classic cocktails right off of Madison Square Garden (Penn Station) Updated August 2026: How do we only have four months left of the year? Before I get too sad at the prospect (or the fact

Barbecue isn’t New York’s thing. There, I said it. We can’t make a claim to a style; we can’t claim that ours is as good as the stuff you’ll find by the side of the road on the byways and backroads of ‘Murcah. Okay? And yes, we recognize that cooking meat on a grill is NOT barbecue, that the word actually connotes a style of slow cooking meat using woodsmoke whose roots are located in Caribbean and African traditions. But the world is small now and, generally speaking, anything can be bought anywhere, so it was really only a matter of time until New York City got its barbecue game together. And, in the past bunch of years, indeed it has. RECOMMENDED: Full guide to the best restaurants in NYC Space is really the limiting factor; smokers are big, and NYC’s regulations vis-à-vis producing a ton of the key cooking element aren’t exactly lax. But a few places have opened up that have figured the whole equation out and they really do produce some great barbecue. What we DO have that not every other place does is a variety of styles; Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas City–they’re all here! While there is a truly beautiful tradition of barbecue in Korea, Japan, Argentina and elsewhere, we’re focused narrowly upon the American tradition here. That means sticky sweet sauces, brisket with a smoky bark, slow-cooked pork, and sides. There’s no guarantee that, if you’re visiting from a barbecue Mecca you’ll be impressed, but if you’re here and you’ve got a hankering or you’re homesick or you’re vi

The odds are pretty good that, if you haven’t been to New York City, you’ve never had great Jewish deli food. There are definitely pockets of it here and there, in Florida and California, sure. But the old world feel and the food that came from those traditions—the traditions themselves, some of them unbroken for over a century—those live in New York. There are a few different forks to that cuisine and today we’re talking about Delis. Delicatessens; places where a person can purchase ready-made foods to take home or eat on the spot. That definition has loosened a lot to encompass any place that serves a corned beef sandwich. And we aren’t splitting hairs here; we say “Jewish Deli,” but we mean the places serving that heart-attack-inducing meat and rye and mustard and pickles goodness. Plus we’ve got the appetizing stuff on here, too: bagels, lox, etc. Mind you: these aren’t bagel places–that’s a different animal. Ditto Israeli food—a completely different thing. No, these are places where you can get traditionally Jewish cuisine, which is really, actually just Eastern European cuisine filtered through the American experience. RECOMMENDED: Full guide to the best restaurants in NYC If you’re going to these places, do yourself a favor and branch out a little beyond the tried and true. We ALL love corned beef, pastrami, et al. But if you’ve never had matzoh ball soup, kishkes, latkes, whitefish—do yourself a favor and give it a try. This is food that’s been sustained by longstan

It’s that season again, when you get to dine by the sun or string lights. There’s something special about it—especially in New York City, where space comes at one of the world’s highest premiums. Luckily, there are plenty of places you can go, ranging from cafeteria-style to fine-dining. Below, you’ll find just such an array. The guiding principle was not merely “is it outside?” because sidewalk dining is often a pretty crappy, shoehorned experience. We’ve chosen to focus on the quality of the restaurant first, then tried to pick places whose outdoor spaces are specifically suited to dining. We’re trying to save you the trouble of parsing for that romantic little nook for a date or a big outdoor expanse for a party. We’ve included every borough, an array of cuisines, and a wide range of price points. Below, the top spots for outdoor dining in NYC RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants in NYC Updated June 2026: Sadly, a few old favorites have bitten the dust. And previous versions of this list skirted the super-casual fat-tail of quality, so we’ve made sure to get those in there. And there hadn’t been representation of The Bronx and Staten Island—you know we love you, too—so they make an appearance this time.

