You’re reading Best of New York, a monthly recap of the city’s very best restaurants, bars, arts, culture, shopping, etc. etc. It’s not necessarily the latest, greatest, newest, hottest (but those spots find their way in, too); it’s simply the places that made the city sing for us every month that we think you might like, too.
Music & dance on Little Island
Little Island combines so many things I love that I sometimes feel like it must have been commissioned just for me: (a) it’s an island, (b) it’s a perch to soak in the Hudson River’s maritime (and sunset) culture, (c) it’s home to two dreamy, quixotic outdoor performance spaces, (d) it’s adjacent to the Meatpacking (Standard, High Line, Whitney, Pastis) District, (e) it was developed and underwritten by Diane von Furstenberg’s billionaire husband. Overlay all of that with a modernist, yet whimsical design and lush, wild landscape architecture by UK-based Heatherwick Studio in collaboration with New York’s MNLA and I’m in heaven.
It’s no wonder, then, that I keep coming back for their inaugural summer performing arts festival. In July, playwrights Suzan-Lori Parks and Hansol Jung were in conversation in the Glade, a smaller amphitheater and grassy knoll carved into the island’s southern edge, followed by Parks’s band, Sula & the Joyful Noise, an eight-piece ensemble, including a horn section, for a truly joyful, open-hearted and activist performance; a magical evening in the loveliest of settings.
Later in July, New York-based choreographer Pam Tanowitz premiered Day for Night, a gorgeous modern dance piece in the tradition of Martha Graham and Merce Cunningham. Her dancers were strong and athletic in layered mesh-like costumes that highlighted their movement and the lines of their bodies to mesmerizing effect. It was staged in the Amph, Little Island’s main performance space, followed by an epilogue in the Glade where a single dancer (Melissa Toogood) repeated a brief, five-minute or so combination to a hauntingly evocative arrangement of ABBA’s “Lay All Your Love on Me” that left me spellbound. (Spotting Hilton Als, one of my favorite writers and critics, in the audience added to the magic of the evening.)
Little Island is home to a nice concession stand selling beer, wine, hotdogs, sandwiches, etc., but the best way to make an evening of it is to provision at one of two adjacent food halls on your way over. I picked up spicy tuna rolls at Lobster Place at Chelsea Market and chicken taquitos from Mijo at the new Pier 57 for the perfect sunset picnic. The festival runs through September 22 with a handful of premieres still to come, starting this weekend with the Oyster Radio Hour (through August 4), featuring Susan Sarandon, alongside a pop-up oyster market.
In other culture news…
Whitney Biennial
Just go (through August 11). My favorite was Savannah-based artist Suzanne Jackson’s “suspended paintings” made without a canvas by layering acrylic paint for an effect that reminded me of melted crayons and child’s play. My friend and I studied them with a geographic, earth-bound lens as if they were abstract maps. There’s an iridescent, multi-dimensional beauty to her work, reminiscent of Helen Frankenthaler, another formal innovator with her “soak stain” technique on unprimed canvases.
The Who’s Tommy
Fun Fact: I was a member of the ensemble in a college production of Tommy (I played a pinball flipper in a choreographed dance meant to represent pieces of Tommy’s mind, which should give you an idea of the great roles the University of Georgia Drama Department had in mind for me). So I had to catch the Broadway revival of The Who’s rock opera (ended July 21) centered on “that deaf, dumb and blind kid” who “sure plays a mean pinball.” My review, in short: Still weird; still great (and the music, especially if you’re of a certain era, is undeniable). Although, seated in the mezzanine of the Nederlander Theater, it dawned on me that as weird and wild as Tommy is, it actually hews pretty faithfully to one of the most classical story structures: the hero’s journey in the tradition of The Odyssey. Okay, Pete Townshend. (Also, who knew that Michael Cerveris originated the role in 1993?!)
Rafted to a pier in Tribeca
The next best thing to sailing the Hudson River is sipping cocktails on a historic schooner-turned-oyster-bar rafted up on Pier 25 in Tribeca. Grand Banks (pictured at top) is back, celebrating its tenth season of New Yorkers bobbing on a boat, while delighting in lobster rolls, oysters, spritzes, rosé and all manner of maritime-themed cocktails, like my go-to, the “Permanent Vacation” made with a blend of Jamaican rums, blue Curaçao, coconut and pineapple.
It’s conveniently located near a constellation of excellent inland restaurants and on this particularly sweltering summer afternoon, we took refuge in the cool, dark confines of Locanda Verde and devoured sumptuous bowls of Chef Andrew Carmellini’s housemade pasta. I’m still dreaming of the rigatoni lamb bolognese.
Sundays in Soho
One of my great city pleasures is a leisurely Sunday afternoon of shopping, followed by dinner or drinks, solo or with friends. July brought me down to Soho on multiple occasions, where I picked up Glynnis MacNicol’s new Paris memoir, I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself (Penguin Life, June 2024) at McNally Jackson and discovered the adorable Abbode, a cheeky embroidery shop featuring cocktail napkins, cloth coasters, tote bags, tanks and more with embroidered martini glasses, lobsters, NYC taxis, etc., plus the option for full customization and monogramming; great for wedding, engagement or housewarming gifts.
