This ain't no Mudd Club or CBGB. Boulud classes up the Bowery with a tavern/brasserie.
Narrow bistro accommodates two dozen plus two and not a soul more.
Drinking without gimmickry, which on some nights can be a real godsend.
Wine and North African small plates for low-key EV crowd.
EV Ski-Ball bar pleases the kiddies (and the nostagic).
What is vintage good for if not a bit of nostalgia.
Sequestered upstairs joint with rules against unruliness. Precious, but the ladies love it.
Neighborhood veggie powerhouse is the anti-Mickey D's.
Pete Wentz's emo boy clubhouse. Don't trip over Ashlee Simpson hugging the porcelain god.
Neighborhood coffee shop by day, labyrinthine basement club by night.
Savory, quick, and feisty Italian delivers knockout punch to your garlic gland.
Watering trough for studied punks and indie-viduals. Bring your A Pac-Man game.
Manure-free urban farm sates virtuous, albeit rare, healthy food cravings.
How do you rise above the 6th Street curry trap? Lamb potpie! Un-screaming décor helps, too.
Michael Bao Hyunh strikes while the Banh mi iron is hot with another Saigon sub shop.
Euro-level sophistication fostering a chill scene.
Happy Loisaida Latin dance spot. Sport your guayabera and bring a hankie. It's caliente in here.
Kitschy theme bar serving up mani/drink combos under a row of hair dryers.
Tiny like your first apartment, but lacking that roomie/schizo you found on craigslist.
Eclectic Euro grub meets retro upscale diner that makes friendly with tight wallets.
East Village finally gets legit burger joint in former Bouche Bar.
The quintessential E.V. dive: small, cheap, juke, pool. If you love yourself, you'll skip the bathroom.
Undercover basement lounge for pretty professionals taking it down a notch for the night.
More vital than air for sexy hipsters.
Modern Korean behind stone façade of circa-1860 tenement.
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