There’s something about warm weather and drinking. Maybe it’s some of that Lost Generation romance, a life affirmation, a sense of being in rather than of the world. Maybe it’s just a nice change of pace from the long, dark, cold season.  RECOMMENDED: The best bars in NYC But New York City is tricky when it comes to all that. It’s super dense with strict laws governing what goes on in shared space, which, considering the aforementioned human congestion, is basically everywhere. Many blocks in the city—especially downtown and in Brooklyn—are built around a central open atrium, allowing light and air into the back ends of buildings. That, in effect, means that you can’t always tell from a bar’s front what it’s got going on in the back. Covid outdoor seating saw revelry spill out onto the street, much to the delight of many young, hip, recently christened New Yorkers. But for better or worse, those days are behind us. What’s a person to do? Simple: find bars that feature dedicated outdoor spaces.We have a few here, but there’s a whole other rundown focusing entirely on rooftop bars, so we’re trying to keep this strictly terrestrial. To that end, what you have before you is a smattering of different experiences. Backyards, piers, parks, a freaking boat–we’ve tried to cover all the bases and present options. Are they the best bars, period? These are the best bars that offer a discrete outdoor area, which precludes curbside huts and sidewalk tables.So without further ado, here are

You often hear about how New York has great food from around the world—different cuisines, traditions and interpretations. It’s a beautiful thing, the tidiest example of our country at its best. What you don’t hear as much about are different restaurant formats—places that don’t conform to the standard American dining style of per-party tables arranged for privacy. Something you hear discussed even less are different bar formats. RECOMMENDED: Full guide to things to do outside in NYC Enter the bierhall, aka biergarten, aka beer garden. Rather than the pub style with a central bar and scattered tables, a beer garden is built around long communal tables where people gather to drink—well—beer, accompanied (almost by default) by salty, savory hand foods like pretzels and sausages. It’s a fun style and an old tradition often associated with lederhosen, dirndls and Oktoberfest. But it’s actually an everyday setup in parts of Eastern Europe. The catch: this style requires space and is often outdoors—two things New York isn’t exactly known for. But, surprise: the city actually has a lot of bierhalls. And we’re not talking about watered-down versions (though those exist and can be fun). We mean the full experience, transported largely intact to our shores—sausages included. So here’s a list of the best bierhalls and beer gardens in New York. Some are attached to breweries, some lean American, others reinterpret the format—and a few feel straight out of a Czech village.

NYC's Japanese restaurant landscape is rich with ever-growing, ramen, izakaya and Michelin-starred sushi destinations, among many other offerings. The best include casual affairs, grand experiences and some that split the difference. Whatever your preference, these are the finest options for all of that and more right now.  RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants in NYC to book right now added this para, do you want to give it a look over before i make it live? Updated March 2026: Narrowing down the best Japanese restaurants in NYC is a little like narrowing down the best American restaurants. Or the best Italian. Or best anything. Meaning there is so much nuance, technique and variety to be considered. And so we tried our best to include a little of everything. We started with New York's love of omakase and sushi by adding Sushi Nakazawa and Sushi Noz to the list. Since we are still in the thick of a good ol' fashioned New York chill, we updated our entry for Nakumura after a recent visit. As more styles emerged on the scene, we paid them a visit, and they too ended up on our list, including kaiseki restaurant Muku and French–Japanese restaurant Restaurant Yuu. But it isn't all fine dining, as we added our go-to midtown favorite, Katagiri Japanese Grocery, to this list. We removed Japan Village, Hi-Collar, Masa and Nami Nori. We also removed Sushi Ginza Onodera and Shuko as they closed. We also removed 69 Leonard Street as it is temporarily closed due to a fire.

New York City is a melange of people from just about everywhere, but deep down, near the core of its cultural roots, are the Irish. But the Irish are not a monolith. For proof, look no further than the landscape of Irish pubs in New York City. Dives, cafes, cocktail bars ball fly the Irish flag. This means more than Irish ownership, though that obviously helps. Many places calling themselves Irish pubs are little more than generic sports bars. Is that what you really want or do you want the craic? Below you’ll find some of New York’s best Irish bars spanning a diversity of tastes. At any and all the bartender pulls a proper pint of Guinness. RECOMMENDED: See the full St. Patrick's Day in NYC guide Updated February 2026: This list also now includes entries for each of the five boroughs. Irish expats were polled for their opinions regarding that real Irish feel. I myself am not even a little Irish, but being pale and red results in my being mistaken for it often, everywhere I go, including IN Ireland. Needless to say, I have always felt welcome in Irish bars. And I like Guinness and boiled meat and all that brown sauce, so it cuts both ways. Anyway, when I say something feels Irish, I can only refer to my affectionate but limited firsthand impression of the place.