Italian was calling on two separate occasions. One night, it was a late dinner at King, the sophisticated, yet casual Italian-meets-South-of-France eatery by Chefs Clare de Boer and Jess Shadbolt, and managing partner Annie Shi. The menu changes daily and we ordered an elegant green salad, scallops and pasta. Another night, it was an early pizza party at Lucia Alimentari, an offshoot of next door slice shop, but in a chic Italian wine bar setting for whole pies and a wine list as delightful as the pizzas.
Bonus: Saturday Night in Soho
And if you happen to be in Soho on a Saturday night after dinner and want to turn up without the hassle of leaving the neighborhood, La Esquina, a speakeasy-style subterranean lounge obscured by a taqueria front, manages to consistently deliver on a no hassle door, music that makes you want to shimmy and a high likelihood of making out with a stranger.
Rockaway Beach day trip
One of the only ways I survive a New York City summer is with the occasional sojourn to Rockaway Beach. After the hourlong ferry ride from Wall Street, I’ve developed a go-to routine (with a few variations). On a recent Sunday in July, it went something like this:
Stop 1 – The snack bar at Beach 97 where I invariably order a lobster roll from Red Hook Lobster Pound, easily my favorite in the city, and rosé on tap.
Stop 2 – Swim and trance out on the sand.
Stop 3 – Connoly’s where I can never order just one of their famous piña coladas (with a floater) and listen to whatever band is jamming on the front patio.
Stop 4 – Back to the Beach 97 snack bar for coal-fired pizzas to go from Seany for the ferry ride home.
Take Me Out to the Ballgame
Catching a Yankees game is one of my rites of summer in the city. And I recently watched the Bronx Bombers take on the Boston Red Sox at Yankee Stadium with one of my best girlfriends and fellow fan. It also happened to be “Seinfeld Night” where George Costanza bobbleheads were given out to the first however many fans, intersecting passion with passion. (I mean, what’s more New York than the Yankees and Seinfeld?) The Yanks were up the entire game and then crashed and burned in the last play of the ninth inning. I’m usually happy to merely be at the ballpark and cheer on the home team, win or lose, but there was something about the fantastic fashion of this loss that’s irked me.
Recommended Reading: I started my professional life as a New York City public school teacher in the Bronx and I find the borough endlessly fascinating, so I devoured Ian Frazier’s recent New Yorker essay, “Paradise Bronx,” where he retreads historically significant roadways by foot, detailing the borough’s oft-forgotten past, from our Founding Fathers to today. He just published a book by the same name with MacMillan (July 2024).
Mexican Seafood Uptown & Downtown
When the temperatures heat up, so does my craving for crudo and spicy cocktails. Enter two relatively new seafood-centric Mexican restaurants that skew towards fine dining: Quique Crudo in the West Village and El Fish Marisquería on the Upper West Side. The former opened at the beginning of this year by Chef Cosme Aguillar of Long Island City’s long-celebrated Casa Enrique, while the latter arrived in early 2023 from Chef Julian Medina and the Toloache Group.
The walk-in only Quique is centered on an intimate wrap-around bar for sampling Gulf shrimp aguachile, Rhode Island fluke ceviche and crab tostadas, as well as enchiladas “Doña Blanca,” made with roasted poblanos and Oaxacan cheese, and chicken and black bean enmoladas, a spin on Chef Aguillar’s signature mole dish. The tequila- and mezcal-forward cocktail menu is a mile long and I stuck with their take on a spicy marg, the “Aguachile,” made with Gran Centenario Plata tequila and serrano peppers.
The dining room at El Fish has a little more sheen and polish than your average Upper West Side eatery. There’s a pleasingly contemporary dining room, a lively bar and a small oyster bar in the back. I could easily make a meal of their ceviches and tostadas alone (think, toro tuna tartare taquitos, lobster aguachile in peanut butter yuzu), but their entrees are also plenty tempting, like the pan-fried lobster served with pinto beans, Mexican rice and flour tortillas, perfect for two.
Paris Olympics
With the Paris Summer Olympics, it seems only fitting to go to as many French restaurants and sports bars as possible in the next two weeks. Here’s what I’ve managed in the first few days of the Games:
French Restaurants
Essential by Christophe
Essential by Christophe is my friendly Upper West Side Michelin starred restaurant. And while they traffic in three-, four- and seven-course tasting menus (from $165 to $245), it’s become a go-to for impromptu dinners at the bar where you can order à la carte, plus a bar-only burger and Maine lobster penne. The Upper West Side is not exactly a bastion of fine dining, which lends the entire operation a bit of a kooky energy. The name, in and of itself, feels overly serious, self-referential and un-modern, and Christophe will occasionally emerge from the kitchen to glad hand diners and let their adulation wash over him. Because I am a Seinfeld scholar and this is Jerry’s neighborhood, it all feels like something out of an episode, like if Poppie’s restaurant had a Michelin star.
