Julien Levy

Here we are, at the season when the worlds of the living and the dead overlap. And what better way to appreciate a trip to the undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler returns than embracing the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? In other words: we’re celebrating the spooky season by eating and drinking in haunted environs. And let’s make a quick distinction: we’re talking about ACTUAL history, not places with spooky decor. RECOMMENDED: The most haunted places in NYCYou walk into a 200-year-old basement and hit a sudden, icy pocket of air. You hear a floorboard creak behind you. You see something move just at the corner of your eye. Is it your sympathetic nervous system kicking into gear, dilating your pupils and making your skin more sensitive to evaporative cooling? No. You’re experiencing a haunting, an otherworldly presence, a g-g-g-ghost. NOT reacting to the low-frequency infrasound humming out of an aging HVAC unit. Some things simply can’t be explained, especially when you, like Fox Mulder, want to believe. Lucky you: we’ve got a list of the most haunted restaurants and bars in New York City.Updated 2026: Everybody from last year rises once more (never mind that they were open year-round) to send shivers down your spine and victuals down your gullet. A few corrections: Dylan Thomas didn’t collapse IN the White House, but later on; and the building housing One If By Land, Two If By Sea wasn’t ever owned by famous Hamilton-hater Aaron Burr. Additionally,

Who doesn’t want to escape from reality now and then? Theme bars offer the perfect way to step into a different world, change the vibe, and get caught up in something. Maybe you’ve got a niche interest, maybe you’re down to just do something a little different. You don’t have to have a reason to check out a theme bar, just a willingness and, more often than not, a sense of whimsy. We’ve assembled a wide swath of the best theme bars in New York City. Some are theme-ier than others; some places have staff in costume, and the drinks reflect the motif in more than just the name; others are just dive bars with a hat on. At any and all of them, you can have a great time admiring the decor while you cultivate a buzz. Updated fall 2026: Since the last time we ran these down, we’ve tried to keep the focus on places that aren’t just cool or good bars—all of which the following are—but places that have a specific theme identifiable enough to make the experience singular. Yes, there are a few tiki places on this list, but we’ve got a big range from fancy cocktails to dive bars–the experience at one is extremely distinct from another. And we’ve kept it to places that are primarily bars; a few themed restaurants have bars, but they are their own thing. RECOMMENDED: Full guide to the best restaurants in NYC

The thing about natural wine bars is that they're, really, just bars. Shocking, yes. But not if you think about it. There's less separating them from your neighborhood joint than what separates a rooftop cocktail bar from a subterranean dive bar. The point is, you don't need to be intimidated by the idea of a wine bar because, just like those other places, if you walk in with an open mind and a willingness to meet a place halfway, you're almost certain to find something for you. And that's especially easy at natural wine bars, which are just wine bars with added intentionality. What makes one wine natural and one not? There's no legal certification or definition, but the general idea is minimal interference: grapes grown organically or biodynamically; fermentation left to wild, native yeasts instead of a lab-cultured strain; and little to no added sulfur, fining, or filtration once the juice hits the tank. The result is sometimes cloudy, sometimes a little funky, and almost always more alive-tasting than its conventional counterpart. The pitch is, at the very least, interesting. But after sipping a few different varietals, the appealing differentiation from the gravy-thick, mouth-coating table wine you're used to will be obvious. So if you're here because you already know that you love wine and you want to venture to new places, or you want to get to know wine but don't know where to start, or you've got a date coming up and you want to impress, you're in luck: we've got a

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 September 2026: There is a certain chill in the air already, isn't there? Now that we've officially flipped our c

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:

Shania’s Max Bet is an Atlantic City/Shania Twain-themed bar occupying the former Dirty Precious space on 3rd Avenue. It tends closer to homage and evocation than outright theme, but the vision is clear and consistent enough that it stands out and calls attention to itself–hence its inclusion here. It’s just a fun bar in a great space with a ton of spirit–a place that seems to encourage the kind of abandon one must have when rolling the dice. Fire-engine-red banquettes line the walls under a mirrored disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Look closely to see the space beneath the bar entombing thousands of dice in resin. The bartenders encourage a good time, keeping the party buzzing with draft Midori sours and amaro espresso martinis. The owners are harkening back to the '80s, to AC trips, to a time when the bar scene in this part of Brooklyn was actually vibrant and fun. To that end, it stays open until 4am every night of the week, serving $10 beer-and-shot combos alongside natural wine long after the rest of the neighborhood shuts down. 

Trailer Park Lounge serves as a tribute to midcentury roadside junk. Twenty-third Street doesn’t exactly scream “Americana,” but its being out of place is, in a lot of ways, the point. A row of bowling alley seats faces a wall plastered with Elvis memorabilia and there are mannequins posed in compromised states. The bar is trash-themed. Not literally garbage, but kitsch, camp; the tragically ludicrous/ludicrously tragic. The unique American pride in being low-rent. It’s a glorious mess. The garage sale aesthetic doesn't distract from the core objective: inexpensive, unfussy drinks and greasy-spoon eats. The kitchen pumps out burgers and tater tots and the like while bartenders pour oversized pitchers of frozen margaritas laced with cheap tequila. The diner booth seating, the smell of hot fryer oil, the rockabilly soundtrack–it all makes good sense after a few. It gets busy on weekends for amateur hour, but that’s the nature of going out in Chelsea. The salty bartenders have seen it all and know exactly how to handle it–a comfort in these trying times. If you’re in the neighborhood and don’t feel like shelling out big bucks for an evening, park yourself at Trailer Park.