If you haven’t met a New Yorker and therefore haven’t heard the spiel, here it is: Times Square is the worst, and there is virtually no reason to go. No, seriously. Without even trying, you could spend a lifetime eating and drinking in Manhattan without ever crossing Times Square’s glowing threshold (roughly Broadway from 42nd to 48th Streets, though, like neon light, the edges blur). Akin to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, The Alamo, Bourbon Street, Times Square is a tourist magnet whose significance and/or appeal is wildly overrepresented in media. But unlike the aforementioned attractions, New York’s onetime nexus of lasciviousness and vice has been entirely scrubbed of its own history. And we’re not just saying all of this for jaded New Yawka points—we don’t need them. RECOMMENDED: The best bars in New York The place is uncomfortably crowded, offers nothing you can’t find elsewhere in the city (besides certain theaters, chain restaurants, and hustlers dressed like Minnie Mouse); and the advertisements, while thrillingly large and flashy, are nothing more than corporations asserting their right to purchase your attention IRL. At least, ads on the subway are likely to feature hilarious graffiti. All of that said, if you are dead-set on going to Times Square or have tickets to a show or something, you will, no doubt, want a drink or four afterward. To that end, we’ve compiled a list of the best bars near Times Square in which you’ll want to do just that.  Updated February 2026:

There are times when a person just wants the best of things and will settle for no less. Then there’s the rest of the time. NYC dive bars are for the latter—there’s no occasion or circumstance into which they fit, which makes them perfect for any and every. What makes a dive a dive? 1. String lights, 2. A vague to nonexistent menu, 3. Graffitied bathroom, 4. Some degree of shabbiness, 5. The bartenders’ main concern isn’t guests’ experience so much as supplying people with what they need. That might be a sympathetic ear, pristine cocktail, round at lightning speed, unequivocal 86, shot on the house; a reality, ego, or privilege-check. RECOMMENDED: The best bars in NYC And don’t think that just because there are dusty bottles against the mirror and tattered dollars taped to the register and names carved in the table that a dive isn’t worthy of respect. They have been the setting for untold numbers of revelations, stories, fateful encounters that change lives—experiences you just can’t have in more buttoned-up or toned-down rooms. There’s a reason fancy chefs and mixologists tend to retreat to their local dive after keeping it classy all day. Just saying. Updated February 2026: It was really tough to keep this list to 15, but we decided to strictly delineate between pubs, neighborhood bars, and dives–all three worthy and wonderful, but not truly synonymous. Legendary places like Rudy’s, Sunny’s, Montero, Lucky 13, Skinny Dennis, Duff’s—all toe the dive line but ultimately fall

Name recognition and lore will always attract a certain number of people to “iconic” restaurants, but do long lines and waiting lists and wall-to-wall reservations mean that they’re worth going to? To call a restaurant “iconic” means that it’s more than just a place to eat—it’s a symbol for tradition, its respective niche, and maybe most importantly, the city itself. But ask any New Yorker and they’ll tell you: many “iconic” restaurants coast on hype and reputation. So what should you look for when you want to have a great experience at a supposedly “iconic” New York restaurant? We’ve boiled it down to three criteria: consistent quality, value for time and/or money, and, in the absence of a single-star dish, an overall experience that’s emblematic of something larger—a neighborhood, a cuisine, a style. Maybe you’re visiting. Maybe you’re a newcomer. Maybe you’ve lived here for years and haven’t gone to any place you’ve heard about because you’re afraid it would hurt your cred. Well, take this as permission. Every place below is worth a visit at least once.Updated January 2026: Searching our souls, it didn’t really feel right to recommend places whose line is prohibitively long and you’ve probably heard of anyway. We’ve also swapped out any places that are only worth the visit to tick off a box on a list–whatever else they may be, every place on here serves delicious food. Finally, we swapped out some overhyped spots in order to highlight different cultures and cuisines–what m

