Share your city and win!

Walking into this Flatiron spot feels as if you’ve just stumbled upon the best stall at the flea market. Worn-wood shelves support stack upon stack of assorted rainbow-colored dishes ($1–$17), mismatched vintage china ($5–$23), toile teapots ($15–$39) and other kitschy kitchenwares. The amazingly cheap price tags make it worth battling the often-pressing crowds to stock up on assorted flatware ($1–$6 each) and glassware, including oversize stemless martini glasses ($6), elegant champagne flutes ($8) and Italian-style painted wineglasses ($5). If you’re in need of a serious discount, plunder the sale section in the back for never-before-used castoffs from restaurant and hotel suppliers. But there are plenty of affordable, freshly minted kitchen goods too. Local-specific buys include platters printed with the Brooklyn skyline ($17–$25) and Floor Plan dinnerware (from $8 for a five-square-inch “studio” to $33 for a 12-by-16-inch “penthouse”).

Established in 1862, this is New York’s oldest operating gay bar. You can feel a rich sense of history and community here: The walls are lined with historical materials, and the venue has been used as the backdrop for films such as Can You Ever Forgive Me? Thanks to a resurgence in popularity in recent years, the crowd has an intergenerational mix; longtime patrons sip their drafts at the long wooden bar as younger groups tend to gather at tables in the back and feed the well-stocked jukebox (as they chomp down on grilled cheeses and other cheap eats from the in-house grill). The hip and jam-packed party Mattachine—run by John Cameron Mitchell, Amber Martin and Angela Di Carlo, and named in honor of the Mattachine Society, which held a 1966 "sip-in" protest at the bar—happens once a month on Thursdays. 

This is a longtime dive bar with a leopard-print pool table and cheap drinks that's always there when we need it, more or less exactly as we left it. Almost everybody with an active drinking life has a story set in 169. The vibe: Shabby-chic, secondhand-store eclectic with lots of neon and xmas lights. Almost every different type of person comes here for nearly every conceivable reason. It can be a a sh*tshow on weekends. The food: Drunchies: Empanadas, dumplings, and popcorn.  The drink: Beers of varying persuasions, liquor, a few wines. The bartenders can and will definitely make you a cocktail if you want, but not when they’re busy… unless you tip real well. Happy Hour Deals and Details: Daily 2-7pm: $2 off liquor drinks (except well shots), $1 off any beer, and a tidy beer/shot combo: add a $2 well shot with the purchase of any beer.

Stepping into Film Forum feels like stepping back in time to a different version of New York. That’s appropriate since it’s been in operation since 1970. The vibe is cozy—not in the real estate sense that actually means "claustrophobic," but in the sense that you’ll feel right at home and want to stay for a while. In many ways, Film Forum is the anti-mega-cineplex: a unique NY institution that’s earned a spot on this list.

Tribeca's Muku has already achieved quite a milestone, and it hasn't even hit the six-month mark. In fact, two months after it opened, the tasting counter received a star from the Michelin Guide, the fastest awardee in NYC on record. And it is all due to chef Manabu Asanuma's personal approach to kaiseki cuisine.   The vibe: Tucked next to sister restaurants L’Abeille and L’Abeille a Côte, Muku operates in the former Sushi Ichimura space. If you used to frequent the sushi counter, you may recognize that little has changed, minus the addition of another gorgeous golden mural—this one dating back to the 17th century. It's a beautiful, serene scene, framed by tsuchikabe walls and a handsome, 10-seat counter. The vibe at the seemingly formal restaurant is convivial: I quickly made nice with repeat visitors who were more than giddy to rattle off favorite dishes from their last meal.  The food: Over 10 courses, Asanuma takes diners through kaiseki and its five signifying elements: raw, grilled, simmered, steamed and fried. Dishes rotate quite frequently, but a recent visit yielded raw preparations of mackerel and snapper, grilled rockfish in a sticky-sweet white miso marinade and king crab, whose claws and legs Asanuma personally seared over an intimidating grill at the counter. We can only hope that Asanuma's soba noodles have some permanence, as the toothy, woodsy noodles are made with grains sourced from his family's farm in Yamagata Prefecture. The add-ons were just as good,...

This boxing-themed dive bar is certainly more colorful than its Times Square brethren. Adam Glenn enshrines his father's legacy, late owner and renowned boxing coach Jimmy Glenn, as mirrors are still plastered with photos of his right-hook big shots. These days, it’s magazine honchos, not KO kings, who slum it here. The joint ain’t fancy—the full bar is standard, four beers are on tap and there’s soul on the juke—but it covers the basics just fine. The vibe: Divey, with boxing ephemera all over. This is old-school New York–it evokes classic 70s films. The drink: Simple, straightforward. Beers, glasses of wine, mixed drinks from the well. If you want something more involved, the bartender can handle it but this isn’t really the place for that.  Time Out tip: As your coach, we’d advise you to stay nimble; rather than throw haymakers all night, stick and move with a beer and shot, vodka-soda, cider on ice–one-two combos that may not be fancy but get the job done.

Walking through the door of the Greenpoint restaurant, it’s clear you’re in for a show. Take your seat at the slick marble countertop, facing the grand blue curtain that conceals the performers (in this case, chefs) murmuring just behind it. Then, it’s showtime: the music stops, the lights dim and the curtain pulls back to reveal a line of chefs in crisp white coats, standing shoulder-to-shoulder alongside executive chef and owner Yuu Shimano. The chef teases the Japanese-French cuisine you’re about to experience, claps his hands, and everyone takes their places.  It’s live theater of sorts, with chefs scoring proteins and presenting showstopping dishes: king crab under a wreath of impossibly thin vegetables and dill flowers and a slice of pillowy broiche topped with a mound of caviar. The pièce de résistance comes to the stage early: the famous dry-aged duck pie. Served since the restaurant’s inception, the star dish is layered with ground duck leg and foie gras and enveloped in pastry dough. It’s presented to the audience, still uncooked, only to make its grand return at the finale, burnished and golden brown. It’s savory and rich, served with a ladle of peppery cognac sauce. Course foreshadowing happens throughout the meal, but the results don’t always land. Take the live lobster brought to the counter, bound in anticipation of tomorrow's service, we were assured. It’s introduced as part of the salad course while Shimano dismantles another crustacean, whipping its head...

Boasting 18 miles of books, the Strand has a mammoth collection of more than 2 million discount volumes, and the store is made all the more daunting by its chaotic, towering shelves and surly staff. Reviewer discounts are in the basement, while rare volumes lurk upstairs. If you spend enough time here you can find just about anything, from that out-of-print Victorian book on manners to the kitschiest of sci-fi pulp.

Going to BAM always feels like a special event—and with good reason. It’s a local institution and features some of the best film programming in the city. If you’re looking to get your face blown off by a cutting-edge sound system, look elsewhere. But if you want to see the latest festival darling or experience an old-school classic on the big screen for the first time, look no further.