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Beyond the iconic, show-stopping displays—the grizzly bear in the Hall of North American Mammals, the 94-feet long blue whale, the prehistoric Barosaurus skeleton rearing up as if to scare the adjacent Allosaurus skeleton—is an expertly curated, 150-year-old museum that fills visitors of all ages with a curiosity about the universe. Whether you’re interested in the world below our feet or the cultures of faraway lands or the stars light-years beyond our reach, your visit is bound to teach you a few things you never knew. With four floors filled to the brim with artifacts, you could spend a whole day just looking at the taxidermied animals that hail from North America, Asia, Africa, rain forests and the ocean. Or, conversely, spend a day like an anthropologist and study indigenous Americans, Asian cultures, African peoples, Pacific tribes, and, before these rich cultures existed, the evolutionary origins of humans and our near (now extinct) cousins, like neanderthals. Also don't miss the new wing called the Gilder Center, which houses a butterfly vivarium, an insectarium and a 360-degree immersive experience, in an architectural masterpiece.

Following up on the widely successful Cote, Simon Kim set out to create “a modern and family-friendly cathedral for fried chicken.” And so, he did. For $38 dollars you can receive a bucket of gluten-free Korean fried chicken and be satisfied. Or you can tack on an order of caviar nuggets. Or choose from a selection of 600 Champagnes. No matter what you choose, best believe you'll be grooving to the tunes of Nas and Chaka Khan while you decide.

Rockefeller Center is a pretty stressful place overall. There’s just a ton going on all the time. Too much. But the team behind Frenchette has transplanted a fun downtown brasserie’s heart into Midtown’s hulking suit of Art Deco armor. Upon awakening, their creation (known as Le Rock) has arrived, serving up beautiful bread, gorgeous pâté, and excellent cocktails, ensuring you’re comfortable and having a nice time. It’s an astounding feat that feels impossible, but undeniable: Le Rock makes being in Rockefeller Center worth your while.  High ceilings, Art Deco bones, terrazzo underfoot, a bronzed glow that lights up faces. It’s a beautiful room, top to bottom. Tables do fit snug in the dining room, which means that the noise level can reach a din and all of a sudden you start getting visions of why Rockefeller Center was to be avoided. But if you’re blessed with a little space and a reasonably calm crowd, none of that matters. And lunch tends to present a more placid service, so you may want to plan on a visit midday. Cocktailing here is delightful: precise, clean, interesting, without reading convoluted. The Martinis Maison are the headline, and they do really feel right in this room: Super Sec (overproof gin, extra-dry and white vermouth) is crystalline clarity—mature and bracing. The Au Poivre folds in spicy green peppercorn notes that’ll wake up your senses. Classic builds are available if you don’t want to venture too far. And there are a few other fun concoctions...

With a name that translates to “The Head of Gold," La Tête d’Or by Daniel Boulud is truly something to discover. The deep-red entryway with soft glowing amber fixtures leads you to the bar, a sultry corner of bronze mirrors and velvet armchairs. It all pours into the soaring, high-ceiling dining room with elements of dark woods, leather and plush banquettes and elegant bouquets that sit above them. The 120-seat dining room is framed by the open kitchen with its opulent hood that calls to the Art Deco era.  Seafaring adventurers can dip their toes in Scallop Crudo and Yellowfin Tuna Tartare, an import from his eponymous restaurant, Daniel. But naturally, the meat is the draw. Eleven steaks grace the menu, from Bavette to a 45-day aged Rib-Eye to Prime Rib Trolley that wheels right up to the table. Playing to Boulud’s love of American ice cream shops, desserts include swirls of soft-serve served with a plate of goodies—sprinkles, coca nibs and cranberry meringue kisses—to make your own sweet treat.

I admit—I never had the chance to experience John McDonald's MercBar, which was described as a "proper bar" in SoHo and ran for an impressive 21 years. Since its closure, McDonald had stayed plenty busy with his other ventures at Mercer Street Hospitality, including Lure Fishbar, Cha Cha Tang and Bowery Meat Company. But it seems his itch to get back behind the bar was too strong as McDonald opened Bar Mercer in January 2025.  While the name plays on the long-gone bar, the vibe is entirely new, with McDonald describing it as "an inversion of its spiritual predecessor both in name and concept." While the intention is to look lived in, the sleek red shine of the walls is a dead giveaway, made even more elevated with black and white photography on the walls and cloth-backed chairs that display watercolors of flowers and peacocks. But luckily, chef Preston Clark (of Lure Fishbar) menu of comforts help to usher that feeling of familarity forward. Here, chef Clark cooks the food he likes to eat, and in turn, we like it too, with branzino bar sliders and beer-battered fish alongside a meaty Berkshire Pork Chop. Brunch follows through with more hits, like Housemade Pigs in a Blanket with a horseradish mustard that will make your head sing and Hangover Pasta with a silky sauce and a yolky egg that is guaranteed to cure. The chalkboard near the front displays weekly specials, so try to catch the bone-in, ribe-eye Cowgirl Steak or the off-menu burger if you can. 

We really like eating around the city, and we're guessing you do, too. So lucky for all of us, we've packed all our favorite restaurants under one roof at the Time Out Market New York. The DUMBO location in Empire Stores has fried chicken from Jacob’s Pickles, pizza from Fornino, delicious bagels from Ess-a-bagel and more amazing eateries—all cherry-picked by us. Chow down over two floors with views of the East River, Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan skyline.  RECOMMENDED: The best things do in NYC

If you thought getting a table at Per Se was tough, try getting into Rao’s. On second thought, don’t. Rao’s (pronounced “RAY-ohs”) is really a private club without the dues. To eat here, you’ll need a personal invite from one of the heavy hitters who “owns” a table. These CEOs, actors, politicians, news personalities and neighborhood old-timers established a long-standing arrangement with the late, legendary owner Frankie “No” Pellegrino, and that's what ensures a seat at one of the ten tables at the Italian-American icon. In fact, reading this review is probably the closest you’ll get to Rao’s.

Standing at the foot of the High Line along Gansevoort Street in the Meatpacking District, the 63,000 square facility features both indoor and outdoor exhibition space. True to its founder Gertrude Vanderbilt's wishes, the Whitney is dedicated to presenting the work of American artists. Its collection holds about 15,000 pieces by nearly 2,000 artists, including Alexander Calder, Willem de Kooning, Edward Hopper (the Whitney is the largest repository of Hopper's artwork in the world), Jasper Johns, Louise Nevelson, Georgia O’Keeffe and Claes Oldenburg. Still, the museum’s reputation rests mainly on its temporary shows, particularly the Whitney Biennial. Held in even-numbered years, the Biennial remains the most prestigious (and controversial) assessment of contemporary art in America. Three outdoor sculpture spaces provide views of the Hudson and the surrounding neighborhood. This is a goldmine for slightly lesser-known but fantastic exhibitions. 

This is the original outpost of what’s grown to include five locations in Manhattan. Its cute Chelsea Market environs are as pleasant as any for a self-guided tasting through a smattering of taco and quesadilla varieties. 

If you and your significant other enjoy knocking boots with a writhing mass of sexy strangers, look no further than this club in Queens. And if you want more information on boots, here’s a fun fact: The actual first name of the Roman emperor commonly called Caligula was Gaius—caligula means "little boots" in Latin, and Caligula picked up this nickname (which he hated) when he accompanied his dad, Germanicus, during his military campaigns in Germany.