Your out-of-towner friend wants “something cool,” your date wants ambiance, and you want some local-insider-knowledge cred—NYC speakeasy time. Sure, the trend peaked years ago, when people were wearing suspenders and waxing mustaches and riding fixed-gear bikes for some ungodly reason. Back then, pretensions ran high. But today, it’s all way less serious. The idea works a little better now, tends to be handled with more self-awareness and less self-righteousness. And look: there are no speakeasies. And nothing is truly secret in New York. I mean, you’re reading this. Still, some places effectively toy with the “speakeasy” concept and manage to pull it off, and that’s what we’re here to run down. RECOMMENDED: The best bars in NYC right now There are plenty of bars with unmarked entrances—ones that feel “secret,” not because they’re perpetrating a deliberate trick but just because they’re down a staircase or off a subway platform. Some of these are my favorite bars, places I’m always happy to highlight. But being hard to find does not a speakeasy make. We’ve tried to stick with separating the inconspicuous from places that truly perform a bit of sleight-of-hand. Updated January 5, 2026: Since we last toured the speakeasy-ish landscape, a few doors have quietly shut and a few new ones have flung wide open. We’re missing standout bars like Nothing Really Matters and Angel Share in this go-around, yes. But we had some tough choices to make if we were to bring you real variety and

If you look closely behind the counter of NY Pizza Suprema, you'll see a framed clipping from Slice Harvester, a now-abandoned but perennially informative blog run by Cookie Hagendorf, one of the first of their kind: a sort of OG food influencer, if you will. They took it upon themselves to work their way through every single slice shop in Manhattan. They didn't do it for likes; there was no neat way to quantify, let alone monetize, engagement back then anyway. It was a labor of love. Their site is how I first learned about NY Pizza Suprema; out of the hundreds of slice shops Cookie visited between 2009 and 2016, it was the only place to get a perfect score. NY Pizza Suprema has held the same storefront on 8th Avenue since 1964. It's been family-owned and run the whole time. But with its corny name spelled out in cartoonish lettering on the storefront, one could be forgiven for thinking this midtown joint is just another of the city's ignorable money-laundering operations or Sbarro-esque tourist traps. There's no host, no line out the door, no in-house milling of heritage flour on a traditional donkey-driven millstone. It’s everything it needs to be, nothing more. The basics are where this place shines. Plain, white, square, Margherita, grandma—you get it. On the slices, the crust is thin but sturdy; you can fold it cleanly. It won't droop, won't shatter. That means there's perfect gluten development, a balance of yield and chew. The bottom picks up just enough leoparding to

There's a certain anxiety one feels when a new business moves into an iconic storefront and leaves the edifice intact. You can still see the sign for Rocco's, an easygoing neighborhood Italian joint, beneath the glowing Carbone sign. Gage & Tollner spruced up its gilded-age exterior despite a complete overhaul. The practice implies neighborhood continuity but inherently invites skepticism: is the place trying to cash in on existing good will? Luckily, Park Slope's Mash Inn Beer Counter is the best possible case: a brand new business that blends right in, brings real value to the neighborhood, and respects a beloved aesthetic. The long-vacant laundromat on the corner of 13th St and 8th Ave has been delightfully out of place for decades, a mid-century pseudo-Googie portal to the 1950s. Its red diamonds and stamped tin and stacked stones are not a reference to but relic of days gone. Upon moving into the space, the folks behind Prospect Heights' Gold Star Beer Counter decided to keep everything as is with the exception of a flipped letter. "W" in "Wash" became "M" in "Mash." It's a smart move that signals the team is asserting rather than inviting. The old world ends at the storefront. Inside is a handsome, minimalist, bright buildout with a good amount of seating and a long, flat plane of a bar. Lots of panels and straight lines, a record player and featured vinyl spinning. This isn't a dingy hole-in-the-wall with dusky corners; it's a bright space where drinking on a weekend a

