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.
September started with the US Open and a visit from my sister and her husband from Miami. On the way to the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center one afternoon, we made a pitstop in Williamsburg for a late lunch at Misipasta. It’s a marketplace and cafe with a lovely backyard by Missy Robbins of Misi and Lilia fame, except you can actually get a reservation or simply walk in and the vibe is so chill. Every bite was transcendent: prosciutto di parma, fontina gougéres, mozzarella in carrozza, an artichoke sandwich, ricotta and pistachio-filled mezzaluna, spaghetti with lemon, bottarga and garlic breadcrumbs and a crazy good chocolate panna cotta. Before hitting the road, it only seemed right to swing by Maison Premiere for absinthe cocktails.
Their visit was a true moveable feast with stops at José Andrés’s Mercado Little Spain in Hudson Yards where we tucked into the tapas bar for gin and tonics, pan con tomate, croquetas (nobody does them better than Andrés) and manchego y jamón Ibérico. The sizzling gambas al ajillo is also excellent. To stay on theme, we eventually wound our way down to the intimate Bar Jamón in Gramercy for sherry and más jamón, which they shave on demand using antique Berkel slicers. Another day started with brunch at Dumbo House and ended with an impromptu nightcap at the original Bubby’s in Tribeca.
Ye Olde Bar
My girlfriend and fellow writer, Cara Cannella, came up with the idea for Old Bar Club, a Sunday afternoon meetup at one of NYC’s historic bars. We inaugurated the club this month at Ear Inn, established in 1817, way west on Spring Street. I had shockingly never been before and took an immediate shine to the place. The bartender was surly and sexy and made me a giant dirty martini full of attitude. Later, for my second round, I opted for a Guinness, trying to prove… I don’t know what. We took our drinks to the sidewalk and laughed and gossiped and soaked up a perfectly sunny and crisp late summer day.
Where will Old Bar Club meet next? Maybe Old Town Bar, maybe this Sunday.
Afterwards, we made our way up the Hudson to Drift In (pictured at top), a waterfront bar and restaurant by the team behind my favorite boat bar Grand Banks, for lobster BLTs, burgers, beer, wine and the sunset.
Wild Nights
There comes a point on certain Saturday nights when a decision must be made: call it, go to bed and cut your losses or double down and see what mischief’s left to be made. This moment came on a recent Saturday night with a friend over cocktails in the West Village at Mace (no. 18 in North America’s 50 Best Bars and under the leadership of barman Nico de Soto who also designed the cocktail program at the newly opened Experimental Cocktail Club in Flatiron). The vibe was just right: dark, sexy, not overcrowded with 90s hip-hop that made you want to bounce. I sipped my “Sakura,” a wild and beautiful concoction of cherry tomato-infused Grey Goose with cherry blossom and coffee liqueur, served up with a gorgeous foamy top and just a hint of candy sweetness—it’s probably the most creative and sophisticated espresso martini in town. And it was decided: we were going to double down.
After a peccadillo that started in Soho and ended in Meatpacking, we were in a cab back uptown and decided to swerve, for the first time, to Silencio, the relatively new NYC installment of the famed Parisian nightclub on 57th and 8th (the location was apparently inspired by the glory days of Studio 54). I deployed my trick, which has never failed me at the door of any French nightclub, and we were granted entry down the stairs to the subterranean club. The scene was bizarre, uncrowded and random. The sleek red-bedecked club I’d seen in photos was not so sleek in person, but the DJ was good and the sound system was loud.
We soon realized Silencio is actually a club-within-a-club and upstairs was a whole other bizarro world with a DJ spinning catchy remixes of pop songs in a cathedral-like setting with a mezzanine. I didn’t know where I was. The Champs Elysée? Bushwick? A Stefon fever dream (there was a juggler in a chapeau with neon glowing balls, an enormous bust of David except with orange hair and glow-in-the-dark stickers on his face and a kid standing next to it that looked just like him, a little person was the doorman, someone was wheeled out on a stretcher, bros were dancing to Madonna)? We had transcended Central Park South and entered a new dimension. And we loved it.
Although, I forgot my top rule of clubbing: never take anything to the club you’re not prepared to lose (which may have only contributed to the night’s epic nature).
Sunday Strolls
The next day, I had errands to run downtown, which took me on a restorative perambulation from Soho to the East Village where I decided I needed a life-saving burrito. I landed at Electric Burrito, lauded for their California-style burritos, which I came to understand as refried bean-forward. It was enormous, almost obscene to eat in public, but it was just what I needed and I sat at the window watching the young and beautiful East Villagers come and go with their takeout, wondering if I should move downtown and live among them.
I cut back towards the West Village and stumbled upon The Donut Pub (est. 1964), exactly what I did not need, but how could I resist a wall lined with a wider variety of donuts than I could ever imagine? By the time I reached Washington Square Park, the sun was beginning to dip and a group of musicians was jamming at the benches, playing the most perfect mellow Sunday music, so I sat down, closed my eyes, felt the sun on my face and thought, how lucky am I to live in New York City. When the sun had set, I continued walking west through the park where a jazz saxophonist was playing one last song, seemingly just for me, as the rest of his trio packed up their instruments in the gathering dusk.
On Broadway
Is there a better name than Jez Butterworth? It sounds like a name I would have made up as a little girl (Frosty Skinnah was the name I picked out for my future husband, which may be one of the reasons I’m still not married). But Jez Butterworth is not imaginary; he’s a real English playwright who won the Tony for The Ferryman in 2019 and also helped pen the screenplay for a Daniel Craig Bond film. I became a fan a decade ago when I saw The River starring Hugh Jackman at the intimate Circle in the Square Theatre. A haunting, lyrical, fraught, mind-bending love story, I drew inspiration from it in writing my short play: A Short Play About a Man I Used to Love.
Often collaborating with director Sam Mendes on both stage and screen, the duo are back on Broadway this season with The Hills of California (through December 22). A family drama in the tradition of Eugene O’Neill, the story centers on four sisters who return to their small seaside hometown in 1970s England to tend to their dying mother and confront a childhood trauma. For added drama and resonance, Butterworth leading lady Laura Donnelly plays both the eldest sister in the present day and the mother in her youth. It’s a masterful drama by one of our great contemporary playwrights and a compelling night of theater well worth catching.
After the show, my friend and I headed across the street for one too many martinis at the bar upstairs at Sardi’s where I proceeded to literally run into Ana Gasteyer (she of former SNL topless Martha Stewart fame and current Once Upon a Mattress star) not once, but twice and we spotted a handsome actor from Jez’s show drinking red wine with who I guessed was his mother. Broadway, baby!
For a great pre-theater dinner if you’re catching a show at The Shed or you’re simply lost in Hudson Yards and don’t know what to do, head to Ci Siamo. A sumptuous and stylish Italian restaurant by Danny Meyer and Chef Hillary Sterling, I like to tuck in at the bar for whatever Italian cocktail strikes my fancy and share a few bites or a feast with a friend. Revelatory can’t-go-wrong order: cast iron focaccia and/or goat gouda gnocco fritto paired with mortadella, insalata verde, rigatoni alla gricia, etc. etc.
UWS Potpourri
You don’t need me to tell you that Daily Provisions makes some of the best breakfast sandwiches in town.
Viand for fast takeout + anything-you’re-craving menu when returning home from travel wiped out and starving.
& Peacefood ftw for emergency green juice.