Still, I keep coming back for the truly transcendent dishes, the excellent wine list and one of my favorite martinis in the city—and also, the characters. On a recent visit, the bar was full of them, prompting my friend to pose the question: “When do we become Christophe characters—or are we already?” The answer: “We already are.” As for those transcendent dishes, I order the sea urchin topped with gold Ossetra caviar in cauliflower puree every time; it’s a thing of beauty and every bite literally bursts with flavor. But, then, it’s all pretty incredible: the blue prawns in a dill chive bouillon you can’t help but lap up, plus another dollop of that gold Ossetra; lightly cooked scallops with a tiny stuffed zucchini flower; duck jalapeño mousseline. What can I say? I love Essential by Christophe, kooky characters and all.
Balthazar vs. Pastis
Balthazar and Pastis are two of my favorite New York restaurants. They represent nostalgia and aspiration that goes back to my first stint in the city 20 years ago. At that time, Pastis was in its heyday. I celebrated my 23rd birthday there and would pop in at all hours, while party hopping in the Meatpacking District. Balthazar was already a grand dame by then and felt more grownup, more intimidating. My first experience might have been mustering the courage to dine solo at the bar at lunchtime when I was downtown for jury duty (they give you shockingly long lunch breaks) and chatting with some handsome stranger over a bowl of their bubbling onion soup gratinée.
I visited both in July and both were delightful. But Pastis is currently ahead on my personal leaderboard in every category: food (they make my favorite steak frites au poivre in the city), hospitality, overall energy and vibe. Its only deduction comes from the fact that it’s not the original space and so can never be quite as magical as those glory days. But that caveat is becoming less of an issue as this new iteration continues to come into its own. Today, it feels like a clubhouse for both the still-chic oldies (possibly more chic?) and the adorable young ones enamored by it for the first times, just as we once were.
Sports Bars
Admittedly, sports bars aren’t exactly my forte, but a bar with character, that’s something I’ll always get behind. While technically a bar and grill, I count the Hi Life on the Upper West Side as one of the great dive bars with character—it also happens to be my corner bar. With a martini as part of its iconography, a vintage 1930s roadside diner vibe, a band of hardcore regulars and a mile-long menu that includes hand-rolled sushi and oysters, the place oozes character and conviviality. Admittedly, nothing is very good (except, the nachos are great and the sushi is surprisingly solid). It’s bar food bar food—there’s no “twist,” nothing’s “elevated” and the same can be said of the drinks. Still, it’s the perfect neighborhood spot to tuck into the bar and catch a game, drink a “Drunken Olive” martini and share a plate of pigs in a blanket across a booth from a friend, or take an unsuspecting date for a nightcap when the music is almost always pleasingly nostalgic.
With French and Brazilian flags lining its bistro-like façade and big, open window seating, I thought Félix in Soho would be the perfect destination to catch the Games. Well, look, it was positively overflowing with revelers on a recent Sunday afternoon, which good for them, but I was not about to get involved in that melee. Instead, we headed up West Broadway to Kenn’s Broome Street Bar to watch Simone Biles on the balance beam while drinking beers and Aperol spritzes with a rodeo cowboy on the next stool and the witty bartender.
Dispatch from the Upper West Side
Hoteligence is headquartered on the Upper West Side, so here’s the latest from the neighborhood we call home:
PopUp Bagels
While I talked a big talk in May about the best bagels in New York being the ones closest to your apartment, I recently made the reasonable (seven block) trek to neighborhood newcomer PopUp Bagels and had a life-changing experience. They bake and boil these little babies onsite continuously throughout the day and then serve them fresh and still-hot in orders of no less than three with a little tub of cream cheese meant for dipping (as opposed to spreading). The salt bagel and scallion cream cheese combo was divine. And just like that… I have a new favorite bagel spot—and it’s still close to my apartment.
Sushi Kaito
Since the sushi chefs defected from our old favorite neighborhood spot, my friend and I have been two Upper West Side girls in search of an omakase. Recently, we gave the 12-seat Sushi Kaito a whirl and would happily return for the high quality, creative (and efficient) 17-course affair ($115 per person) with fish sourced from Tokyo’s Toyosu market.
And a couple tasty morsels…
While Moshe’s Falafel appears to have been operating a food truck for as long as I’ve been alive, a brick-and-mortar restaurant on my block has looked eminent for weeks now. It’s unclear whether they’re open for regular business yet, but their truck held court on my street for a few days and, as I returned from a dog walk one afternoon, the nice man behind the counter offered me a free sample by gallantly plucking a falafel ball with his tongs, dipping it in tahini and lowering it down to me on the sidewalk. My hero. And, my God, if it wasn’t the best falafel I’ve ever had; light, fluffy and airy, but with incredible crunch and flavor. I’m definitely ready for Moshe to become a neighborhood staple.
And if Levain is baking up a limited edition ooey-gooey rocky road cookie, I will be swinging by.