It's hard to imagine a less likely location for a vibey cocktail bar than this corner of 6th Avenue in South Slope. The (excellent) pizza place across the street has an almost-exclusively Rat Pack soundtrack, the ramen place next door looks a tad lost, the bodega at kitty-corner pretends to zero polish. But where one would expect a neighborhood joint to play it safe—TV, a few craft beers, fried bits in baskets—Folk makes a bold play: upmarket cocktails and Indian-ish small plates that would be at home on the Lower East Side or Williamsburg. Married chef/owner/designer couple Jay Kumar and Daria Greene were clearly dreaming big when they landed in this small space. Folk is little sister to 7th Avenue's excellent Lore. Folk, Lore. Get it? I didn't; it had to be pointed out to me. The room is cozy, lowkey, uncluttered—it’s a strong choice for a date. Confidence carries from concept through design. Bespoke craftsmanship is everywhere: tile mosaic at the threshold, the impressive bar—a single, seamless slab of white marble evidently cut for this buildout. Running parallel, a series of tables in matching marble is attended by custom bench seating. Taken together, it’s a planted flag.  The cocktail menu is approachable with plenty of inventive flourishes and fun touches. There are three negronis on draft, but the à la minute cocktails are what this place is really selling. The Vale of Cashmere (gin, Empirical Soka, celery, yogurt, lime) plays tartness against floral notes. The Mango

For a good while, Red Hook Tavern was the spot. You couldn’t get a table and the burger was all anyone talked about. Depending on who you asked in South Brooklyn's insular enclave, it was either a yuppie gentrification magnet or an entree to chic cultural relevance. Now that the frenzy has cooled, it's free to be neither and settle into what it actually is: an attractive pub-adjacent room with nice cocktails and elevated tavern fare. Tavern Next Door, its cocktail-focused annex, plays in a different register, offering a more gettable table and a streamlined menu. The vibe at Tavern Next Door is more intimate than its next-door neighbor, better suited to a date night. The cocktails, all riffs on classics, are well-executed but so subtle that you might not clock them as riffs at all. The House Dirty Martini (my preference is gin) nailed the brief: dirty, not filthy, dry, blue cheese olive. The Blue Hawaii was similarly solid, if a touch heavy-handed with the garnish–a whole bouquet of mint. The Tequila Sunrise threw the biggest curveball with a warm-spice finish I'd guess came from the house-made grenadine. All were tasty, went down easy. All were worth ordering, none stole the show. The food menu is shorter and more streamlined than the Tavern proper, with a narrower range. The focus, again, is on the drinks. Fried artichoke poppers were solid: crunchy exterior, tender artichoke, a smear of pimento cheese. The bucatini with clams was as advertised, the clam liquor doing the pe

Bark is the product of a remarkable journey: Pitmaster Ruben Santana began smoking meats during the pandemic, and a pop-up couldn’t keep pace with demand for his Dominican-inflected Texas barbecue for long. After a stint at Time Out Market, he's opened his first brick-and-mortar: a huge, spiffy new hall in Bushwick, already swarmed with curious diners. And that makes sense because–and I don’t say this lightly–Bark is quite possibly the best barbecue in New York City. The place is big, with two levels of communal tables, a mix of high and low-tops. The room is, like many other barbecue joints, soaring with an almost industrial scale. The place has an easy-to-understand, convenient layout. And there seems to be a high ratio of staff to guests, so cordial, helpful guidance or assistance is never far. The place hums with efficiency.There’s a bar, but they don’t serve liquor–only beer and wine and some soju cocktails. The selections aren’t expansive, but that’s not why you’re here, and they get the job done just fine. I would never make a claim that New York’s barbecue compares to Texas’ for the same reason that a Texan’s claims about bagels would fall on deaf ears. But Mr. Santana obviates comparison with a deft move: blending Texas barbecue with Dominican gastronomy. The two, it turns out, have a beautiful affinity. Rice and beans soak up sauce wonderfully, and maduros (plantains) offer a similar starchy sweet element as cornbread. As far as typical sides go, they’re top-notch.

