An unchanged 1940s lounge known for its masterpiece Martinis and whimsical murals painted by the author of “Madeline,” Ludwig Bemelmans.

This is my local spot and one of my bad habits. The bartenders make sure I don't do anything to embarrassing and its full of regulars. Has dangerously replaced my living room. It's one of the only real dive bars on Smith street. Layers of funkiness help keep away the frat boys and bachelorette parties. Never closes before 4am so all the other neighborhood bartenders, cooks, and waiters stop by after work. Needless to say that only the best business decisions get made here!

The best place in the world to see a concert or a basketball game.

I have old friends in San Francisco who grudgingly tell me that the High Line is everything that's wrong with New York. Well, too bad. To me, it embodies a culture that's constantly reinventing itself: a defunct elevated railway that was becoming a burden to the city ("we used to climb up there to throw garbage bags full of rotting Korean food at the Hasids!", noted a successful photographer's assistant) becoming a startling example of urban greening for the public good. The expert landscaping makes it feel like walking on a Montauk beach - but a stone's throw from some of New York's most progressive galleries and hotels.

When I first got here my peers at work made me a list of places in our neighborhood. This restaurant was one of them and it's now one of my favorite local spots. This Italian restaurant has never disappointed me so far.