A few moments from the past week reminded me why I love New York. On Friday, I sat in the sun outside a wine bar, next to a greyhound named Snork. (It was her birthday!) On Monday, I made it from Midtown to Fort Greene in 30 minutes (when the M.T.A. works, it’s like magic). And on Tuesday I did the best, most life-affirming thing you can do in this town: walking right into a restaurant, sitting at the bar and having dinner.
I struggle to imagine an occasion when a table is preferable to the bar. A work dinner with someone you don’t know well enough to share dishes with? A painful logistics-ironing lunch with an ex, maybe? For every other scenario, the bar is the best seat in the house.
Here are four places to enjoy dinner at the bar, ideally solo or with one other person (at the bar, three people is pushing it, and four should be illegal):
Bars are for seafood
The folks at Penny know where I’m coming from, because their restaurant in the East Village has no tables at all. It’s just a very long bar with a barely-there kitchen and a pricey-but-worthwhile menu of seafood small plates. The “ice box” is a sampler platter of oysters, clams, shrimp and the like, and is a great excuse to linger for a long time with a glass of wine. For more of a full dinner, throw in the schmaltzy confit oysters, stuffed squid and pillowy sesame brioche.
French classics at a not-so-hidden gem
Every time I utter the name of this restaurant, someone yells at me that I should be gatekeeping it. Too late! I understand the impulse, because as a walk-in-only spot with just nine bar seats and a few (less desirable) tables, Le French Diner can feel like a tough ticket. But show up early-ish, write your name and number on a clipboard passed to you from behind the bar, have a drink nearby and wait for the call, because it will come. There’s a short, unchanging menu of simple dishes like steak tartare, grilled octopus with aioli, hanger steak and a simple, acidic green salad. From your bar perch, you’ll see all the kitchen action, get chummy with your neighbors and feel like you’re anywhere but on Orchard Street.
Good old-fashioned fun
Getting off the L train in Bushwick and being confronted with the Turk’s Inn feels like seeing a mirage. (Maybe you got a contact high from that guy smoking on the subway?) There’s a good explanation for why it looks the way it does — it was originally a supper club in Wisconsin, a cheerful tourist attraction serving Turkish food from the 1930s until about a decade ago. It’s since reopened in Bushwick (the Wisconsin of Brooklyn?) with over-the-top design (tassels everywhere, paisley everything) and a menu to match. The wraparound bar, guarded by taxidermy peacocks, is the center of the action, and the best place to order the relish tray, cheese curds with hot honey, lamb meatballs and buttery pilaf.
Hot noodle in the city
When I think of eating at the bar, I think of noodles. Udon noodles, to be more specific, and the ones at the Raku location in SoHo, to put the finest point on it. The noodles are epically chewy and springy, and there’s a long list of ways to eat them, both hot and cold. Even at the height of summer, you won’t regret the niku udon with beef short ribs, tripe and chile oil, or the cloudy tantan udon with a spicy miso broth, pork and a poached egg. After all, that’s what air conditioning is for.