Beto’s is a cheery little spot on the LES serving Mexico City street-style tacos, sandwiches, and stews. It’s a friendly little place with a charming owner whose passion is evident from the way he works the station and chats with guests about his passion and work. The buildout is narrow but classy, more midcentury modern than Mexican mercado. But the food here isn’t trussed-up or affected. This is simple Mexican food with a ton of flavor per square inch. This particular stretch of Clinton Street is dense with businesses and people; it’s easy to miss Beto’s if you aren’t destined for it in the first place. The front has a stand-up taco counter for those on the move. There are a few tables in the back and a bar reminiscent of the kind you’ll find in a ramen ya. If Beto’s is busy, the place can get packed out and sweaty. And if you show up on a Friday or Saturday near close at 10pm, that’s how you’ll find it. But make a trip during the week, especially outside of lunch hours, and you’ll have no problem. The braised meats come in a few enticing varieties. The carnitas are fatty and meaty, the perfect platform for salsa. The chicken in mole verde has satisfying chew and that beautiful mole complexity, tart and intense. You can get them and all of the other proteins (also mushrooms) in different forms and these can be tailored to suit your appetite. The tacos are a convenient, quick platform served on house-made tortillas. Fixed up with salsa at the tables, these can be dialed in a

Mable's Smokehouse is a slightly campy but genuinely accomplished Oklahoma-style smokehouse in Williamsburg, and if you can't appreciate its clear homage to a certain type of roadside joint, you're probably a sourpuss. It's a fun departure, a little portal to a Country Bears version of the heartland where people genuinely aren't creepy when they call you sugah or darlin'. The place was a labor of Love (literally): owners Jeff Lutonsky and Meghan Love were two white-collar-ish former New York City professionals before any of this began. Lutonsky, recalling recipes from his Oklahoma youth, started hosting backyard barbecues that grew bigger and rowdier over time, generating enough excitement among friends that the couple eventually decided to take the whole thing full-time. The rest, as they say, is history, and more than a decade later Mable's is still slinging it out near the Brooklyn Brewery. Oklahoma barbecue sits somewhere between Texas and Kansas City style, and Mable's plays that middle ground well. The meats are smoked over oak, the sauces tend less sweet, and the brisket in particular is a standout, with a sturdy, dark bark and a nice smoke ring. It's also great to see kielbasa on the menu; Oklahoma joints traditionally offer fried bologna, but swapping in a sturdier sausage is a smart, welcome upgrade that shows Mabel’s understands its audience. Don’t leave without eating a Frito Pie. If you've never had the pleasure, this is a ridiculous, wonderful dish in which a ba

Dinosaur is a mini-chain hailing from Rochester, New York, with a homespun, upstate-roadhouse vibe and a welcoming atmosphere. They've got a nice drink program and a big food menu with a lot of options. As far as barbecue proper goes, they do a few things extraordinarily well. If you're craving brisket or ribs or barbecue chicken and nothing else will satisfy, you can get that here, and they'll do the job. But sandwiches are really where you should look. The pulled pork is good on its own but practically begs for their house sauce—slap that on a soft potato bun with pickles and you're happy. It comes in two other varietals worth knowing: the Memphis style (my choice) is the standard sandwich plus a heap of coleslaw, whose vinegary pop, moisture, and crunch do a lot of good work. The Cuban is delicious too, though it veers away from barbecue territory entirely—saucier pulled pork, ham, swiss, and horseradish mustard piled on a long roll. The room is lively, the servers are efficient and friendly, and the vibes are decidedly fun. This isn't the place for a specifically gastronomic outing. But you’ll enjoy your food and your time if you’re not expecting to have your socks blown off. Dinosaur is a great choice when you've got a crowd with varying tastes, vegetarians included. It's the place to spend time with good company over some tasty food, dependable and crowd-pleasing rather than transcendent.

In NYC, we pride ourselves on amalgamating the world; we're home to people and cultures from just about everywhere. Our culinary scene reflects that cosmopolitanism, providing ready access to nearly any cuisine. For longtime residents, it's always been a little odd that there wasn't much good barbecue to be had. That's the breach Hometown Barbecue stepped into. Rather than presenting a trussed-up or gentrified version of barbecue, Hometown kept it simple. That’s the way barbecue should be. Setting down roots in a big, unfussy space in Red Hook, Brooklyn, the restaurant evokes the joints you'd find in more rustic, less metropolitan locales. It doesn't exactly feel transportative, but they aren't pretending to be anywhere else, and they're not selling you an identity. But there aren't many spaces in the city that feel quite like this. There are smaller tables for more intimate situations and bigger picnic tables for bigger parties. There's a bar where you can get beers and cocktails. It's pseudo-cafeteria style: you order at a counter and receive a tray with your food plopped on butcher paper. That's just fine. The food is really what it's all about here. The brisket is juicy, fatty, smoky, with a nice, sturdy bark. The pulled pork is unctuous without being greasy. The ribs pull cleanly and satisfyingly away from the bone. This is barbecue—good barbecue, not some compromised approximation. The New York City inflection shows up in the menu's variety: you can get chicken, slab ba