Otto's Shrunken Head is the convergence of punk, rockabilly, Tiki and dive. The space features leopard-print booths and glowing pufferfish lamps hanging from the ceiling, and inexpensive drinks. Check, check, check. You can check out their live programming like a comedy show or a trio of hep cats playing Johnny Burnett tunes. Or you could just ignore everything and focus on your drink. The Polynesian decor isn’t exactly a novelty as far as Tiki goes, but the campy effect is compounded by the fact that it’s on 14th Street. Beneath the decor, this room functions as a downtown dive. The theme, if you really get down to it, is being a little beat up but having good taste and knowing what a good time looks like. The bartenders have suitable New York bartender attitudes that reinforce the vibe; to get in their good graces means you’ve got swagger, a heart of gold, or both. Strong rum punches and fruity concoctions abound. Hand over a cash deposit for a ceramic novelty cup shaped like a skull, a shark, a tiki head. Or just knock back cheap beer and a shot or two. 

Skinny Dennis has been a fixture of Williamsburg’s scene since 2013, celebrating the aspects of Americana worth celebrating and offering anyone with a taste for twang a place to get it. It's sort of Nashville cosplay, but not one of the bars on that city's Broadway; think East Nashville, where you aren't being sold an identity. Drive-By Truckers as opposed to Garth Brooks. You’ll crunch peanut shells underfoot and marvel at a black velvet painting of Willie Nelson on the wall. The decor pushes the honky-tonk angle, but nothing blares louder than the fact of the place: it’s a dive bar with an affinity, a cheap watering hole for people who don’t want to hear The Talking Heads every time they land on a barstool. You don’t have to be a country/western fan to drink here, but it helps. The place isn’t huge, but it has enough seating for a modestly sized party. The signature (aside from live music three nights a week) is the coffee drink that comes in the classic blue paper Greek deli cup—a bourbon-spiked coffee slushy that packs a punch. Taxidermy and vintage beer signs blur in the background while you focus on well shots and cans of beer.

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 staf

Working-class and natural wine bar aren't two terms that seem like they fit. But then again, there's a lot about The Ten Bells that feels just slightly askew, in the best way. In a scene that can get awfully precious, The Ten Bells (with a newer second outpost in Bushwick) has built its reputation on the opposite instinct: offering quality without pretension, an eye kept firmly on what they are, in fact, doing: serving the Lower East Side an intoxicant whose main purpose is enjoyment. The wine list is anchored to small-scale, unglamorous producers, tipping deliberately into terroirs the bigger power players tend to overlook. That feels more like a statement about where our biases lead us than about wine itself. Whereas a power player focused on France or Italy is a superhighway, The Ten Bells feels like a desire path—more interesting, leading you somewhere worth the moment or two of uncertainty. Its name is borrowed from a bar in London's Spitalfields, one with an infamous connection to the Jack the Ripper murders. What exactly inspired that choice remains a bit of a mystery. Whatever the reasoning, the place itself isn't dark in a themed or gloomy way, just moodily lit and unbothered by explaining itself. The room isn't playing at a lowered pretense; it just is: worn in the right places, dim without feeling gloomy. It's the kind of space that photographs better than it probably intends to—that elusive quality we call character. The staff embodies that same quality beautifull

From its name, you might think you were dealing with a punk dive bar. Ruffian isn't exactly the first word one would associate with natural wine, let alone a charming, intimate, considered place like this. Maybe Ruffian is the name of the horse depicted in the prominently displayed painting. Maybe it describes natural wine as compared to its more refined cousin. Maybe it's a descriptor of the place itself: not rough-and-tumble or rowdy, but a mild provocateur, a place that sees what natural wine bars have historically been and calls the idea out, daring an entire paradigm to be different, to play by different rules, to walk its own path, exciting guests with difference. Because that's exactly what Ruffian does so well. This is a genuinely tiny wine bar and chef's table that doesn't signal its game. The place focuses on wine from regions most New Yorkers have never tasted, let alone visited—places you might not have known even grow grapes. Georgia, Slovakia, Ukraine: terroirs across Eastern Europe, each with its own character and history. It's an exciting thing to feel introduced to, almost jarring. Their list runs past 250 natural wines. That's a big number for any bar, let alone one this size. But Ruffian never feels like it's showing off for the hell of it. It feels like the product of a meticulous collector, more jewel box than warehouse. The room itself is cozy but not stuffy. It's casual in a way that somehow still telegraphs how seriously the kitchen and cellar take the

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

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

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

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.

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