When I was growing up, a trip to Katz's with my dad wasn't an occasion so different than visiting a grandparent; there was a strange, arcane way we had to observe that was clearly the product of another time. And spending the time was rewarded with a real treat, something that felt comforting and maybe a little overwhelming. Back then, there was liable to be a line, but it was never very long, so it was, without question, worth it. Today, the place hasn't changed, but the feeling has. Waiting on a line that stretches down the block is part of the experience, and at every table you'll see tourists more preoccupied with taking photos of the food than enjoying it. I can't begrudge them that–there's no place like Katz's. But the hype now affects the actual experience one has there, which is a funny thing. It doesn’t make the food any less delicious.Katz's sign reads: Katz's that's all! Because at one time it advertised itself as Katz's kosher deli, except it wasn't actually kosher and there was outcry, so they changed the sign. It's just Katz's, that's all. If you're visiting, it's probably on your list. That makes sense: if you've never eaten at Katz's, you want to. The sandwiches are huge, insanely good, and the place is–and I don't use this word lightly–iconic. Mind that the efficiency you're supposed to observe navigating NYC’s streets goes triple here: know what you want by the time it's your turn, and keep things moving. Keep your ticket. Do not lose your ticket. And when t

Barney Greengrass opened in 1908. Think about that math for a moment as you step inside and realize that probably nothing has changed in the intervening years. As iconic as the place is, it's a tad shabby. That's not to say it's dirty—it's not. But compared to some of its contemporaries, the place does show the wear of time and the stubbornness of its adherence to the "if it ain't broke" philosophy. But by the same token, there's a real and palpable charm to the room. And when you’re inside, there's a specific feel that goes beyond the superficial. "All that glitters" and all of that. If you're here and have no interest in smoked fish, you're going to be paying a whole bunch of money for eggs. That would be a real waste. Show up ready for sturgeon, sable, nova, lox, whitefish-all of that stuff that murders your breath but feeds your soul. Make no mistake: you'll get your eggs cooked perfectly, but don't get them without that smoked-fish addition. You’ll forget allll about bacon. Lox, eggs, and onions are a classic, and you can’t go wrong. But you could also go the sandwich route, sturgeon or sable on rye with lettuce, onion, tomato, and mayo. Old-timers who've earned preferential treatment rub elbows with stroller-pushing Nouveau Yorkers. It gets crowded. If you're smart, you'll send an advance party to scout a table. Or you can show up during the week, when it's easy to just sit and have a meal. It’s cash only, and they’re closed Mondays, and there are no reservations, so be

The original East Village location was a stone-cold classic. It moved in 2006 and, despite some apprehension, we've found it hasn't missed a beat. 2nd Avenue Deli feels exactly the way a deli should: unpretentious and homey and a little cramped, with a big deli case, locals who look like they've been eating here since Moses was in short pants. You can come here for any kind of meal, whether it’s a casual nosh or a big occasion. Yeah, it’s pretty casual, but people can, will, and do celebrate milestones here. Compared to its closest Anglo-analog, the diner, it feels special. It’s pricey, yes. But unlike a diner, you're engaging a long tradition of cuisine that you'd be hard-pressed to find outside of New York City. The chopped liver is moussey and light, the pastrami is fatty without being gummy, each table still gets fixed with pickles; they come in half and full-sour for your pleasure. There's a second location further uptown on the Upper East Side. And above that one, they've got a cute little cocktail bar called 2nd Floor Bar & Essen. But that’s not what we’re talking about here and if you're trying to go for the real-deli-deal, it doesn't get much realer than this.The place is the quintessential New York deli, with pastrami, kishkas, kasha varnishkes—a grain and pasta salad. They don't toast bread; they don't serve cheese. Don't ask. Outside of that, the world’s your oyster—er, I mean, Matzoh ball.Whenever I go, I get a tongue sandwich with a lot of mustard, pickles, a ro

Lei is a small, pretty wine bar tucked into Doyers St, Chinatown's elbow-shaped, pedestrian-only stretch of storefronts. Owner Annie Shi built it as her first solo project after co-owning King and Jupiter, and the concept is straightforward: a well-stocked cellar in a vibey nook, plus a short food menu from chef Patty Lee, previously of Mission Chinese Food. Pairing wine with Chinese flavors in the heart of Chinatown’s warren of restaurants and storefronts feels like a sharp calculation, and Lei executes with easy confidence. The room measures 700 square feet and seats 28, most of them ringing the perimeter; a communal table at the center handles bigger parties, up to eight. There's not an inch to spare, but the room doesn't feel cramped. This is what a properly intimate restaurant feels like, lighting tuned to pull focus toward the tables and away from the serving lanes. Staff outnumber what a room this size usually rates, and they move like a single organism: I watched someone turn to greet a walk-in mid-bus, holding a plate behind their back, passing it off to a coworker without a word. Recommendations and explanations come without the stiff recitation that usually accompanies them, giving the place warmth. Photograph: Matt RussellLei The wine list is extensive but not overwhelming. There’s a full list plus a short by-the-glass menu. Burgundy and Champagne, German and Basque whites and, further out, a low-intervention Chinese Cabernet. Shi curates it herself in concert w

You’re out with friends at a bar, club or venue. Everyone’s having fun—drinking, happy. Out of nowhere, the bartender catches an attitude. They were all smiles before; now they’re snippy, serving your drinks with a sigh and an eye roll, maybe ignoring you completely. What the hell is their problem? You. If this sounds familiar, and if it's happened more than once, I'm sorry to say that you, my friend, are THAT person in the bar: The jerk whose behavior kills the vibe, doesn't realize they're embarrassing themselves, and makes everyone breathe easier once they're out the door. RECOMMENDED: The best bars in NYC The good news is that becoming the type of customer bartenders love is easy. More than that, it pays dividends: you'll get served faster, the bartender will make you seem cool in front of your friends, and you could get a drink or two for free. Being well-liked by bartenders makes life way easier. Who am I to make prescriptions? I worked as a full-time bartender in NYC for over a decade. Neighborhood spots, high-volume theme bars, cocktail hideaways, bumping clubs, festivals, private parties, venues—there's almost nothing I haven't dealt with or seen. Below, five signs you're being THAT person in the bar, including things to be aware of and ways you might correct them.  Keep in mind that this is aimed specifically at people going to bars in New York City, but it's good advice for visiting U.S. bars in general.  Don’t be desperate Snapping, clapping, whistling, or shoutin

In partnership with Marx Realty, PDT veteran Jeff Bell just opened Highball Ltd.—a pretty little bar meant to evoke “the golden age of luxury train travel.” But don’t mistake Highball Ltd. for a place you should build plans around: it is, in essence, an office building cosplaying as a cocktail bar.Despite its thematically appropriate address at 10 Grand Central, Highball Ltd. is not housed in the same structure as the train hall. The entrance is actually on Third Avenue between 44th and 45th, the service entrance of an office building. The bar isn't hidden per se: there's a red light, a plaque, a guy stationed on the door checking reservations on an iPad—if you’re not led astray by the street address, it’s not hard to find. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Time Out New York (@timeoutnewyork) RECOMMENDED: The best restaurants in NYC's midtown Manhattan Invoking “speakeasy” was a PR solve when the decision was made to open this bar to the public. Highball Ltd is, in reality, one quadrant of The Meeting Galleries, a larger planned set of “hospitality-inspired” amenities for people who work in the building. Think a stylized set of connected spaces where managers can host meetings, screenings, holiday parties, etc.  Credit where it’s due: the design and decor are all well realized, very pretty and way more interesting than any office I’ve ever set foot in. But make no mistake: Highball Ltd is, quite evidently, a part of an office. Inside, you’ll find p

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